What We CAN Do

 My school has been engaged in its annual fundraising campaign for the last week and a half.  Because we could not have some of our normal in-person events, we have had to ramp up social media efforts.  As a result, we have had a number of videos that describe our school.  The final one focused on our mission statement's opening line.  GRACE Christian School is a loving community.  One of our elementary school teachers describes her experience as a prospective parent coming into GRACE for the first time and, of course, our return to school.  

In the video, she reflects on what her concerns had been on returning to school.  She said, "I was so concerned about wearing masks and plexiglass.  My daughter doesn't talk about that when she gets home.  She talks about the things she did with her teacher.  She talks about Egyptian Day and being able to play soccer on the playground.  Her world is not centered around what she CAN'T do.  Her world is centered around what she CAN do."

We've spent a lot of time and energy in the last eight months talking about what we can't do.  What if our focus shifted?  What if, like this first-grade student, our world was centered on the good things we did during the day?  There are things I didn't know I was capable of before March of last year, so here are a few of the things I've learned that I CAN do during 2020.

1.  I CAN deliver instruction from home and from classroom to kids at home.  Prior to March 2020, I had used Google Hangout for a few meetings with our technology coach when she was living in a different state.  Each time I used it, I had to have someone explain how to set up the call.  During the final quarter of last year, I taught every class from it.  Now, I log in six times every day on both a laptop and an iPad, mute and unmute, share my screen, take the iPad outside, or into the lab, for demonstrations.  I'm not saying it is the same as teaching face to face because it is not, but I CAN still teach.

2.  I CAN teach with a mask on.  There was a lot of concern about masked teaching, especially with some of my students learning from home.  As it turns out, it's not the issue I thought it would be.  I'm already fairly loud, but I have learned to speak even louder (I'm a little hoarse at the end of each week) and with better diction.  In the 10 weeks we have been back at school and masked, I have only had students say, "I didn't understand what you said.  Can you repeat it?" two times.  Don't get me wrong, I am happily anticipating the day when I can teach with my whole face again, it is possible to teach with it covered.

3.  I CAN have some hands-on learning.  I'll admit that this is more difficult with kids at home, but it can be done with some pre-planning.  Our AP Chemistry teacher made kits of supplies and sent them to the kids who learn from home.  She obviously cannot safely send every chemical, but for the ones that she could, she did.  I send a weekly email to my students with a rundown of the coming week and, in it, inform them of any supplies they could use if they have them at home.  I've always taught most of my classes with everyday materials (salt, aluminum foil, 9-V batteries, pennies, balloons) because I've always wanted them to see science as part of their lives, not just things people with fancy equipment do.  This has been helpful because a lot of what I use in class are things that students have in their homes.  If they don't, it isn't a problem because they can be part of a group from the iPad and then use that group's data, but some of them are still getting hands-on experiences.  During last week's conferences, the mom of one of my physics students said, "I saw her going outside with an egg and asked her what she was doing.  She said, 'Physics is doing an egg toss.  I'm going outside and tossing it to myself.'"  Is it ideal?  No.  Is it still possible to have some experimental learning?  Yes.

4.  I CAN laugh with my students.  My kids are funny.  Sometimes, they are even funny on purpose.  They make me laugh every day, in spite of the stress of living during a pandemic.  I have noticed that it is harder to make them laugh because it turns out that a lot of my classroom humor comes from facial expressions, but that just makes me work harder to earn the laugh.  We CAN still enjoy each other.

5.  I CAN model hope, growth, and perseverance.  I know that at least half of what I have learned in my life was not intentionally laid out in a lesson plan.  It was from the way the adults around me lived their lives.  I saw and heard adults talk about the economy, politics, job woes and joys, religious practices, community service, musical tastes, reading for pleasure, etc. from my parents and grandparents, from my friends' parents, from the adults in my church, and from teachers.  My students have seen their teachers keep teaching rather than curl up in a corner.  They have seen us cry, but they have seen us dry out tears and keep going.  They have seen us embrace our mistakes and learn from them.  They have heard us talk about the future.  

Tomorrow, I can teach in person and online and plan for the following week and grade tests and perform labs and attend virtual meetings and eat lunch with colleagues and work on the yearbook and laugh with friends in the hallway and . . . and . . . and.

Let's center our thoughts on what we CAN do, not what we CAN'T do.

It Gets Better (Because That's How The Brain Works)

 Last week, I had a strange conversation on Twitter.  A teacher had said that she was worried about starting back to school soon because they would be in a hybrid situation where half the kids would be at school and half at home.  While the numbers were different, her situation sounded similar to mine, so I said, "I've been doing this for 8 weeks.  It's really hard at first, but you find your rhythm, and it gets much easier as you go."  Anywhere but Twitter, this would be considered an encouraging statement from an empathetic person, but Twitter's weird, so I got replies telling me that they were sick of false positivity and tired of being expected to keep a smile while pulling rabbits out of hats.  One said I didn't understand how hard it was to be an elementary school teacher.  I held back from saying, "Sure, physics is super easy to teach online" and instead replied that each context had its own challenges, but that it would get easier with practice.  This led to the most disturbing reply.

"Respectfully disagree.  This will not get easier."

I don't know where this conversation is now because I have a personal rule to mute online conversations after having replied twice.  (Trust me when I tell that is a rule that will keep you sane.  You don't owe your time to strangers, and they are going to make massive assumptions about you when they don't know anything about you.)

First, let's address the idea of false positivity.  I've never been accused of being excessively positive at all.  I'm not a glass half empty person exactly, but I am for sure not a glass half full person.  In fact, I've often used science to say the glass is completely full because air is also matter or used calculus limits to say that it is half empty if you are drinking out of it but half full if you are putting water in it.  This person who has never met me not only thinks I am too positive, but that an obvious statement like, "this will get easier as you do it" is false positivity.

My real issue in this conversation, however, is the assertion that this will not get easier.  This person is an educator who doesn't seem to understand learning.  All new things are difficult and get easier with practice.  He should have seen this every day in his work.  He should be teaching this to his students when they are having difficulty with what they are learning.  I do not understand how anyone spends their life in a classroom could ever say, "this will not get easier."

In case you don't want to go back and read all of my Learning and the Brain posts from last November, here's a quick tutorial.

1.  You walk around the world in mental balance until you encounter a new skill.  
2.  You experience mental disequilibrium (we call it confusion) as the new skill isn't yet incoporated into your long term memory.
3.  As you start practicing the new skill, it occupies a lot of space in your working memory, requiring a lot of energy and your full attention.
4.  You continue practicing, see how to chunk parts of the skill, after which it takes up less space in your working memory.
5.  After enough practice, the skill is transferred to long term memory.  From then on, you know how to do it, and it takes less energy to do it than it did in the beginning.  You return to mental equilibrium with the new skill on board.  This means you have learned. 

When we returned to school in August, it did feel nearly impossible.  Every day was exhausting, and I slept hard every night.  Remembering how to share my screen with the kids at home in a way that the kids in front of me could also see required multiple steps in a specific sequence.  Now, I can do it in a second, but during the first days of school, I had to say the steps out loud each time I did them.  Remembering to end class a minute early to give kids a chance to wipe down their desks with wipes but not so early that they would congregate by the door was difficult, especially because for some reason, despite its being set by satellite, my computer clock is three minutes slow, but I bought a new watch and set it to the school bell, so it's easier now.  In the beginning, I was emailing each of my at-home students daily to see if they had questions, but I soon learned that they were better at communicating with me than I thought (better than those in the room, actually) and that this was not needed.  I now send them a week at a glance page at the beginning of the week to let them know if there are any supplies they will need besides regular school supplies.  That's easier for me and for them.  Lunch duty is easier than it was because my partner and I have our routine figured out.  Students are more familiar with routines, so I don't have to remind them quite as much.  This Friday was the end of first quarter, and it is much less draining than it was nine weeks ago.  

I left out one part of this teacher's reply.  He ended with, "Teachers and students deserve better."  To that, I say, "Well, duh."  Sadly, we are in the middle of a pandemic and not able to live in the ideal world this man wants.  So now, I'm going to do the Twitter thing and assume something about him even though I know nothing about him.  He's a man who believes there is only perfect or garbage with nothing in between.  That's not the world with or without a pandemic.  We teach our students in an imperfect world and prepare them for one as well, but there are things we can do to make it just a little better.  Sometimes, the breakdown of garbage is just the fertilizer a flower needs to grow.

This isn't negativity.  It's isn't positivity (genuine or false).  It's real, and it's our calling. 

Breakdowns and Fixes

 Every week, I try to think of something to write about that isn't about current events.  I'm tired of writing about the virus and am attempting to avoid political meddling.  However, if we are going to address education right now, it's unavoidable that I frequently find myself writing about teaching during the pandemic.  This particular topic has shown up in my social media timelines about five times this week, so here I am.

The tweets look like this:
"None of us are admitting it, but teachers are breaking down."  
"I wonder how many teachers are close to breaking down or have broken down privately."
"Teachers are reaching their breaking point."
"Educators are going to break down this year.  It's inevitable."  

For the moment, I'll set aside how unprofessional I think it is to take these statements to Twitter in the name of solidarity and openness.  I'll address what seems to be the idea - that breakdowns are bad.  Breakdowns are a God-given mechanism for releasing pent up energy.  Done correctly, they are good and even important.  There also seems to be an implication that breakdowns are unrecoverable.  That's just silly.  When my car breaks down, I don't like it; but I go about doing what it takes to repair it.  I don't just abandon the car on the side of the road.  I'm not a medical professional, but I believe, after 22 years of teaching and a lot of reading about the brain, I have a little insight that could prove useful.  This isn't scripture, so you can disagree, but take these thoughts for whatever benefit you think they have.

Engage in Healthy Brain Behaviors

One of the primary reasons for these breakdowns is that we have brain fog.  We are doing more than we have done before, but our brains do not have the capacity they had a year ago.  The isolation of lockdowns screwed up our brain chemistry, and it is going to take time to rebuild, but you can help your brain if you give it as much of what it needs as possible.

People used the lockdowns to justify forming every bad habit they have ever wanted to have.  From poor diet to day drinking, people not only indulged themselves, but they also went online to joke about it and get affirmation from others.  No one was accountable - because pandemic, right?  

You can't change the past, but you can get back to engaging your brain in proper ways.  Eat foods that are good for your brain as well as your body.  Reduce your alcohol consumption or stop drinking altogether.  Hydrate.  Take a walk outside (Vitamin D is super important, especially with winter on its way).  Stop ranting in all caps on Twitter, and stop reading the rants of others.  These things only feel good for a moment.  They are bad for your brain in the long run.  You are an adult.  You can make decisions that are good for you rather than those that feel good.  Isn't that what you have been teaching your students for years?

Limit Your Commitments

Teachers are notorious for biting off more than we can chew.  In addition to teaching, a lot of educators volunteer at their churches or youth organizations.  They typically tutor.  There are just so many things they want to do.  This has always been taxing on the brain's energy, but this year, you have used your brain energy by the end of the instructional day.  Teaching online requires twice the energy to keep your kids engaged.  Teaching in a hybrid situation means keeping up with a lot of technology at once while maintaining normal classroom management.  I can't even imagine how those of you who go home at the end of the day to your own children do it.  Your brain simply does not have the energy for extracurricular things.

I just had to say to someone I almost never say no to (and to something I would really like to have done).  When I wrote her back, I told her that I was working at school every Saturday to get ready for the next week, so I feared I would be unavailable more often than I was available.  I didn't want to be constantly flaking out on her.  This isn't self-care.  It's just more responsible to allow the person to find someone now than it would be to have her constantly looking for someone to take my place when I couldn't engage.  If I had said yes, I would have felt guilty every time I had to back out, which would lead to far more breaking down.

Take Time for Tears and for Gratitude

Negativity and positivity are equally stupid approaches to life.  They both ignore half of life.  The human brain is capable of acknowledging both bad and good at the same time.  We can see that a glass is equally half empty and half full.  

If you need to cry, go ahead and cry.  Sit in your car or go to your bedroom.  Bury your face in a pillow and cry.  It's a good thing.  I read once that there have been chemicals identified in tears that are stress symptom inducing, so when you release tears, you are literally "crying it out."  It's also good for your blood pressure and heart rate to have a good cry.

After you have cried, take some time to think about your blessings.  It could be as small as the fact that you have a car to cry in.  Some people don't.  It could be a pet that looks at you with love.  I couldn't be more grateful for my school administration, but I see on Twitter that many of you are not.  Perhaps, you can be grateful for a supportive co-worker or family of a student.  When the Bible tells us to be thankful in all things, it didn't mean unless there was a pandemic that made teaching school difficult.  

Recover After a Breakdown

Let's all acknowledge something.  We've broken down before.  Breakdowns may have increased in frequency this year, but they are not new.  I fell apart in the teachers' lounge a few years ago because one senior had not yet turned in their yearbook photos, and I was pushing a deadline.  I sobbed in my hands for two minutes.  I got up, hugged a co-worker, sent an email to the student and taught my classes for the day.  Breakdowns are not permanent.  You've earned it, so go have it.  Then, pull yourself together and carry on with your day.

Think about what our kids are learning right now.  We have debated how to teach them grit and resiliency for years.  Here we are with the most unwelcome opportunity to do so.  One of the things I am most proud of from the spring (the last two springs, actually because early 2019 was a series of gut punches for GRACE) is how our teachers showed kids what coping looks like.  They saw us cry and pull ourselves back together and continue.  They saw us grieve, but they did not see us panic.  They saw us make mistakes, and they saw us fix them.  In some ways, I ended the school year in a broken state, but I also don't think we've ever been better teachers.

I'm not advocating having you breakdown in front of them if you can do it privately.  I am advocating for showing them adult life skills.  To paraphrase Winston Churchill, "Have your breakdown, and carry on."

Three Dimensional Teachers

A few years ago, my friend Ben came to my room to ask a question about prime numbers.  We talked for a moment, and then the bell rang for my class to start.  The student nearest to me asked what had just happened.  I said, "Every year, he gets fascinated by one math thing.  Last year was Mobius strips; this year is prime numbers."  The student replied, "But he teaches Latin."  Since I have a good relationship with this student, I replied sarcastically, "Yeah, when we start teaching, they make us pick one thing.  We're not allowed to like anything else."  The student realized how silly that was and, I hope, came to view his teachers as actual human beings.

I am interested in . . . almost everything.  Seriously, I'm hard-pressed to come up with an example of something I don't find at least a little interesting.  I don't like sports, but I appreciate their physics.  There are genres of books I don't read, but that doesn't mean I don't find my students' interest in them worth talking about.  I'm sure if I knew anything about it, I could find something in the Punic Wars to be fascinated by.  There's a way to find almost everything interesting.  I want my students to know that.  I want them to understand that choosing a career does not mean being that thing.  To that end, I try to communicate with them about many things.

My classroom is decorated with a variety of things.  Of course, much of it is science, but not all of it science that I teach.  One section of a wall is covered with materials about blood donation.  One day, a student said, "When do we learn about blood in this class."  I said, "We don't.  You'll learn about it in Biology next year."  He asked why I had so much stuff about blood on the wall, and I told him about blood donation and why it was important to me.  I have an entire wall of National Parks, not because I will ever teach earth science, but because I love National Parks.  I have bobbleheads, not only of Newton, Einstein, and Fauci but also of Michael and Dwight, Sheldon and Lenoard, and various other pop culture characters.  I have artwork of former students as well as some professional artists that I admire.  I want my room to tell my students that it is okay to love more than one thing.  Fortunately, my school has a high percentage of students who read for pleasure.  I love that and want to encourage it in all of them.  When one of them is reading something I loved, I make sure to comment on it.  

Why does it matter that students view their teachers as three dimensional people with a variety of interests?  For one thing, it would be difficult to form relationships with all students if the only thing I was capable of talking about was physics.  It shows them that being excited about learning, all learning, is an enjoyable part of life.  It shows them that they can be people with a variety of interests as well.  Part of education is becoming a fuller person, so they shouldn't see the educated people in their lives as less full.  

John and Hank Green of Crash Course are good examples of passionate learners in many areas.  Hank is known more for science and John for history, but if you follow them at all, you know they are also just generally nerds for knowledge.  In one of their Vlogbrothers videos, John describes how much he loved sitting in the theater during the lead up to one of the Harry Potter movies and watching excited people enter the theater.  He said, "Nerds like us are allowed to be unironically enthusiastic about stuff. Nerds are allowed to love stuff, like jump-up-and-down-in-the-chair-can't-control-yourself-love it. Hank, when people call people nerds, mostly what they are saying is, 'You like stuff', which is just not a good insult at all, like 'You are too enthusiastic about the miracle of human consciousness'."  

Let's teach our students to be nerds, not because we think academia is the only thing there is, but because we want them to be enthusiastic about the miracle of human consciousness.

Humans - Capable of More Than We Think

 My 8th-grade students have academic blogs.  This week, I asked them to look at the inventions of the time period since 1899 and explain which one they thought was the most important.  Of course, most students wrote about the internet and the smartphone.  A few got clever with things like chicken nuggets and chocolate chip cookies.  Several wrote about air conditioning.  One of the boys who wrote about air conditioning made this statement.   "If we didn't have air conditioning then I don't think that mankind would still be alive."  Now, he's in the 8th grade, and they are prone to exaggeration, but it got me wondering if he realized how recently the invention of the air conditioner is in relation to human history.  It was invented less than 120 years ago and wasn't used in the majority of homes until the late 1960s.  The human race had survived since Adam and Eve without it until about 55 years ago.  

Don't misunderstand, I am also very grateful for Willis Carrier's invention, but this middle school blog post got me thinking about how limited our perspective is on what we can endure.  It also reminded me of what I've been seeing on social media in the past six months from people who don't believe themselves capable of doing the things we need to do to get through the current pandemic.  I've seen so many words like "unsustainable" and "incapable" and "cannot possibly endure until May."  Repeating these words to ourselves and reading them over and over has a deleterious impact on our brains because they fail to put human capabilities in perspective.  Let's do that.

My grandparents grew up in the Great Depression and fought World War II.  Depending on the criteria used, the Great Depression is calculated to have lasted between nine and eleven years.  The average deployment length for an army soldier in World War II was around ten months, but many served more than one deployment.  They endured 24 hours per day without a break (and, I might remind you, no air conditioning) away from family under the constant threat of death.  We are being asked to work longer hours with more duties, but we go home at the end of the day in our cars to climate-controlled homes.  

Their grandparents, by the way, fought World War I and endured the 1918 Spanish Flu pandemic, which killed from 2.7% to 5% of the world's population.  Those fighting in the trenches experienced or observed multiple diseases, from cholera to typhoid.  They slept in dirt, sometimes surrounded by their fallen brothers.  When supply lines were blocked, they survived on food rations that we wouldn't think enough food to survive, much less do an important job with. We were asked to sit on our sofas, watching Netflix and eating food that was delivered to our house two hours after we ordered it.

Perhaps it isn't fair that I've focused on the conditions of war since they aren't representative of everyday life.  Let's continue this historical tour of human endurance.  Those born in the 1850s came of age during the time of the Civil War, but thanks to The Homestead Act, many took on the challenge of settling the West.  Traveling in covered wagons, they endured bitterly cold winters and risk of diseases in frequency we cannot imagine today (in spite of kids rediscovering the video game Oregon Trail).  When they finally arrived in the West, they had to clear land for farming and ranching, build their homes, and sew clothes.  Should I remind you that they didn't have air conditioning or running water for that matter?  Their version of self-care was . . . nope, I can't finish that sentence because self-care was a concept not yet invented.

We could keep going.  There's the generation that literally formed America by writing a constitution after fighting a revolution.  There are those who spent months on boats, traveling the oceans.  Before that, there were those who got on boats, not knowing their destination or even if there was a destination because they believed it was possible they would fall off the edge of the earth.  We can go all the way back to those who literally lived in caves.  People who did not know where their next meal was coming from established civilization for the generations that followed, and we have staged protests over the closing of restaurants while eating food that was put in our car at the curb.  

I'm not saying this year hasn't been difficult.  Of course, it has been.  But it is not unsustainable.  Our responsibilities have increased, but they are not beyond human capability.  People have endured conditions far worse than these for far longer than a school year.  Repeat after me.  WE CAN DO THIS!

Variety is the Spice of Education

When I was a student teacher, I was placed in two different schools during the semester.  Because both schools I was placed in were largely upper-middle-class, majority-white student schools, there were some in my university program who were concerned that I wouldn't get varied experience.  They needed not worry.  My experiences could not have been more different.  I know the differences they had in mind were cultural and socio-economic, and in those ways, the schools were similar; but the classrooms bore no resemblance.  

The first teacher I was placed with taught juniors and seniors physics, astronomy, and AP Chemistry.  He ruled that class like a judge rules a courtroom, and the students did exactly what he wanted them to do exactly when he wanted them to do it.  He could leave the room, and nothing would be different when he returned because they wouldn't dream of stepping out of line.  My second placement was in a basic skills level freshman science class with a very pregnant (our last days were the same day), very relational, very casual teacher who would come in some mornings and say, "Okay, what are we doing today?"  She would not ever leave the room because she might return to a pile of rubble if she did.

In the defense of my experience, a panel member asked me, "If he is on one end of the spectrum, and she is on the other, where do you see yourself?"  It was a good question.  I knew I absolutely could not have been either one of them.  She was so casual that her room was chaos most of the time, but her kids loved her and wanted to be with her.  I'm not sure how much science they learned, but they knew she loved them.  That level of daily chaos and uncertainty would make me insecure.  His room ran like a Swiss watch, but when the bell rang, the kids left like they were being fired from a cannon.  They learned a lot of science, but I doubt he knew their names outside the classroom.   

During my first couple of years, I found my own style.  I was fortunate enough to have a principal who recognized that talent came in different forms.  In case you are wondering, I am extremely planned but open to changing on the fly if the plan isn't working.  I enjoy bantering with students, but I don't let them just all shout out whatever comes to mind.  You won't walk by my room and find me playing hacky sack with a bunch of kids, but I have been known on occasion to lip-sync the entire run of Toto's "Africa" and cannot control myself when it comes to dancing along with Kahoot music.  I have planned exactly what I want to accomplish during the day, but some classes require a lot of focused examples while others take me down a few rabbit trails along the way.  I have expressed deadlines, but I also know that students have different challenges outside of class and that misbehavior is often an expression of unmet needs, so when a student communicates with me, I am open to extending said deadline for individual students.  I do not allow eating in my class (because bugs), but fidgets are fine unless they become distracting.  I find as many reasons to say yes as I can, so that when I have to say no, it is actually meaningful.

The one year I taught in the North Carolina Public School System, I was miserable (like gain 30 pounds in a school year miserable).  There were a lot of reasons for that, but one of the primary ones was that my supervising administrator seemed to feel that there was only one way to be a great teacher (which was, conveniently, the way she taught when she was in the classroom with no acknowledgment that she taught a high-level elective while I was teaching a course that was required for all freshmen (a third of whom were on IEPs).  We were supposed to accept all of the differences of our students, but teachers were expected to fit in a box.  I grant you that the teacher in the box was an excellent teacher, but it just wasn't me.  Thankfully, it was not my first experience, or it might have been my last.  

We, in education, have sometimes sacrificed common sense on the altar of consistency.  Yes, it can be challenging for kids to remember the policies of several teachers, but that is training for life.  Kids need different kinds of teachers.  For one thing, they are going to encounter different kinds of bosses.  In their adult lives, they will encounter all kinds of personalities and have to adapt.  If we don't teach them to adapt, we are not equipping them for life.  

More importantly, kids need different kinds of teachers because there are different kinds of kids.  Some kids need the teacher who shows them how to not take themselves so seriously (Thanks, Mr. Dorrin).  Some need the teacher that challenges their thinking and believes they are capable of meeting that challenge (You're the best, Mr. Sandberg).  Believe it or not, some respond well to a well-crafted lecture (I was mesmerized by yours, Mr. Freeman).  Some students respond to the passion of the teacher and find a love they didn't know they had (I cried in an art museum because of you, Mr. Watkins).  Students that connect well with some teachers don't connect at all with others.  If all teachers were the teacher in the box, we might only reach a small percentage of our students.  We need different teachers to connect with the nerds than the theater geeks.  We need the inspirational English teacher that inspires a love of poetic imagery AND the one that teaches them to craft a proper grammatical sentence (That might be the same teacher, but it might be different teachers over the course of several years).  

Experienced teachers, you probably have a good idea of who you are in your classroom.  Yet, you may sometimes feel guilty that you aren't like the teacher who gives each kid their own personalized greeting at the door.  Or, you may be the cool teacher and exhaust yourself with the effort to be more like the serious teacher down the hall.  Don't.  If your classroom environment is working and your kids are learning, you don't need to be like the teacher down the hall.  Young teachers, it may take you a while to figure out what works for you.  There's much to be learned from your colleagues and mentors, but don't try to be them.  Take from them what works for you, but adapt it for yourself.  You'll find your style, and it will be exactly what some student needs.

Poet William Cowper wrote that "variety is the spice of life."  It's also what keeps school interesting.  Don't fear it.  Embrace it.

Teachers - Stop Beating Each Other Up

This is going to be a short post because there is not much nuance to what I want to say.  It is sad and disheartening to see what teachers are doing to each other online during the return to school.

In March, when the shutdowns began, EduTwitter was kind of a lovely place to be.  They were sharing best practices, showing tech hacks, and encouraging each other that we could do this.  Of course, we were also getting a lot of love from the public as parents realized that teaching their child was kind of a hard job.  About two weeks in, I had to make conscious efforts to limit my time reading teacher posts because they had turned dark.  They were frustrated with their admins and district leaders, feeling that expectations were changing weekly or daily; and while I was sad for them (because my administrators were super supportive and helpful), I was disappointed at the lack of professionalism and often wondered how they were keeping their jobs.

August is very much NOT March.  The whiplash caused by the change in public support is unnerving.  We went from heroes to villains during the summer.  The very same people who were praising teachers in March for their adaptability now have expectations of their kids' teachers that simply cannot be met by human beings as though June and July was enough time to reinvent their practice even while not knowing if they would need to.  Even my beloved Ken Jennings took a soft jab in a joke where he said it was called remote learning because of the remote chance his kids would learn anything.  I wasn't offended by Ken's joke, but it is illustrative of the changing attitude about what teachers are doing.

But, this post is not about the public.  It's not about parents.  It's not even about the teachers who criticize their administrations.  It's about those teachers who insist on beating up other teachers on Twitter.  

- A teacher had posted her rules for her online students, and a swarm of teachers descended on her because she didn't want them to eat while she was teaching them.  This isn't a choice I would have made, but they don't know why she made it a rule.  Perhaps, she has, like others, developed misophonia during the pandemic and the sound of chewing will be distracting.  Perhaps seeing the kids eat will be distracting to her in-person students who cannot eat in the classroom.  
- Some teachers are assigning homework during this time, and they are being responded to with all caps, hand-clap-emoji-filled tweets, telling them that they don't care about their students.  

- While absolutely no one knows what the best way to do hybrid learning is, there are many who will attack the way you have decided to navigate it in your classroom.  Worse, when someone tries to explain their choice, they are accused of toxic positivity and told they are buck-passing cowards for not standing up to their admins and districts.  (I saw this happen yesterday to a poor woman who is just doing the best she can.)

What bothers me about all of this is that none of these attacking teachers seem to care about context.  What's right in an elementary school reading class is not even close to what is right in a high school math class.  What's wrong to expect of a special needs 5th-grader may be perfectly fine to expect of a junior in an AP class.  What is feasible for a private one to one school in the Research Triangle is not even possible for a rural public school in West Virginia.  Context has always mattered, but this situation makes it matter more than ever.  

Teachers are all doing the best we can right now.  Some may appear more confident than others, but we all know that we are not delivering the ideal that we would like to be.  While you are doing the best you can, it is fundamentally cruel to be mean to someone else who is also doing the best they can.  Would you allow your students to do that?  Twitter shouldn't turn us into Heathers.  We're teachers, and everything we publically do sends a message to our students.  Tearing other teachers apart because they carry out their practice differently than you do models intolerant, hateful, bullying behavior to your students.  

You have to stop.  You just have to.