Who's Coming With Me?

     When I was in my first years of teaching, a parent came into my classroom for a parent/teacher conference and requested what seemed to me to be the impossible. The student was doing poorly in my class despite the fact that he was rather intelligent. Before I could talk about her son's academic performance in that conference, the mom looked me in the eye and said, "I need you to help me get my son off drugs." Sadly, I've been teaching too long to remember what I said to that parent, and I don't know if her son ever stopped using drugs. I do remember stammering through a response, I remember the parent crying, and I remember questioning that night if I had gotten into the right profession. I was practically a kid myself--twenty-two years old teaching seventeen year-olds. But even now with twenty-two more years of experience, I know I would struggle with that conversation even though I probably have more knowledge and expertise on how to answer it. For twenty-two years, I feel I have worked to make things that are seemingly impossible, possible.

I have been a book dealer--selling books every year to kids who have no desire to read them.

I have been a counselor--trying to dry the tears of a troubled teen because of a broken relationship or because of their latest math grade, or sadly, because of the tragic death of a classmate.

I've dealt with plagiarism, cheating, peer pressure, and bullying--sometimes all in the same class block.

Sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night with a lesson plan idea or the solution to one of my student's problems. I find myself constantly thinking about my students and my classroom.

I have toed the line, hoping that a parent won't question my choice of literary text or the grade their child earned.

Because of the courses I teach, I have had deep conversations about racism and class and politics and the way we think. Not everyone even has these conversations as adults. I've had them with seventeen and eighteen year-olds.

I have learned the art of a selfie (sort of), chartered through the preference of using an emoji over words, explored TikTok, and listened to rap music because my students value those things.

I have written hundreds of letters of recommendation, trying to find the perfect words to describe my students to the colleges of their choice.

After twenty-two years, I have corrected more grammar errors than I'd like. I have graded thousands of essays; I have read enough literary analysis--both good and bad--to satisfy me for a lifetime. Yet, I'm still standing. (Elton John would be proud).

I have eaten lunch with students in my classroom because they don't want to deal with the social pressures of the cafeteria.

I give a presentation every single day, not worrying about public opinion. I performed a TikTok dance on stage at school and definitely worried about public opinion.

I've witnessed moments where I thought I'd never regain control of the room, wondering if I really did have control in the first place.

I've watched my students become teachers themselves.

I've smiled with tears in my eyes, as my students marched proudly across the stage at graduation, receiving that piece of paper that signifies thirteen years of learning and so much more.

I've seen students who hated to read find the right book; I've witnessed the weakest of writers finally find their words.

I've returned emails and texts over Remind late at night when I knew my students desperately needed an answer right at that moment.

I've opened my classroom early in the morning and stayed late into the afternoon because that one kid needed to talk or required more help.

I've been a cheerleader and a disciplinarian all in the same breath.

I've settled disputes, judged mock trials, helped with promposals, and picked out prom dresses. I've given advice on where my students should go for dinner before prom--in case you're wondering, never a chain.

I wear my emotions on my sleeve; I've cried in front of my students.

And I've laughed--Every. Single. Day.

     Anyone who is a teacher has had these experiences. They might not look the same as mine, but nevertheless, they've experienced the feelings these moments create. That's the beauty of teaching. I know there's been a lot of debate over how teachers feel about returning to school as of late. I'm not trying to advocate my opinion here (and believe me, I do have one); instead, I write this to remind others of just how powerful and beautiful this profession can be. I write this to remind people that this year is going to be hard on teachers, but let's face it; teaching is not easy. I write this to celebrate my profession because to me it is far more than a profession. It is a way of living. So no matter where I'll be teaching this school year--virtually or face to face--I'm still that teacher who is forever inspired by her students and who will work tirelessly to help them grow and learn. I'm still that teacher who loves what she does. I'm still that teacher who wants to make the impossible possible. That's what I vow to do this year--whether it be getting classes through virtual scenarios that just don't feel right or whether it be face to face with my students, hoping Covid-19 doesn't take over my classroom that really doesn't look and feel like my classroom, I know we can do this. Teachers, we can make the impossible possible.

     One of my favorite movie scenes is from the film Jerry Maguire. In the scene Jerry (Tom Cruise) is fired from his high paying job after writing a mission statement on the unethical nature of his profession as a sports agent. He holds a Ziploc bag with a goldfish in the air, yelling, "Who's coming with me? Who's coming with me?" to the entire office of onlookers.

I would imagine that moment was vulnerable for him, as this one feels for me right now. If you are a teacher, let's remember why we got into this profession in the first place. Let's remember the young child or teenager we once were. We needed our teachers to mold and change and help us grow. Likewise, our students need us. And more than ever, we need each other. This year, we can be the change. We can make the impossible possible.

Who's coming with me?

Using My Free Time For Good

     "What are you doing this summer?" I've been asked this question on more than one occasion recently, and I'm not sure how to answer it. To be honest, my summer has felt kind of purposeless. Vacations are different. I haven't spent my weeks at King's Dominion or the pool. I haven't made countless trips to Orkney Springs, where my husband typically directs a sports camp and where my kids rotate attending as campers. I have no swim meets to set up and manage during thunderstorms. My tutoring business is nonexistent because the SAT is suddenly not an important component of college admissions. I'm even finished my professional development. So, I've been trying to find an answer to that question, but more often than not, the search has been futile.

     It wasn't until I received a text from a student I taught several years ago that I figured out my response.  He had been asking me how I was, and I told him for the first time in a long time, I have a lot of free time on my hands and how weird it was. I didn't know what to do with the hours of my day. His response caught me off guard:

"Try to use your free time for good."

     He may not have realized this, but that text changed my summer. Things in my life often come full circle, and this was yet another one of those moments. I was receiving unsolicited advice from one of my former students--someone who years ago sat in my classroom where I gave him advice. And while I was not asking for advice at the time we were texting, he must have known I needed some. Somehow, I now had an answer to "What are you doing this summer?"

     While most people did a lot of reading and cooking and bread baking and Netflix binge watching during the beginning months of COVID-19, I worked harder than I usually do. I was worried about losing connections that I had worked so hard all year to build with my students, so I worked to hold onto those. I was nervous about my students not being ready for their IB assessments, so I worked hard to make them feel prepared. I was concerned that my dual enrollment seniors would be robbed of their college level writing instruction, so I made videos so that they understood the content and  expectations. I learned how to teach and exist in a virtual world--from conducting IB assessments to having a virtual graduation party for my seniors. I worked tirelessly to lift others up and remain positive. I helped  plan a graduation that was anything but traditional. So now that school is out, I look around and I have nothing on my agenda. The days seem so long. For the first time in my life, I have time, and I'm just not sure what to do with it. It's a change that has challenged me more than I thought it would.

     Yet, when I think about it, change has always been a common denominator in my life. I came into teaching on the cusp of change. SOL tests were in their inaugural phase during my first year in the classroom.  Most teaching was done with students sitting in rows. Grammar was taught out of a textbook with boring sentences and repetitive exercises. During my second year of teaching, my principal asked me to attend a conference with him on collaborative learning. That conference revolutionized my classroom; I started to have students work in groups--a practice that most teachers did not embrace at the time. Students sat at tables, actually looking at and talking to each other. I brought in song lyrics to teach grammar (much to the chagrin of some of my colleagues who thought I should be teaching traditionally out of the grammar textbook). As a teacher, I guess I've always learned the importance of adapting to change.

     I remember stepping onto the track for practice one afternoon when my athletes told me about what happened at Columbine High School. Those were the days long before social media, but one of the seniors had gone home before practice and found out about the school shooting. That day changed teaching in schools forever. So began the days of intruder drills and me pondering what I would do if a shooter tragically entered my classroom. Things I had never thought of as a teacher before all of the sudden were paramount. As a teacher, I had to learn adapt to change.

     I've watched the state of education change drastically over the past twenty-two years in the classroom. I've seen technology become a large part of education, as even the various platforms that I've had to use (Blackboard, Google Classroom, Schoology) have changed over the years. I've seen phones take over the classroom and have observed how social media has transformed the way students interact with each other. I've witnessed the change from not having every piece of information at my fingertips to a classroom where I'm not the key source of information in the room.  I actually remember a world of teaching when "google" was not a verb, when "Google" didn't exist at all. So, I keep reminding myself that as a teacher, I've had to learn to adapt to change.

     Recently, I feel like my social media feeds are inundated with two things--racial injustice in our country and why we should or should not return to school. Everyone seems to have an opinion. Sometimes the two subjects collide with each other, competing for my attention. Sometimes posts that are seemingly kind or about something entirely unrelated are suddenly hijacked to discuss someone's personal agenda whether that be about tearing down monuments or wearing a mask or heading back to school. And I guess I want to respond with this: Somehow in looking at everyone else's agendas, I found my own--to adapt to the changes our world is requiring of us by using my free time for good.

So what will I do with my free time this summer?

1. Embrace differences. I can't control what this pandemic has in store for us. I think the hardest thing through all of this is that we have no control. There are many moments--especially recently--where I have felt lost and purposeless.  I'm not sure what school will look like next year. Whether we are face to face or virtual, there is one thing I am sure of: I still will continue to work hard. I still will continue to make connections with my students. I still will learn to adapt to change. So, for now, I will start to think about some of the choices I will make in teaching my class under different circumstances. I have a pile of books to read because I know since our learning will probably be different, I need to choose just the right texts. So, I will use my free time to figure this out instead of worrying about the change to come or stress about the unknown. 

2. Continue conversations. I recognize as a white American, I still have a lot of learning to do when it comes to understanding racial issues. So, I will continue to educate myself. This week, I hosted my first antiracist book club which brought together many people from many different walks of my life as well as people I had never met before. The conversation was enriching and powerful. We need more of that. My free time will be spent having these important conversations in future book clubs as a means to do good.

3. Minimize how things impact me. It's so easy in life to sit and complain or criticize. It's so easy to think about how you personally are affected by what's going on in the world. My goal this month is to not be so insular in thinking about how this affects me; maybe step into others' shoes or see the positive in the world around me. The world is not easy right now. I want to hug others. I want our racial divide to dissipate. I want to see my parents. I want to go into a public place and not have to wear my mask. It's so easy to think about how life's current situation only benefits me, but I need to think  beyond that. Until then, I will adapt; I will wear the mask; I will forego the hugs; I will call my parents; I will listen to others.

      So while it might seem as if nothing is on my agenda because my online calendar app has not really been used much recently to schedule swim meets and vacations and lunches and professional development workshops, know I am doing a lot of work this summer. I am thinking about my relationships with others. I am pondering how we can exist in a world with less criticism and more compliments. I am figuring out how I can be the best teacher I possibly can for my future students who also are being forced to adapt to change. Know I'm figuring out how to continue to grow as the world changes, learning to teach in whatever way is necessary next school year. Those things might not be able to be scheduled on a calendar, but at least I now know what I'm doing this summer when asked the question. The answer is more clear than it ever has been: I'm using my free time for good.