
My years spent teaching in a variety of diverse and very complex social situations taught me that the quickest way into the minds of student inspiration and logic was through the heart. Parker Palmer, Jonathan Kozol, and Nancy Atwell have always been dear minds, to me, in shaping my truest philosophies as an instructor in the field. They were my heroes as a young teacher and still hold a solid place on my bookshelf, with respect for their life’s work. Being genuine (a real person who cared as much or more about the integrity of the student’s worth as human beings than the subject matter itself) with my students allowed me to tap into the depths of knowledge that had been resting dormant for years, just waiting to find the opportune moment to extend outward.
I never thought much about this when I was teaching- it just came naturally. It is who I am. When mentoring younger teachers, I would explain this piece of the human element inherent in sound teaching. But I also believe this is what separates excellent parenting from the rest, too. When students come to a classroom feeling loved fully, they take more risks. They express themselves freely and with the motivation to learn new things! My son taught me, this week, that I had mastered this concept with my students, but I had yet to master it with my own child—at home—in the midst of high adult stressors. This is a new paradigm that all of us are working within at this very moment.
The structure of the day was working very well, for us, in the second week of quarantine-style, home-schooling. Jack would come to the work cycle prepared and even had his homework assignments completed. That was the easy part, delivering instruction two sessions a day, for a veteran educator. What was missing, I soon began to feel, was the inspiration and connection that I had been able to evoke easily in my classroom for the past decade, but could not seem to get this feeling going in the momentum of this newly constructed “school” day. It wasn’t coming as naturally, for me, as it has for so many years in the classroom. Things had changed (in our World experience), even if the mind and heart had not caught up with the enormity of this new world existence.
My son revealed this reality, to me, mid-week. During our reading time, my son even planted some imaginary friends, on the couch, to chit-chat with while "Ms. Porcupine" was attempting to read the literary story aloud. I have to admit, I admired his imagination and desire to test the teacher, even in our makeshift school classroom, the family room. He craved the community for which I did as well, but just keep moving forward with the delivery of instruction.
Something needed to be tweaked. I had to figure out how to build community in our day, community that felt real and not just wait for the Google Class Chat meeting held that week with his real classmates. The connection to community, that thing that came so naturally to me in my years teaching, had to find its way back to my son and me in our daily lessons for this type of schooling to work. We had to figure out, together, how to create community directly linked to instruction for the momentum to be authentic. If not, the learning all felt fragmented.
So, the first tweak I did was to take the Gym Class Virtual Workout link (sent to us) and changed it. What we realized instantly is that no matter how swanky the digital link was, we still were left feeling disengaged with the content. Jack kept rightly saying, to me, that this wasn’t Gym class. He knew it was phony. He said, “Mom, we play games in gym; this is a workout with stretches. We have teams, Mom. What is this”? Well, I thought to myself: This was no different than in a class lesson where grumbles were voiced, by the students, when a great idea went flat. I had to authenticate his experience by listening and responding, adjusting and integrating this learning experience to meet his need to feel connected.
The plan to reshape and connect the gym virtual workout with the community-building piece (with only a mother and son) is challenging. We are two people in isolation: I can’t call in the older or younger siblings to help the cause, and the digital chats with close friends are losing their excitement. I decided to look around the house and change the workout by adding one more element to the virtual 30-minute kids’ workout. The twist was to follow the instructions of the trainer online, by adding color coding to the different parts of the workout. I created a version of the Twister game on the basement floor. We laughed and laughed together when our arms could not reach the yellow spot, as the instructor chimed out and motioned, on the Vimeo, to shake your arms to the left and right. This is just one example of how to take ten more minutes, at night, as a newly shaped "parent-educator" to tweak the digital information being sent to us. Indeed, some of this digital learning is phenomenal I will admit and love to use as a support for education, but as I have known and led in teaching workshops before this Pandemic: It is in the implementation and connections that you make to the hearts of the students that bring the fabulous digital resources to life in the classroom. This same point is inherently true in the home as well. Listening to your children is as important, to me, as listening to my students was when they were excited, frustrated, tired, scared, feeling funny, etc. These emotions matter. I also learned something about myself this week. My emotions counted, too. I recognized that this was only week two, and I kept reading more and more in the news, each night, while Jack was playing video games or Face-timing his friends after the “school” day. The more this horrific news set in, I found myself truly scared and alone. Trying to fake a sense of enthusiasm, to my son, each day was really wearing on my nerves by Friday. So, he and I once more had a journal time specific to writing out our fears. I was honest, in my writing, letting him know that even moms or dads can feel scared, at times, when things are so uncertain and really tragic, and this allowed him to open up and express how much he missed having a “big breakfast” and that after quarantine, he would have eggs, bacon, and waffles for a week straight. I admired his honesty and cheered his voice onward, as he is a growing young man, and the stomach is of great concern. :) I also noted (internally) how my fears, each day, were getting in the way of my usual positive and detailed feedback that is very important to teaching, as well as for maintaining the learning cycle. Without constructive and excellent (specific) feedback, learning is just observing and modeling without sound transfer. Your kids need some of your time, throughout the day, to respond effectively to their learning, to their little selves (whether they are five years old or 16).
So, I am writing a letter to my son that I will read to him as a means for opening up the next instructional week, highlighting all of the special traits that make him Jack alongside the good memories of those traits. He is asked to do the same for one person special to him. We will include these in our “Great Outbreak” journals and start our instructional time in this way.
Below is the one I am going to share as a model (written earlier this year). I am posting the letter written in December to provide an example for parents or older siblings and educators who wish to try this at their homes, or within their school district virtual meetings with each other- as faculty who are trying to calm anxieties. It is so important to speak to one another and to recognize "out loud" the gifts we all bring to the communal table.
My hope is that love (genuine) can be exchanged, in a moment that transcends to the higher learning inherent in excellent teaching and parenting.
Example Letter (written for my son):
December 12, 2019
Dear Jack,
I was excited to hear you were chosen to experience “Angel-of-the-Week” this week and feel equally excited to share some of the qualities that make you special. There are three traits about my son, Jack that make him such a blessing in my life. So much so that I barely knew what life was like before he made me smile with great light and joy. Jack, you are special to our family just the way you are.
These are the gifts God has blessed you with that I get to see each day.
Funny & Innovative: Do you remember the time when I was packing a bunch of our things to prepare for our move? Jack, you were around five years old.
The kitchen was a galley kitchen. For those unfamiliar with the galley-style kitchen—what that means—is that it looks like a long hallway where there are two sides of the kitchen running down the hallway, counters on both sides. And, I was running around the house, picking up things and boxing things up, looking for the packing tape, and the next thing I knew I walked right through the clear tape, and it slung me backwards quickly, just enough to slow me down and look up at you holding the tape dispenser. You had decided it would be kinda cute on April Fool’s Day to attach the clear packing tape to both sides of the counter space, creating a line- that when walking through, it would push you backwards for a moment. The tape was clear, so I didn’t see that one coming. We must have laughed for ten minutes or so.
Independent & Forthright:
One time, Jack, I was really frustrated at the Grocery Store. It was busy, kind of like the stores around the holiday season, where the parking lot is full and almost every ingredient you need is out-of-stock.
You were in the cart, about two years old and had not had a nap. Cranky is an understatement, and the more I would try to hurry, the longer the trip to the store seemed to take until finally (in desperation mode) I grabbed a huge, chocolate lollipop off the shelf in the candy/snack isle and asked if you wanted this to have while I concentrated on getting the rest of the errands accomplished, you looked at me with a really funny stare, saying “nah, I don’t think so, Ma, I just want to go home.” The famous parent’s move of sharing a lollipop to pass the time didn’t work on you at two years old. I looked back at you and began laughing. We both laughed in the aisle and then just decided to call it one hectic day. We’d finish our errands another time, because some days are not worth fighting.
Tender-hearted & Loyal:
You care about the tiniest of all life forces, Jack. This is something God planted in your heart and will stay with you as you grow up. I love to watch you observe the butterflies and birds’ beaks in the springtime. You recognize the beauty in their delicate shapes. Sometimes, I even worry about you always putting others above yourself and helping friends in need. At times, it can be as important to stand up to protect yourself as much as it is to love others wholeheartedly.
Do you remember the time our good friends came to visit us in Traverse? When you and your friends walked two blocks ahead of us to the family movie night (Mary Poppins was playing on the lawn) during the Film Festival. I could hear you giggling through the yawns. You shared stories with your friends just because they asked, and you loved how it made them smile. I knew you were extremely sleepy (as were your friends), but it brought joy to all of you to pass the long walk home after the movie – sharing funny stories about the Michigan County Fair and the tilt-a-whirl. What a kind, young soul you are.
Thank you for being you, Jack. I can hardly wait to see these traits continue to take shape and bless us as your life unfolds.
With much love, Mom
Comments