Thanksgiving Post 2 - Students and Gratitute

In case you haven't noticed, anxiety is on the rise.  The data shows that the upward swing for adolescents began after cell phones became ubiquitous.  While they had access to social media before that, it was mostly something they did on their home computer, and that was back when wise parents kept the computer in a public space in their home.  Carrying their computers in their pockets and the invention of infinite scroll meant constant access throughout the day.  The pandemic increased the slope of the upward trend, to be sure, but it did not start it.  

We know that the more time a person spends on social media, the more prone they are to anxiety.  That's just numbers.  But numbers only show you a trend; they don't explain why a trend is true.  Cards on the table; I am not a psychologist.  But in my 25 year teaching career, I've seen enough to know a few things.  One of those things is that envy steals joy in everyone, but especially in adolescents.  Kids who grew up in the Great Depression were less prone to anxiety than modern students who live in relevant affluence.  Why?  I've heard multiple elderly people say, "We were poor, but we didn't know we were poor because everyone was."  They weren't comparing their lives to those above them.  But social media means we see the peak moments in the lives of others, from our friends to celebrities to random strangers.  We see the expensive things people buy and how often they get their nails done; we see their vacation photos and their accomplishments.  And, if they have something we don't have, especially if it is something we might be prone to want, we develop envy.  Adults have minimal ability to place this in perspective and remember that we are comparing our low points to their high points: adolescents have even less ability to do that.

How do we help?  Do we take the action Australia has just taken, banning social media for kids under 16?  While I imagine it would help, I don't see that happening in America.  And, I don't know how they are going to enforce it anyway as it is not hard to lie about your age online.  (I am, however, for parents delaying their child having an internet enabled cell phone for as long as possible.)  

Let's take one step back and remember that social media is the tool, but that tool is delivering the problem rather than being the problem.  

The problem is envy.  There's a reason envy is listed among the seven deadly sins and that coveting anything is forbidden by the Ten Commandments.  The problem with using social media to compare ourselves to others is that it makes us want what other people have rather than being grateful for what we already have.  And, it is never enough.  Even the wealthiest person you know likely still wants to obtain more wealth because they see what someone else has.  

As always, CS Lewis says it well:  "Envy is insatiable. The more you concede to it, the more it will demand."

So, if envy is the problem, what is the solution?  What is the opposite of envy?

It is gratitude.  Teaching our kids to be grateful will do more to help with everyday anxiety than anything else.  (Note:  I am using the phrase "everyday anxiety" because I am not talking about diagnosable anxiety disorders. Those are complex medical issues with layered solutions, and while gratitude will certainly benefit them, I am not trivializing those disorders.)

We should work thankfulness into our lived curriculum.  They should hear us expressing gratitude for what we have and for the people in our lives.  We should thank them for things, and we should be specific about it.  We should remind them of the things they have to be thankful for.  We should ask them what they feel positive about, especially because our minds don't have a natural tendency to dwell on positives.  

This isn't optimism or "toxic positivity." Those tend to ignore real problems that need real solutions.  This is the recognition that, even when there are negatives, there are also blessings.  Philippians 4:8, which reminds us to dwell on things that are "right, pure, lovely, and admirable" was written by a man who regularly reprimanded the churches to whom he was writing; so he wasn't telling them to ignore important issues but to spend time thinking about the good and thanking God for them.  

Sometimes, it is an issue of perspective.  During the Occupy Wall Street protests, it was common to see signs that read, "We are the 99%."  They wanted to draw attention to the fact that most Americans aren't CEOs of major companies that make millions of dollars.  While true, it only applies inside this country.  If those people camping out in city parks had taken a broader view, a world wide view, they would have recognized that they were, in fact, the 1% globally.  Our students see celebrity Instagram accounts and TikTok influencers and believe that is a standard way of living.  We have to help them take the wider view and recognize that others would envy what they have.

Will this take care of all the anxiety issues in our culture.  No.  Will it dramatically help.  Absolutely.

Thanksgiving Post - Learning and the Brain

It was 2018 when a humble flyer appeared in my school mailbox.  I was prepared to throw it away as I do with all uninvited mail, but I am so glad the tiny photo of a keynote speaker caught my attention because that little flyer has changed my life.  

Every Thanksgiving, I write a post of gratitude for someone or some group that has influenced my educational life.  I've written about teachers, administrators, group fitness instructors, and even the school supply cabinet (find those links at the bottom of this post).  This year, I'd like to express my gratitude for an organization that first changed my classroom, the influenced my colleagues, and finally changed my career.  This year, I am incredibly thankful for Learning and the Brain.

 

When I got that flyer in 2018, I knew this was something special.  From the fact that every presenter was a heavyweight to the extra event that you could attend at the MIT brain scan lab as part of the conference, I was amazed.  When I asked my administration to send me, I was in full-scale begging mode.  And since I usually didn't want to go anywhere for PD, they knew this conference must be special too.  That year, I learned from a variety of researchers and psychologists and educators about creativity, talent, innovation, and the role of neurodivergence.  I ate it up and presented once or twice in GRACE faculty meetings about what I had learned.  

That year was my gateway drug, but my addiction to the science of learning started in 2019.  I can't pinpoint exactly why that year was special. Perhaps the theme or the combination of keynote speakers or the flow of the session choices I made played a role, 

. . . but I suspect it was because that year I first met John Almarode.  

If you don't know John Almarode's work, please stop reading right now and put his name into YouTube.  Come back after you get a sense of this delightful, passionate, and energetic man.  Just reading his books won't do it; you have to see him in his bow tie, watch him bounce around a stage, and hear his lovely Virginia drawl to get the full picture.  I quickly developed a non-romantic crush and then found him on Twitter and badgered him into becoming my friend.  Every year at the conference, he knows what things I will find amusing and turns to make eye contact with me at just the right moments.  He is a treasure and someone I reach out to for advice and prayer and encouragement.  I could not be more grateful for his kindness.

Speaking of Twitter, Learning and the Brain has a presence there.  When a colleague asked me a question I didn't know the answer to, I sometimes asked @learningandtheb if "it" knew of any research on the subject.  Once, I asked something complicated on behalf of a former student and got the reply, "That's too long of answer for Twitter. I'll send you my email address."  This is when I got connected with Andrew Watson, who moderates their social media accounts, among the dozens of other things he does.  (If you don't know Andrew's work, please allow me to highly recommend all three of his books, but especially the one called Learning Begins.  It did more to change my lesson planning than any book I've read in the last decade because understanding how working memory overload impacts learning made me look at my practice very differently.)  When he replied to my email, he didn't just send me an answer; he sent links to all of the relevant research on my question.  He offered more help whenever I needed it.  We finally met, masked and distanced though we were, at the 2021 conference.  Since then, he has been a source of wisdom and encouragement and has walked with me through the process of applying to and presenting at conferences.  He even spent an hour on a zoom call with one of my 1st grade teacher friends when I couldn't help her with a big problem she was having post pandemic.  I could not be more grateful for his generosity.

David Daniel will likely not see this post as he spends little time online and none on social media.  Until last year's conference, I had only known him from a distance, seeing him introduce people and giving a keynote address as well as a couple of emails after I sent him a thank you note.  When I went to introduce myself to him last year, he stopped me and said, "I know who you are."  We had a nice chat.  After an email thread with John and Andrew, David said he wanted to call and give me some advice.  (This was, by the way, the first phone call I ever got on a cell phone, so he'll always be special for that.)  We talked about the direction of my changing career, and he gave me excellent things to think about.  When I saw him a few months ago, he said, "John will give you the practical details.  I was speaking to your soul."  That's how he talks, and that's how he is.  David is fun and quirky, but he takes the work of education very seriously.  Give him a few minutes, and he will cut right to the heart of a conversation and change the way you view it.  I could not be more grateful for his wisdom.

Kelly Williams chooses the speakers for Learning and the Brain conferences.  I have met him only once, but when I decided I wanted to apply, this was the man I contacted.  We had a lovely phone conversation, in which he asked me to send him a proposal for a session.  When he accepted it, I cried and then texted my friends and posted about it on Facebook. Everyone knew this was "the big one" and celebrated with me.  I could not be more grateful for his willingness to take a chance on me.

Thank you to everyone in the world of Learning and the Brain, especially the unnamed person who mailed the flyer to my school mailbox.  You have changed me as a teacher, as a learner, and as a person.  

------------------------------------------------

Links to prior Thanksgiving posts are listed below because I'm still thankful for those people too.

My many influences 

Mr. Sandberg

Mr. Watkins

Mr. Freeman

School Supply Cabinet

GRACE parents

GRACE administrators

The Alexander Family YMCA

My YMCA Instructors

My Colleagues

Faithful Leadership - A Tribute to Julie Bradshaw

While this post isn't about education (well, actually, it is - just a different kind of education), I wanted to publically thank a woman who has been instrumental in my life this past year because she is moving to a different job next week.  Julie is the Group Fitness Director at the Alexander YMCA, but next week she will be at a different branch.  I won't see her often, so I want to take a moment to thank her for her faithfulness, friendship, and leadership.

The first time I met Julie was in June.  I had been at the Y for a couple of months and I had heard her name from instructors and other members. In June, she came up with an idea for a cycle challenge called the Tour de Alexandre.  Those of us who registered for it recorded our classes and mileage on a large chart with the goal of collectively reaching the same mileage as the Tour de France.  She sent a weekly email, updating us on our progress and including who the leaders were both in the number of classes and individual mileage.  The result was a really fun and motivating challenge.  The two men who were in the lead on miles teased each other and pushed hard against each other.  I knew I wouldn't be able to achieve a high number of miles, but I took more cycle classes in those few weeks than ever before and loved watching that chart fill up.  At the end of the challenge, I replied to one of Julie's emails to thank her for coming up with the idea and keeping us updated because it was super motivating to know that my progress was part of a collective goal (which we crushed, by the way - we ended up at double the mileage of those guys in France).

I didn't see Julie every time I came to work out, but she occasionally subbed for Matt's Group Power class.  In fact, I think the first time I saw her teach was when she and Matt taught Group Power Express together for the summer Group Fit Fest.  I realized then that she wasn't just a creative challenge designer.  She is an exceptional fitness educator.  She cares about the members of her class and is observant of how they are doing.  She is clear in her explanations and models skills well.  She tells Dad jokes both to motivate and to distract you from how hard what you are doing is.  Mostly, she is just super encouraging.  Whatever you are able to do is great, but she encourages you to do just a bit more.

Just as school was starting back, I wanted to tell my Y story to someone, and she seemed like the right person to share it with.  I sent her a very long email, telling her my story from the beginning and praising the educational techniques of many instructors.  She made the mistake of asking me about cognitive science, so she got a few more very long emails as a result.  Every time I see her, she asks lots of questions because she is great about learning everything she can about her members.

In September, Julie asked me if I would be willing to participate in fundraising for the annual campaign.  I was both honored to be asked and thrilled to have the opportunity to give back to the Y.  She kept me encouraged throughout the campaign, even when responses were slow.  When I first began feeling God's pull out of the classroom and towards the Y, she was the first person I talked to there.  I just wanted to feel out if it was a crazy idea, so I asked her if we could talk after a Group Power class one Saturday morning.  I'm sure she would have rather gone home after class, but she agreed to talk with me.  She was so helpful and encouraging and helped me explore the job posting website.  She set up introductions with important people so I could explore options, even introducing me to the president after class one morning.  When I decided to certify in cycle instruction, she was helpful and encouraging.  One of the final things Julie has done in her role at Alexander is to hire me as a substitute cycle instructor, and I couldn't be more grateful.  She gave great feedback on my demo class and asked great questions during our interview.   She has been walking me through every step of the process.  Mostly, she is providing me with an opportunity to be part of the Y's mission.  

In Drew Dyck's book Just Show Up, he discusses the value of faithfulness as both a character trait and a form of leadership.  He describes three questions you can ask yourself to identify faithfulness.

1.  Can people depend on me to do what I say I will do?

2.  Do I look for ways to help others?

3.  Am I a person who can be present even when I don't know what to say or do?

Julie exhibits all of these in her leadership at the Y.  She took the time to meet with me when she didn't have to and followed up on everything we talked about that day and at other times.  She took advantage of every opportunity to be there, not only for me, but for all of the instructors she is in charge of, and gave many members opportunities to be part of fundraising.  During more than one of our conversations about my future, I have begun to cry.  During each of those times, she has been patient to let me express whatever I needed to, comforted me with a hug, and given encouraging words when possible.  Her faithfulness has influenced more lives than she will ever know, and I am proud and grateful to call her my friend. 

Thanksgiving 2023 - Thankful for the Alexander YMCA

My annual Thanksgiving post is usually about teachers and schooling.  If you look at the posts from previous years, you will find odes to my childhood teachers, current administrators, and colleagues.  During the pandemic year, I even expressed gratitude for the supply closet at school.

This year's post is also about teachers, but they are not teachers in the academic sphere.  They are my fitness instructors at my local YMCA.  Last week, I compared their teaching techniques to those used by academic teachers because it is amazing how incredibly sound their teaching practices are (and I suspect they don't even know it because they are likely not reading books on cognitive science research).  This week, I just want to express my gratitude for them and for the entire staff of the Alexander YMCA by telling my story.

When I decided to give up the yearbook, people kept asking me what I was going to do with my time since I wouldn't be photographing every activity and then editing, uploading, and tagging pictures or spending time proofreading pages.  I thought about what I would have liked to have done with my afternoons all these years if they had been more flexible, and I realized that I wish I could have exercised more - well, at all.  I had an answer - "I'm going to join a gym."  Doing some research, I knew that Planet Fitness was the least expensive option, but when I started looking into it, I decided it did not have what I needed, accountability.  

I used to be disciplined about working out on my own at home, at least during the summer.  Regular readers, do you remember eight years ago when I walked 500 miles in the summer and then 500 more during the school year?  For whatever reason, in the last six years or so, all of that discipline evaporated.  I'd get about ten minutes in (or whenever it started to become difficult), and I would say, "Well, ten minutes is better than nothing" and just stop.  I still walked a lot in the summer, but during the pandemic, it became transportation rather than exercise, and it never went back to being an aerobic activity.  Going to a place with a lot of machinery wasn't going to fix that problem.  I needed group classes because I knew that I would not leave a class early in front of other people.  My friend, Meagan, said that she thought the YMCA would have what I needed.  I dropped by and took a tour, and she was exactly right.  (I don't think I've ever properly thanked Meagan for this suggestion.  Thank you, Meagan.)

By February, the month before I joined the YMCA, I was uncomfortable all of the time.  Although I don't weigh myself, I knew my pants didn't fit, and I was insistent on NOT buying new clothes.  (My Tuesday pants did their job because I would have had to write myself up for dress code for about a month if I had worn them.)  I was tired at the end of every day, so I came home to collapse, but that just made me more tired.  At school, if I dropped a pencil on the floor, I went to my desk to get a different pencil rather than bend over to pick it up.  By the time the yearbook was finished, so was I.  I was just sick of myself.

In March, I started taking classes at the Alexander Family YMCA on Hillsborough Street, and it could not have been a better decision.  I knew I was going to be pretty bad at everything for a while as I've never had much physical agility, strength, or coordination and, thus, no confidence about anything physical. The first thing Matt ever said to me was, "Don't take yourself too seriously," and it was the perfect perspective to have as I grew in this kind of learning because I could get the steps wrong, laugh at myself, and just keep going.  My original plan was to take as many kinds of classes as possible.  I thought I would do something different every day in March and then decide what to repeat.  That plan changed when I started falling in love with some of the instructors.  (See last week's post for more specifics.)  So, while I did try quite a few different types of classes, I fell into a pattern a lot more quickly than I expected because of these lovely people.  

Before joining, I was a little concerned that I might become one of those people who just donates money to the gym (you know, pays their dues but doesn't go).  That might have happened if I had joined just any gym, but after falling in love with these instructors and their classes, I found myself disappointed if I had some other commitment that prevented me from attending one of my YMCA classes.  There is such a spirit of love, encouragement, and joy at the Y that I don't think I would have found at "a gym."

Initially, I had only one goal - stay through every minute of a class; I could worry about things like speed and intensity after I was in the habit of not giving up in the middle of classes.  I chose positions as far from the door as possible, so I couldn't just slip out without having to take a "walk of shame."  While the instructors were pushing my body in some pretty taxing ways, there was only one time that I truly wanted to leave a class.  It was a Barre class (no fault of the instructor, but those moves are crazy to me). If there hadn't been people in there that I knew, I absolutely would have left.  When I came home that night and called my mom, I said, "Well, I'm pretty sure I hated that."  The next night, when I called her, I said, "I LOVE kickboxing!  Who knew?!?"  Finding what I loved (and didn't) was motivating and joyful.  I don't mind that I don't like some things because I love other things so much.

After the first two months, I decided it was time to start setting some real goals.  After asking a couple of spin instructors for advice, I stood up on a bike for the first time in May and decided to set a goal that I would stand every time it was cued by the end of summer, and I have kept doing that consistently.  The next night, I took Group Power.  I had been avoiding classes with weights (and words like power, sculpt, or strength), and I was shocked and delighted to find that I enjoyed choreographed group weightlifting to music.  The next morning, I was sore from head to toe even though I had used the lightest weights possible.  But I was hooked on taking it again.  Now, I'm including the larger-sized weights during warmup and legs and choosing the higher intensity options where we leave the ground.  I started to grow, not just physically, but in my level of confidence to try new things and challenge myself.  At the age of 47, this was a need in my life, even though I had not known it before.  

In the fall, Julie, the group fitness director asked if I would help with their annual fund campaign, and I jumped at the opportunity to give back to this organization in any way.  While my efforts didn't raise a ton of money, I learned so much about what the Y does for the community and was very excited to share that with others.  My Y story is important to me, but it is small compared to the impact they are having more broadly.  I am thankful for what they do for me and for underserved communities and for lower-income families and for people who might otherwise slip through the cracks in the system.

This year, I am most thankful for the Alexander YMCA in Raleigh, and I am especially grateful for the people who teach me and support me there - From the ones whose classes I take most regularly (Matt, Stacey, Jay, and Liz) to those I can only fit in sometimes (Julie, Gwen, Dean, Greg) and some of the classmates I have (David, Ellen, Lisa, Diane, Christie, Alex, Nick, Karen, Steven), you are sources of joy, and I look forward to seeing you every week.  I couldn't be happier to have you in my life.

A Tribute to GRACE Leadership

It's a weird time in education these days.  Coming out of the pandemic, everyone is recovering from the chronic stress of the past two years.  Students are less engaged.  Parents are feeling insecure.  Teachers and administrators are simply exhausted.  This has led to some interesting outcomes.  People are more demanding and less patient.  Burned-out teachers are choosing other professions.  

And, if you follow enough teachers on social media, you will find a lack of trust between teachers and their administrators.  This may be the saddest impact of all.  These are the people who should have each other's backs, but it seems that right now, people are too exhausted for empathy.  As a result, many administrators don't give teachers the benefit of the doubt, and many teachers assume the worst motivations from their leaders.

GRACE isn't immune, but because we already had a close relationship with our leaders and were in awe of them through the remote and hybrid times, we have been able to hold on to our loving relationships better than most.  As the year began, I prayed that this would be a year we would not have an opportunity to be in awe of their leadership.  This week showed that this prayer won't be answered for at least another year.  A teacher who has only been with us for a few months informed us the night before we returned from spring break that he would not be returning.  

With only nine weeks of school remaining, what is a school to do with this situation?  Try to hire a new teacher?  With the amount of time that would take, students would be left teacherless for most of the remaining days of the year.  As I said earlier, parents are feeling insecure about education as we emerge from the pandemic, and math is where that insecurity is most concentrated.  I don't know what would have happened in other schools, but here's what happened at GRACE.  Our principal stepped up and stepped in.  She was a math and science teacher prior to entering administration, so our kids will learn math well for the next nine weeks.  And, we know they will be loved for the next nine weeks.

But, it's not like she was loaded with free time before this happened.  GRACE administrators have jobs that are more than full-time already.  So, what happens with her principal responsibilities?  Other administrators have stepped in.  Our deans are doing more end-of-year planning, and our head of school is taking on more observations.  Our librarian, who was planning the DC field trip with our principal is now bringing it home alone.  The dominos just keep falling.

I don't know if shouting things from the rooftops was ever a real thing, but tribute must be paid to these awesome leaders, and this blog is the most public platform I have.  Thank you, Mandy, for stepping up at a moment's notice for our students.  Thank you, Meagan (our math department chair) for dealing with the inherent awkwardness this situation makes.  Thank you to Eric, Blake, Daniel, Cathy, and Willa Bea for taking as much off Mandy's plate as possible in the coming weeks.  Thank you to Marcia for making sure our 8th grade still gets a great trip to DC.  

And, thank you to everyone who prays for us.  Please add Mandy and the rest of these awesome administrators to your list if they aren't on it already.  And, if they are, give them a few more minutes.

  

Thanksgiving 2022 - 18 Years of Yearbooks

The call came during the summer of 2005. "Keep an open mind while I tell you this," said Kathie Thompson.  She told me that she wanted me to take over the yearbook.  "Does it bother you that I don't know what I'm doing?" I asked.  She felt confident I could do it, and I promised two years before we would revisit whether I should continue with it.  That year, I learned more about computers, organization, planning, and guiding students than I had in the rest of my life before (or since).  

At that time, GRACE had about 342 students and only 14 athletic teams.  We did not yet have regularly scheduled theater productions or any clubs to cover.  With a graduating class of 7, every senior got their own page. We had a limit on how many photos could be stored on the Jostens website.  If I recall correctly, it was the number of pages in the book times 14, not including portraits.  That was okay, though, because I could only upload one photo at a time.  The yearbook that year was 84 pages long.  The dedication was read in a faculty meeting.

This year, eighteen years later, we have an enrollment of over 850.  We have 27 athletic teams, two theater productions each year, more fine arts classes, more clubs, an active student council, and bigger graduating classes.  Last year's book was 176 pages long.  During that time, we also developed the ability to track who was placed in the yearbook, which led to my biggest goal - getting each student K-12 pictured in the book a minimum of three times.  Others appear more, of course, because they may be involved in many school activities - (The record remains Alex Dolwick.)  After several years in the high 80s and low 90s, Harrison Huntley said we should try to get 100%.  I declared that to be impossible, but then we did it.  We've done it every year since, even the hybrid year (well, we were 2 people shy of 100% that year).

The yearbook is more work than I ever knew was possible.  From photographing events to assigning pages to emailing senior parents and teachers for the photos we need to guiding students in page design to marathon proofreading sessions to sorting books for distribution, the book you hold in your hands is much more than paper and ink.  There's love in those pages, and there has been for the past 18 years.

Last spring, I started feeling that it was time to pass The Torch to someone else.  I emailed Mandy Gill and told her what I had in mind (more on that in a future post), and she replied, "Sounds great. I'll start working on it."  That was at the end of April.  At the beginning of May, the fine arts department was having a meeting, and Wendy Warlick said, "I'd love to the yearbook someday, but I'd never take it away from Beth."  Because the fine arts chair, Elizabeth Walters, is my friend, she knew my plan and said, "You're going to want to go talk to her right now."  It's funny how God just lines things up like that.

Throughout this year of lasts, there are a few things that I'm happy to give up, thinking "Whew, I won't have to do that again."  There are also some more melancholy moments, in which I think, "Oh, man.  I guess I won't get to do this again."  There are definitely some mixed emotions, which will only increase as the year goes on and I get closer to my last distribution.  But my overriding emotion is thankfulness.  I'm thankful for what the yearbook has given me over these last 18 years.  Here's a short but very incomplete list.

• Connection with teachers and students from TK through 12th grade - I sometimes creep out students when they come to the meet and greet before their 8th-grade year r I already know their names.  "How did you know?" they ask, and I have to stop myself from saying, "Do you know how many hours I have stared at your face in order to match your name to it?"  There are students that I look forward to teaching from the time they are in kindergarten because they have been fun to photograph for so many years.  I had a girl come in one year, look at me, and say, "Finally."  I knew exactly what she meant.  I've had very young kids approach me in public, to the confusion and apprehension of their parents.  Trust me when I say it does not bring down their alarm level if I say, "Don't worry.  She knows me because I've taken her picture a lot."
• Tangible contribution to legacy - Teachers sometimes don't get to see their legacy.  The seeds we plant can take a very long time to grow.  Sometimes, we see the fruit, and sometimes we just have to trust that seeds will grow eventually.  The day the books arrive and the day they are distributed, I get an immediate sense of gratification that this work we have done is in our hands.  Sometimes, I walk through the lobby and see prospective parents and students in the lobby, looking through a yearbook to get an idea of what the school is like.  It always makes me smile to see the work I have done meaning something to someone else.
• A complete picture of GRACE - It's easy for teachers to get tunnel vision about their schools.  I teach 8th-grade science and physics, so it would be easy for me to lose sight of the fact that there are younger kids and other subjects and that kids have extracurricular involvement if I hadn't been the yearbook advisor.  Everyone knows how much I love GRACE Christian School, and one of the reasons I love it is that I know it so deeply from top to bottom. 
• Jostens Staff - I know there are other yearbook companies out there, but for me, Jostens is the only one.  I began this job with no idea what I was doing, and Jay, my Jostens rep was so kind as he walked me through everything.  He even asked me for suggestions for changes they could make to the site like I wasn't as green as grass.  When he came to visit, we would always end up talking for an hour or more after school got out.  At that time, my plant rep was Anissa (now married to Jay), and she was so good about helping me solve problems after a page was submitted or emailing to say they had put a page on hold because there was something they found that they thought I might like to deal with before it went into production.  I have different reps now (as Jay and Anissa moved at the end of the hybrid year), but they remain the high-quality partners I've come to expect from Jostens.  My relationships with them aren't just business relationships; they are part of my community.
• My yearbook staffs - The first year that I took over as advisor, the majority of my class didn't really want to be there.  They had signed up for electives late and gotten their third or fourth choice. I did, however, have a core of people that I knew to be responsible and creative.  Those four met with me on separate days and ended up being my first editorial team.  Every year after that, I have been able to recruit great staff members.  I have had people join as freshmen (even 8th graders back when our electives met all together) to prove themselves dedicated and insightful and become editors by their junior or senior years.  It takes something special and quirky to be great at yearbook editing, and of course, quirky is my defining quality, so these students have often been those I developed the closest relationships with during their time at school.  I have loved getting to know them and seeing what they pursue after high school.  Some have stayed in touch long after they left me.  Part of me wants to list them here to specify how thankful I am for them, but I fear I would leave someone out, and I don't want to do that.  

If you had told me at this time last year that I would be thinking of giving up the yearbook by the end of the school year, I would have thought you were crazy.  But I am excited about the things I will do with the time this frees up in my life (I promise, I'll post about it in the spring).  I am happy to watch the new advisor take the yearbook to a different place than I was taking it and to support her in any way that I can.  I am grateful to my principal, Mandy Gill, for reading my rambling email in which I nervously approached this idea and saying, "Sounds great" rather than resisting change.  I'm grateful to know this is my last book, so I can feel all the feelings of each last time.  And I'm grateful to Kathie Thompson for that 2005 call in which she encouraged me to "keep an open mind."

Most of all, I'm thankful for how God has used the past 18 years to develop something in both students and in me.  

Thanksgiving - Colleagues

Every November, I use this blog to express my gratitude for those people in my past who have formed the educator I am today.  These have mostly been teachers I had in middle and high school.  I am continually thankful for formative people, but this year, I want to express my gratitude for the people who are currently in my educational life.  I will do this in three posts because I am thankful for my current administration, the parents of my students, and the colleagues with whom I share my daily life.  This post will be about the teachers of GRACE Christian School.

This is the most important post of the Thanksgiving series.  While admin is important, they do not necessarily set the tone of your day.  While supportive parents matter a lot, you don't see them or hear from them that often.  Your colleagues are the closest people to you and the ones who can make your day better.

It's hard to overestimate the importance of the teachers right around you.  When you have a problem, you turn to them for support and advice.  When you have good news, you want to share it with them because you know they will understand it more fully than anyone else.  When you step out into the hall and make eye contact with them in their room, volumes are spoken without words through a smile or the raise of an eyebrow.  While I love all the teachers at GRACE, I want to express my gratitude specifically for a few.  

My art teacher friend, Elizabeth, is the friend you want to have.  She'll tell you what you need to hear, but she'll do it in the most loving way.  She'll celebrate with you, help you with whatever scheme you are hatching, and give you a hug just when you need one.  In the 2019/2020 school year, I ate lunch in her classroom every day, with a small group of senior art students.  She made me part of the class (except I didn't get graded for doing art projects).  When we went into remote learning, she sent me the link so I could continue to eat lunch with them.  It was one small bit of "normal" that helped me maintain my sanity.  She has always framed it as my doing her a favor, but it meant more to me than she could know.

My room is placed in an area of the hall where the walls are blue, so we have called ourselves "Blue Pod" since moving in.  There have been a number of great blue pod members (and some that just moved on through), but I would say the best total group is there today.  

- Zane, a biology and anatomy teacher, was higher standards than anyone I know.  He challenges students at a high level, but they also know he will support them in meeting those standards.  His room is always hopping with students asking questions, attending help classes, or studying a skeleton.  He's been at GRACE the same number of years as I have, so we've been through a lot together.  I can say just a few words or a name, and he knows exactly what story is associated with it.  I am grateful for our history together.

- Julianne is the most encouraging person I've ever met.  No matter the situation, she's always looking for the good or the lesson God is teaching her or the part she should be thankful for.  She's not a Pollyanna; she doesn't silver-line your pain.  She is just purely encouraging.  If a student has complimented you in her class, she will track you down to make sure you know about it.  She always challenges me to find a more Godly perspective, and I am thankful for that.

- Melanie is the friend who checks on you.  Once, I left not long after school got out.  That night, I had an email from her, asking if I was okay.  She thought perhaps I was sick or upset about something and wanted to check-in.  During the lockdown, she was the one who said, "Let's figure out a way to safely eat lunch together or go for a walk.  Near the start of this year, when I was especially down, she said she was concerned about me and suggested that we laugh together on Friday afternoons.  

- Meagan is the person I go to for wisdom.  She wants to make sure she doesn't live in an echo chamber so she reads and listens to podcasts that offer a differing perspective from her own.  When I have a complex issue to deal with, she's the one who can help me analyze it from all sides.  Hers was the room I went to on January 6th, and she's the one I ask to read a reply to a parent email if I want to make sure I'm not being rude.  She takes on responsibility with grace and poise.  Even though I am over a decade her senior, she is who I want to be when I grow up.  

There are others who I could talk about for specific events, and there are a Latin teacher, Bible teachers, and an English teacher who have moved on to other jobs; but the ones mentioned here are the people who impact my life each and every day.  It's an embarrassment of blessings, and I am grateful for them all.  Thank you, Lord for my co-laborers in education.

Thanksgiving - Parents

  Every November, I use this blog to express my gratitude for those people in my past who have formed the educator I am today.  These have mostly been teachers I had in middle and high school.  I am continually thankful for formative people, but this year, I want to express my gratitude for the people who are currently in my educational life.  I will do this in three posts because I am thankful for my current administration, the parents of my students, and the colleagues with whom I share my daily life.  This post will be about the parents who send their students to GRACE Christian School, especially those who I have taught during the pandemic.

If you asked teachers to rank their challenges in educating students, dealing with parents would likely rank high on the list.  We all want to view the parents of students as partners in their child's education, but it can be hard because our perspectives are very, very different.  Parents have a small number of kids to deal with, but they are their own.  They have to deal with the homework meltdowns and the lost games and the sibling relationships.  They know their individual child's strengths and weaknesses, which they have feelings of pride and guilt about (even if they shouldn't).  Teachers have a large number of kids to deal with, but we get to send them away from us at the end of the day.  While we love them a lot, it is folly to pretend that our relationship with them is the same as that of their parents.  We have some pretty specific goals for them, but we haven't had those goals since they were in diapers.  Neither of these perspectives is wrong, but because they are different, it can lead to conflict in a meeting.  When I was younger, I was often told, "You're not a parent, so you'll never understand."  (Side note:  That's a fundamentally mean thing to say to a person who is has chosen a career in which understanding kids is crucial, so you should find a different way to express to the teacher that you have different perspectives.)  What I wanted to respond was, "You have one kid.  You'll never understand." (but I didn't because, you know, professionalism)  Twitter is where a lot of educators go to vent their frustrations (which I'll never understand because, you know, professionalism), so if you look at their posts, you will often see a lot of complaints about lack of support and unrealistic expectations and even some fringe-y people who basically think they should be able to take over for the parents entirely.

This wasn't meant to be a post about why parents and teachers sometimes have conflicts.  I said all that to set up my gratitude in contrast to the adversarial relationship and lack of trust that shows up in a lot of these online discussions.  The vast majority of parents I have dealt with (especially in the last three years) have been supportive and helpful.

While the world looks at 2020 as the year the world fell apart, I am reminded that for GRACE, 2019 was no picnic either.  When we lost one of our students that February, the GRACE community showed what it does best.  They rallied around each other, engaging in a time of corporate grief.  Flowers were sent.  Love and grace were extended from every direction.  Weeks later, a parent of a senior wrote to me and said, "I wanted to let you know that I am specifically praying for you.  I'm praying for all the teachers generally, but I am specifically praying for you."  What do you say in response to that level of kindness?  She recognized that the lost student was in my class, and even though her son (who I taught) didn't know the girl, she was supportive of me.  In April of that same year, we were on the 8th grade Washington DC trip, when we received some sad news.  Again, the parents on that trip rallied to support us.  One mom just pulled three of us into a circle and said, "We're going to pray now."  A dad on the trip said, "I just want to fix it for everyone."  

When we went into lockdown in March of 2020, our culture praised teachers for their response as parents realized how challenging it was to teach their own children.  In the general public, that support lasted about a month.  Then (again on Twitter, which I recognize isn't a random sample of the population, but it is what I see most), I began seeing teachers talk about unrealistic expectations from their parents, demands at all hours of the night and day, complaints about the teacher's expectations, methods, and practices.  It seemed that a month is what the world thought was a good amount of time to have "figured this out."  While I was reading all of this from far-flung educators, I went to my mailbox and found hand-written notes of support from parents.  I got thank you emails for the efforts we were making for kids.  At last year's graduation ceremony, parents applauded when the teachers stepped into the aisle for the recessional.

It's not like a never get an unreasonable request or a parent whose perspective rubs against my own.  That's always happened, and it is always going to.  What I have considered, however, as I compare my experience with those of others is that they view their relationships with parents (and administrators) as adversarial.  Those teachers don't trust the parents of their students, and they assume those parents don't trust them.  My experience is far different because, for the vast majority of my students and their parents, there is a basis of trust. Even when conflicts arise, we are able to engage in problem-solving with a belief that the other wants what is best for the student.  Four years ago, I met with a parent because her daughter's paper appeared to be plagiarized.  The mom pointed to the introductory paragraph and said, "Yeah, I wrote that part."  I fell into laughter because you can't stay mad at someone who is that willing to own the problem.  We talked for a long time that day, and I made a friend.  When she asked if her child should re-write the paper, and I said, "How about I just don't give her any points for the first paragraph (because she actually had written the rest of it herself, which was obvious from the change in level), she said, "Yes, that sounds right."  That's not how I expected that meeting to go, but I've always been grateful that it did.

Parents of GRACE students.  We know that you are sending us your best kids and trusting us to do right for them.  We take that responsibility seriously, and we are so grateful for your extraordinary level of support.  

Lessons in Ethical Leadership

 I just finished reading a book about ethics and leadership.  I am intentionally not naming the book or the author here because of our tendency to accept or reject a person's words, not based on their merit, but on whose side we are one.  (That said, it wouldn't be hard for you to Google quotes if you are really motivated to find out).  It is a well-told story of how a person's character is built from decisions made at a very young age and how that character then informs leadership decisions in adulthood.  There were a few things that stood out to me, and I wanted to mention them here and connect them to our role as teachers.

Ethical leaders are both tough and kind.  It is unethical to allow people to get away with whatever they want rather than hold them accountable for their actions.  It doesn't make you the nice boss or the easy teacher.  It means you have abdicated your moral authority, which is not okay.  What I have learned in 22 years of teaching, though, is that toughness doesn't exclude kindness.  In my younger days, I pulled kids into the hall and read them the riot act.  That hasn't happened in a long time.  In recent years, if I have had to pull a kid into the hall, I have started with, "What's going on?"  The conversation that follows can be kind and focused on problem-solving while still holding students to appropriate boundaries.  Often, in fact, that conversation ends with, "You know I have to write this up now, right?  You know I still love you, right?"  

Humility and confidence are not antonyms.   I knew that a person could be both confident and humble at the same time, but I don't think I had ever considered before reading this book that showing humility actually requires confidence.  Showing humility means putting yourself in a bit of a vulnerable position, and you cannot do that if you are insecure.  A good leader knows their strengths, but they know their weakness better and, as a result, they take steps to hear from people who are strong in those areas.  

Honesty matters more than loyalty.  The way we understand loyalty is deeply flawed.  We think a loyal friend will always tell us what we want to hear and take our side, no matter what.  That's wrong.  A loyal friend is one who tells you the truth.  They tell you what you need to hear.  If you are wrong, they love you enough to tell you, and they don't worry that you will stop being friends with them for doing so.  "Ethical leaders speak the truth and know that making wise decisions requires people to tell them the truth."

Ethical leaders care deeply about those they lead.  Because they care, a leader will be honest and share his heart with those he leads.  He will treat them with respect.  He will often sacrifice his time to listen, to care, and to help solve problems.  "They create an environment of high standards and deep consideration - love is not too strong a word - that builds lasting bonds and makes extraordinary achievement possible."  This cannot be done sitting behind a desk.  It is done by talking and listening to your people.

It is a weak leader who never laughs.  Laughter, real laughter, the kind that comes from enjoyment requires humility and vulnerability.  It requires listening to another person.  It requires enough of a bond to understand the intent of the speaker.  It requires acknowledgment of the other person's wit or cleverness.  You cannot laugh and be defensive at the same time.  Many leaders are serious, and they should obviously take their job seriously, but a joyless leader is hard to follow.  If a leader never laughs, you should be suspect of that person's character.

Small sins, left unaddressed, become your character.   The author of this book is very tall, and he got tired of answering the question about whether he played basketball (which I can relate to) and explaining why he did not.  So, he just starting saying, "Yes" because it was easier.  At some point, he realized that he was easily telling this lie and that the longer he did, the easier telling lies would become.  He wrote to the people he had told this lie (which most of us would consider a benign lie) and apologized to them.  He knew he did not want to continue moving the line of which lines were acceptable.  He also relates a story of a time when he acted as a bully in college and how haunted he was by that experience, even as a middle-aged man.  I think we have a tendency not to see individual actions as important, but these decisions are formative.  They make us who we are.  Your character is like a brick wall, and each action is like a brick in that wall.  One wonky brick might not impact the overall strength of a wall, but not addressing whatever caused that on the next level and the one after that will lead to a poorly built structure.  

As I read this book I was struck by how blessed I have been in those I have served.  With a small number of exceptions, I have worked for excellent leaders, who led well.  From the boss I had when I was an arena janitor to my current school administration, I have had the good fortune to be led well by men and women of character, who cared deeply about those under them and led with honesty, laughter, confidence, and humility.  For that, I am grateful.

Thanksgiving - The Small Things Matter

Most years, my Thanksgiving week post is about a teacher I had who was formative in my life as an educator.  One of the things I've noticed this year is that I have been more focused on gratitude for the smaller things.  Noticing what we can be thankful for every day has taken precedence during this time.  The thing I am thankful for in this post is this set of supply cabinets.

At least a few times a year, I open this cabinet and look at the blessings I have.  

If you are not a teacher, you may not know what a rare thing it is to have a fully stocked supply cabinet in your teacher work room.  If you are a public school teacher, you are likely jealous of what you see in this picture.  When I need post-it notes, I come to grab a pack.  When I need whiteboard markers, I come grab a red and a black one out of these bins.  (When I need a whiteboard eraser, I order some from Amazon because I am really picky about my erasers and don't want to ask the school to order special ones for me.)  Staples, tape, paperclips.  Here they are.  When I worked in public school, I counted the number of sheets of paper I used every month, but here I have this amazing cabinet.

If you want to be further jealous of what I have at GRACE, note what you see in this photo.

If, by chance, there is something we do not have in the magical supply cabinet (usually less consumable things like staplers), we can write it on this whiteboard, and our office will order it for us.  

One of my favorite silly memories comes from this board.  I don't know if it will translate in writing, but here goes.  Someone had written "small binder clips" on the board.  At that time we had a Jim Halpert-esque faculty member.  He wrote, "even smaller binder clips."  Wanting to keep up with him, I wrote, "even smaller binder clips than that."  A week later, the cabinet was full of three different sizes of tiny binder clips, and I would imagine we haven't had to buy any more since then.

As you look around this year and think of those things for which you are thankful, go past the obvious and think of the small things in your daily life, those things that just make life easier.  Be thankful for those as I am this cabinet. 

Thank You for Your Continuous Support

I spend a lot of time on EduTwitter.  It is simultaneously a great place for professional development and a dark and cynical place.  In some ways, it's a digital teacher's lounge.  The pandemic has only served to amplify those extremes. 

Just as schools began to close in March, EduTwitter was filled with people who had done online schooling before offering their best practices, making their resources available for free, and just generally being super supportive to other educators.  It was lovely and encouraging. 

About a week into the shutdown, divisions started rising between those who want to pretend online school is no different that in-person schooling and those who say, "This is a pandemic.  Why are we requiring students to do anything at all?"  My personal opinion, as usual, lies between the extremes.  Things are different.  There is no doubting that.  I believe it is still my job to provide the best education possible to my students and hold my kids accountable for responsible behavior, but I know that there are things I and they cannot do and try to go easier on them in grading.  Every context is different.  Some schools have wider disparity than others, so they cannot all be held to one standard.

The most disheartening stories in the past week or so are from those whose administrators and districts have changed their expectations from week to week and parents who write to them to complain.  Early on, there was an outpouring of love for teachers from parents who were finding out that their kids were not as easy to teach as they once believed.  As the lockdowns have gone on and this way of life has become routine, they have started to criticize everything from content to assessment.  It's as though they expect that the teachers should have it all figured out by now, two months in.

I read these stories on Twitter, and it makes me sad for them.  When I close Twitter and open my email, I have an encouraging message from a parent who reminds me that their family is praying for us, a thank you note from a student who thought taking a test on Kahoot was great once she muted the music, or a copy of the devotional our Head of School gave that day.  Our teachers send each other song lyrics, scriptures, or videos to keep each others' spirits up.  No place is perfect, and we have flaws to address, but at the end of the day, we address those issues to grow together as a team with love and support from the families who trust us with their students. 

Thank you GRACE administration and GRACE parents, not only for your support at the start of all this, but for your continuous support.

Thanksgiving 2020 - The Forgettable Conversation

As I thought about what to write for Thanksgiving this year, I looked back through some prior years and realized that I have written about the same five teachers pretty frequently.  One day, I was telling a story about my chemistry teacher and realized that I have never written about her on this blog.  

There’s a good reason that I haven’t.  She wasn’t one of “those teachers.”  I didn’t have particularly strong emotional attachments to her.  She didn’t open my eyes to the wonderful world of chemistry.  There are only about three things that I can specifically remember learning from her.  Nevertheless, the story I was telling my colleague made me realize that she is responsible for changing the trajectory of my life, and I am thankful.  Let me explain.

The high school I went to had a well thought out plan for registration in classes for the following year.  You were required to have a conversation with your current teacher about the next level course you wanted to take in their discipline, and they were required to sign off on your choice.  A student in 10th grade English could not simply decide they wanted to take AP Lang the next year or go to the office and enroll in honors.  The teacher had to sign your registration card (This was before there was an internet - I mean, there was one, but it wasn’t yet used by normal people).  If you or your parents wanted to override the teacher’s advice, there was a procedure for that, but it meant that you were not allowed to drop the class once having overridden the judgement of the professional.  This process made everyone take their choices and their decision to override advice very seriously.

Having finished Chemistry, I had several options about which science to take next.  I had decided not to take AP courses, saying I would wait until I was in college to be in college, thank you.  Back then, no one would have pressured anyone into an AP course, and colleges were not yet using them for admissions.  I wasn’t particularly interested in life sciences or earth science, which left me with two options, regular and honors physics.  Not knowing much about physics, it sounded a little scary (and the regular level teacher was incredibly attractive - I was a high school girl; cut me some slack), so I chose regular physics.  When I sat down with Mrs. Demby, she said, “No. You should take honors physics.”  I attempted to argue for a minute, but she said, “I will not sign your card unless you sign up for honors.”  I was an extremely cooperative teenager and believed strongly in the judgment of teachers (Yes, I was annoying to my classmates), so I complied and would never have dreamed of going through the override process.

When I got my schedule during the summer, my honors physics teacher was listed as Jim Barbara.  My brother had been in his class two years earlier.  He said, “You’ll like him.  He’s kind of crazy.”  

If you don’t know my brother, it would be hard for you to fathom what a ringing endorsement those two sentences were.  My brother did not like teachers.  They loved him, but it was rarely mutual.  In the dividing up of our genetic material, I got all of the enthusiasm for school, love for authority figures, and faith in the judgement of experts.  He had none of that, so teachers were mostly necessary annoyances to him.  If he said a teacher was good, that meant most students would find them amazing.  In fact, I’ve only ever heard him say that about one other teacher.

So, I started my senior year in honors physics with my brother’s endorsement of Mr. Barbara and Mrs Demby’s belief that I would do well.  About four days into the school year, I realized that I not only liked physics; I adored it.  I found out that math wasn’t just math.  It expressed relationships between aspects of the world.  Mr. Barbara was, in fact, a little crazy - in the best possible way.  I believe he would have stood on his head if he thought it would help us to learn better.  

I’ve written about Mr. Barbara many times before, so I don’t want to focus on his role in my life.  You can read previous posts for that.  What I realized recently was that I would not have been in Mr. Barbara’s class if Mrs. Demby had not been willing to say, “I won’t sign your registration form if you put regular.”  She didn’t want me to take the easy way out.  She may have even known that part of any girl’s motivation was having the good looking teacher.  Whatever she knew, her willingness to insist that her judgment was better than mine put me on a path I might not have otherwise been on.

I haven’t seen Mrs. Demby since I graduated.  I’m not even sure I saw her during my senior year because I didn’t have any classes on her floor.  I don’t even know if she is still alive, so I cannot ask if she remembers this.  If I had to guess, I would imagine that she has no memory of this conversation.  She had similar conversations with every student every year.  As a teacher, I don’t have specific memories of these conversations for more than a few days (except for the times when they override my advice and it goes poorly).  The conversation that changed the direction of my life was likely the most mundane conversation she had that week.

The other physics teacher at my school said that one of her inspirations for majoring in physics in college was a video her high school physics teacher showed.  While it is possible that teacher had chosen that video very carefully because he believed it to be powerful, it is also likely that he was just tired that day and chose to show a video rather than teach (come on, now, we’ve all done it).  Either way, it sparked her interest in the world of physics.  These stories make me think about the power we have as teachers.  What conversation do I not remember having with a student that has stuck with them for years?  What did I do or say in class that changed a student?  Was it a good change or a bad change?  I speak hundreds of thousands of words each day.  Each one of them has some degree of impact on my students.  Some are minimally impactful, carrying influence for only a few minutes.  Others may change the path of a students’ life in a way I will never know.  This is why the Bible gives a strong warning In James 3:1 that “not many should presume to be teachers because they will be judged more harshly.”  While it is referring to those who teach the Scripture, I believe the principle applies to all teaching because of the potential we have to build up or tear down.

While I thank God for Mrs. Demby’s insistence that I take a higher level class, I also pause to pray that God gives me wisdom as I have similar discussions with my own students. As far as I know, Mrs. Demby did not believe in God. It's possible that my friend's teacher didn't either. That'd didn't stop God from using them. Surely as people whose mission is to spiritually equip, challenge, and inspire students, he can use us in similar ways.


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Thank You, Administrators

Some teachers want to be administrators, thinking that it must be easier to work in the office than in the classroom.  This has NEVER crossed my mind.  There's not enough money in the world to make me want their job.  Between student teaching and my career, I've worked in five different schools under 9-21 different administrators (depending if you count only the top guy in charge or all of the principals and assistants as well).  As you can imagine, I've taught under some great ones and some poor ones.  It makes a huge difference.

My first principal was the perfect person for me to have as a first-year teacher.  As you can imagine, I screwed some stuff up during my first year.  I said the wrong things and did some things that weren't wise because, when you make five hundred decisions a day with no experience, you are going to make some poor ones.  Mr. Matthews always had a story that would make me feel hopeful that the foolish decision or mistake wasn't fatal.  He had done something equally bad during his early years, and he was a much-loved principal.

The day to day support of administrators helps create school culture, make teachers feel safe, and protect the overall vision of the school.  That also means that a poor administration creates a negative culture, makes teachers nervous and insecure, and keeps the school from proceeding with a unified goal.  The administration matters every day.

Then, there are the special days, the days when the quality of the school administration matters even more than it usually does.  They are days when we look to them for guidance most, and that is when there is a tragedy.  Whether that is a national tragedy, like September 11 or a school-specific one, like the death of a student, the administration sets the tone. 

My school lost a student almost a month ago, and I have been in awe of our administrators.  When our head of school called us together to make the announcement, he couldn't have been more genuine, showing students his own emotion.  Our principal allowed everyone to do whatever they felt they need to do, from going back to class to staying together if we needed to.  She announced to students that there was help available.  Our administrators called in local pastors to help with counseling students, reminded teachers that our insurance provided counseling, and sent emails of support.  They provided all of the support we needed, but they were never intrusive.  I cannot imagine how they did all of this while managing their own grief, but I couldn't have asked for this situation to be handled more perfectly.

Thank you, GRACE administrators.  You are awesome every day.

Thanksgiving Post 4 - Mr. Barbara

When you teach, you often get asked who was "the one."  People want to know who the teacher was that inspired you to be a teacher.  You may be able to tell from the series of posts this month that I didn't just have one.  I had many teachers in my life that pushed me along the way and inspired me in different ways.  (I haven't even touched on the English teachers who made me love literature and taught me to organize my thoughts in writing.  I haven't mentioned a favorite math teacher who showed me the magic of fractals.)  God definitely blessed me with "the several."  However, there is one teacher who beyond doubt is the reason I teach physics today.  My physics teacher, Mr. Jim Barbara, is the physics teacher everyone should have had.

Let's start with this astounding fact.  My brother liked him.  My brother is not a fan of teachers.  He tolerated their presence in his life at best.  When I got my schedule for my senior year and saw Mr. Barbara's name on it, my brother said, "You'll like him.  He's crazy."  That may not sound like a high praise, but from my brother, it is a glowing recommendation.  From the first day of school, it was clear that Mr. Barbara loved physics.  I mean, he loved it, and he obviously loved teaching it.  I'm not sure I ever had a teacher who seemed to be having more fun than Mr. Barbara.  I'm sure you already know this, but when the teacher is having fun, the kids learn more (A thought I keep in mind while I'm teaching as well).

Mr. Barbara had more energy than a person can handle while standing still, so he was always bouncing around the room.  He would be in the middle of a sentence and run into the storage room to get something to illustrate his point, emerging from the storage room still talking.  He just had more to say and show us than he could contain.  I couldn't get enough, and since I had him the last period of the day, I would often stay for a few more minutes to ask him more questions (I didn't stop being a demanding learner after Mr. Sandberg, you know).

Although Mr. Barbara and I had different worldviews, I felt that he respected mine (or at least my devotion to it).  When he discovered the internet (This was 1994, and he was the first person I ever heard use the word internet.), he actually took the time to tell me about "religious things" he had seen on it.

Because of Mr. Barbara's energy and response to my innate curiosity, I devoured physics.  I went home at the end of each day and did my homework in reverse class order so that I could do my physics first.  I would be sitting at a concert and be really excited that I knew how the microphones worked.  I would watch a play and wonder about the physics behind getting the sets to move.  This was possibly also the first time I understood that math described the function and relationship of things.  I had been able to do math, but I had not understood its purpose until Mr. Barbara connected it to physics.

I was a college freshman when I found out that Mr. Barbara was leaving the teaching profession for the world of computer networking.  I wrote him a letter, telling him that while I knew he didn't owe me an explanation, I wanted one anyway.  I'm sure he enjoyed his career in computers, but the world of education suffered a great loss that day.

When people tell me they don't like physics, I tell them they didn't have the right teacher.  The teacher is important in every discipline, but in a subject like physics, it is essential that you have someone who can show you the bigger picture and reveal "the awesome" that lies behind the work.  Mr. Jim Barbara did that for me, and for that and all his energy and love, I am thankful.

Thanksgiving Post 3 - Mr. Sandberg

While I wrote these posts in order of the year I had each teacher, I am very happy that this particular teacher landed on the week of Thanksgiving.  When I think of the teachers for which I am most thankful, Mr. Don Sandberg is number one on the list.  This should be the easiest post to write, but it is actually difficult because it is hard to sum up what Mr. Sandberg has meant to me in just one post.

Mr. Sandberg taught me physical science in the 9th grade, and this is the subject I have taught every year for the last twenty years.  In the first two years of my teaching, I never sat down to do a lesson plan without thinking of how Mr. Sandberg taught me.  If there was an analogy or example or technique he used to make something clear to us, I wrote it into my own plans.  Although I have developed my own style and techniques in the classroom, some of those early things remain in my teaching to this day.  Any student who has had me for physical science has gotten at least a little instruction from Mr. Sandberg.

Perhaps the most important thing Mr. Sandberg did for me as a student was to encourage my curiosity.  He didn't make me curious because I came into the world that way, but he did keep me curious.  And at a time in my life when it would have been easy to throw me off track as I was a loud, strange, 14-year-old girl when I was in his class.  I was a pretty demanding learner.  In the 10 months that I was in his class, I estimate that I asked him 144,000 questions.  I asked him how keys open locks, how gas pumps know to cut off when the tank is full, and thousands of other things.  One day, he pulled out a scrap of paper and said, "I think you would find this book helpful."  It was The Way Things Work by David Macauley.  I ran right out and bought it; and before there was Google, this book was a valuable source of information for me.  I still have it today.  While his recommendation of this book might have been as much for his benefit as mine, it just led to me asking him even more questions.  The important thing is that he never seemed exasperated by my constant stream of questions.  He didn't turn me away, even if he couldn't answer.  It is scary to know that a frustrated teacher on a bad day could say something to squelch a student's curiosity, and it is amazing to me that he never did.  I keep this in mind when I am teaching students like myself.  I look at the picture on my classroom wall and say, "Mr. Sandberg was patient with you.  You must be patient with them."

If you have never taught in a Christian school, you may not know the responsibility that a Christian educator feels in fostering the spiritual development of students, modeling faith, and integrating Biblical worldview into the curriculum.  It is frightening because the last thing you want to do is innoculate students to the Lord, giving them just enough of a weakened version of Jesus that they miss the real thing.  You may not know that teachers receive zero training in how to do this, even when getting an education degree from a Christian university.  When I started at GRACE, I was at a bit of a loss for how to lesson plan with this in mind.  Once again, I thought back to my times with Mr. Sandberg.  He revealed the gospel in everything he did and every conversation he had with students; it was just implicit in who he was.  While I don't know that I will ever think I'm doing enough of this in my classroom, his model was inspirational and still is.

For all that Mr. Sandberg was to me my freshman year and what he continues to be for me now, I am thankful.

Thanksgiving Post 2 - Mr. Freeman

This November, I am writing about teachers I am thankful to have had in my life and the impact they continue to have on my teaching.  This week, let me tell you about my 8th grade Earth Science and PE teacher, Mr. Jim Freeman.

The first day of 8th-grade is mostly listening to the policies of classes.  There might be the occasional getting-to-know-you game, but in a school where you have had the same classmates all day for years, there isn't much of that.  About halfway through the day, we had gotten to our science classroom, when a very tall, dark-haired teacher walked in, closed the door, and said, "Why should Christians study science?".  He then proceeded to talk for 30 minutes about the history of scientists who honored God with their work, the value of studying creation, and the impact Christians who study science can have on society. 

I sat, enraptured by this lecture.  Let me say that again.  I, a middle school student, hung on every word of a lecture, my eyes tracking every move of this man as he walked around the room, for thirty minutes.  I left the room that day, thinking that we were going to something important that year and that I was all in.  Throughout that year, I remained enthralled any time he broke into a lecture, which he enjoyed doing on a fairly regular basis.

There is an assumption, among people who don't know better, that a teacher or youth minister must be entertaining to engage students and hold their attention.  If that is true, educators and ministers are in real trouble.  We are simply not capable of being as entertaining as the media that floods their lives.  We can never be as engaging as their phones.  What I learned from Mr. Freeman that I carry into my classroom is that engagement comes first from instilling a belief that what we do in this room matters. 

I wish I could find my notes for that Earth Science class because they were a virtual transcript of the lectures that followed.  I couldn't get enough of this teacher and this class.  Was it because he was fun?  No (although he was a fun person).  Was it because he was entertaining?  No (even though he had that in him, often breaking into song).  Was it because he had some technique that made his lessons engaging to middle school students? No (although I am sure he learned things like that in his teacher training).  It was because he communicated the value of his class from minute one and passionately stuck to it all year.  For that, and all the books he inspired me to read, I am thankful.


Extra:  As a side note, Mr. Freeman was also my PE teacher.  It's hard to communicate how much I loathed PE.  I was tall, awkward, and afraid of the ball.  There were two positive moments that year.  The first came when we were playing softball.  I stepped up to the plate, and he said, "Just keep your eye on the ball," an instruction that is pretty terrifying if you are afraid the ball will hit you in the head.  I did it, though, and for the only time in my life, I actually hit the ball.  We'll ignore the fact that I was so surprised that I had hit it that I forgot to run to the base.  The second was the only time I was good at something in PE.  This was an all girls' class, and he decided that we needed to learn some self-defense.  We learned a few punches and kicks and how to use our keys to stab an attacker in the eyes.  One day, he lined us up, held his hand out at the level of his head, and told us to kick his hand.  I was the only one who could reach his hand.  I had been dead last at everything in PE for my entire life because of my height and awkwardness.  Now, for the first time, my height was an actual advantage. 

Thanksgiving Post 1 - Mr. Danny O. Watkins

This week at our faculty meeting, our professional development coach was doing a presentation about Growth Mindset.  She made a very sad statement that she could not think of one teacher who made a real impact on her.  I have always known I was blessed to have some great teachers, but as I was mentally making a list and coming to five without even giving it much thought, I was struck by just how many great teachers God put in my life.  Since November has started and Thanksgiving is on its way, I am going to write about one of these teachers each week.  I'll handle them in chronological order.  I would start with my sixth-grade teacher, Mr. Tom Dorrin, the person who turned my personality from fragile to one that can teach middle schoolers, but I just wrote in detail about him in January. This week's post will be about Mr. Danny O. Watkins, my history and homeroom teacher in the 7th and 8th grades.

History was not "my thing."  I didn't hate it, but if I had to list my classes in order of preference, history would always be at the bottom of that list.  Most of the history teachers I had were named Coach Something (Before you turn away, I've known many fabulous teachers who also coached athletic teams.  If, however, you introduce yourself to anyone except for you players as Coach So-and-so, you have a problem.  Your players should call you "Coach."  To everyone else, you are communicating that you teach a class because you have to in order to keep your sports job.  Okay, rant over.) Back to the gist of the story.  I was not inclined to love a history class.

In 7th grade, I was enrolled in Mr. Watkins' North Carolina history class and homeroom.  I don't quite know how to describe what made him so special, but I'll start with this: He's the most positive individual I've ever known.  He could find something good in anyone.  We loved him so much that my two friends and I weren't even bothered when he asked us to sing "How Firm a Foundation" with three-part harmony in homeroom EVERY day.  We just stepped up and did it for no other reason than he wanted us to. 

During that year, I learned a lot.  I learned about Winston Churchill, Frank Boyden of Deerfield Academy, George Washington Carver, W.E.B. DuBois, and Czar Nicholas and Alexandra.  What's that?  That doesn't sound like North Carolina history to you?  Yeah, we didn't care.  He taught what he loved.  You could study from the book for your tests, but he taught the parts of history that he was passionate about.  By the way, I learned about all those same things in American history the next year.  I get that this would not fit with the curriculum driven world in which we teach today, but in 1989, he made me fall in love with parts of history I might not have if he had stuck to the book. 

In particular, I became interested in the story of Czar Nicholas and the family and Rasputin.  In the 8th-grade, I read the book Nicholas and Alexandra for no other reason than the joy Mr. Watkins took in talking about this story.  To this day, if I am flipping through channels and see Rasputin, I stop and watch.  Ten years after this, I was in a Tulsa art museum that had an exhibit of imperial art.  They had Alexandra's crown a desk used by Nicholas.  I stood in that museum with tears running down my face.  I would not have had an emotional response to a crown and a desk if Mr. Watkins had not made me care so much about that family.

While I believe in my curriculum, what I learned from Mr. Watkins is the power of a teacher communicating the passion they have for what they are teaching.  For that and his relentless positivity, I am thankful.