...and it's about damn time, too. :)
We finally (and unfortunately) know what it might take for the world to get a tiny glimpse into the selflessness, endurance, empathy, and compassion necessary to live the life of a teacher.
A pandemic.
The last few weeks have been intense, with a plethora of uncontrollable circumstances surfacing quickly. There have been a great many mysterious meetings held in governmental "offices." Many follow-ups in superintendency-led Zooms. All with the hopes that some familiar problem-solving strategy would help guide the way in determining what the next couple weeks (and months) ought to look like. Based on the resulting swirling questions, ever-changing decrees, constant uncertainties, and increasing variables, clearly we are experiencing a first. And routine problem-solving was quickly exhausted.
And yet there's something about this horrible health crisis that I believe has the potential to profoundly and positively change the way U.S. society views our profession. Just as health care professionals literally hold our lives in their hands, teachers are now being called upon to hold the hearts and minds of our youth in theirs, in a collective manner like never before.
This, my dearest colleagues, is a moment in history where teachers will no longer remain as an invisible backdrop to society's emotional infrastructure.
The things that you do every single day—instinctually, selflessly, consistently—will no longer remain in the shadows. How you compassionately and skillfully hold the well-being of 140 individuals in your head and heart every day, five days a week, will now be seen and felt by the masses. Unlike any other time in history...
...because you are bridging school with home, teacher with family, learning with life.
During this remote learning experience, you may be in a purposeful or serendipitous moment: you may meet other family members, perhaps grandparents, aunties, baby siblings, even pets; you may eat a meal with your students, because that's the only time you or they have to eat; you may get to see your student as a daughter or son, as a sister or brother, in a responsible role. (That's a very different identity than what you typically get to interact with at school, no matter how well you get to know your students.) First year teacher? Thirtieth year veteran? Doesn't matter. This is the Apollo 13 version of fixing the LM's carbon dioxide filter: no textbook or simulation has prepared us for this.
In the midst of a health crisis, teachers are entering homes to carry families through it.
And this will be tough. Joy and Pain will live side by side for a long while. And we aren't being asked to move gently into a new way of being to meet this new "normal." And neither are our students or their families. We've been catapulted there. Inequities will become in-your-face apparent. Survival needs, health problems and job losses will be part of our daily conversations. (Perhaps this might explain some of the discombobulation we already feel.)
This provides us with an opportunity to balance these tough moments with Affirmation. Compassion. Innovation. Joy.
So in the midst of all this, I urge you—I beg of you—to play. PLAY! Push your practice to a new dimension. You may never have this opportunity again. To literally launch a new way for schools to function, rooted in the teachers' and students' lived experiences. What will you do with this chance? What will you learn? What does your class look like, feel like, sound like, when no one is there giving you traditional boundaries, requiring content objectives? When students' lives dictate the direction of the educational experiences, what's the curricular result?
How will students remember this moment in time with you? Because THIS IS one of those moments in their lives that they'll remember. For life. YOU ARE THAT teacher.
And as I stated, I think the teaching profession will be looked at differently from now on. Our communities might gain a deeper understanding of why teaching has been described as one of the noblest of professions. I share this not as pressure. It's something I've always believed. I always will. And now, others will get to see it, too. And they'll picture your face behind this newfound understanding.
Please know that I'm here to support you on this journey! I'm looking forward to intentionally and awkwardly walking through it with you. And helping to provide healing spaces for us to be together. Because we'll need that, too. Thank you in advance for all you do. It's an honor to be a part of this collective.
No matter how we've connected in the past—any content, any level, any continent—happy to brainstorm interactions you're developing with and for your students.
And above all, #StayHome, #StayConnected, #StayHealthy
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