Tuesday SOL: What if we talk about race?

I am participating in the
Tuesday Slice of Life.
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity

for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

What happens when teachers talk about race with one another?

courage
respect
dialogue
grief
honesty
empathy
fear
tension and uncertainty
questions
a feeling of being ill-equipped
listening
patience
time and space
messiness
stamina
gentleness
love

An outpouring of so many feelings,
all at once.

Finding yourself in a mixed-up intersection of
what you know,
what you think you know,
what your gut says,
what you are ignorant about,
what your family taught you,
what you want to believe,
what you are surprised by,
what you need to learn,
what you hope for,
what you imagine.

Talking about race with my colleagues reminds me of the children's song "Going on a Bear Hunt" -

You can't go over it
You can't go under it
You can't go around it
Oh no
You have to go through it.

Looks like we have to go through it.

Tuesday SOL: Why does it have to be like this?

I am participating in the
Tuesday Slice of Life.
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity

for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

We're entering into the tough part of the school year, that time period in the very middle of the year, when so much fatigue has set in. There is so much to do and there simply isn't enough time to get all that needs doing done. I call out a "good morning" to colleagues first thing every day, but we are quick and perfunctory with one another; there is little opportunity to collaborate or share because everyone is so busy with their own never-ending list of must do's.

We had professional development this past week, and I wanted desperately to be working in my own classroom, getting work done. I work alongside a novice teacher, and as she begins to lead more, taking over more of the daily responsibilities, my need for time to meet, plan, review, discuss, and reflect grows exponentially. A short while into the workshop, I had that uncomfortable sensation of not being fully present; I was in two places at once. I challenged myself to listen. I am, typically, a "good student" - usually very much on-task.

Would you believe me if I told you that the speaker was engaging?

As a general rule, I love workshops, I love learning new approaches, hearing about the latest research. However, this just wasn't something I personally would have signed up to do with my time right then, because I am struggling to complete so many other things...I have other priorities. These priorities don't go away or even lessen as a result of this professional development.

I decided to step back and observe a bit, to give the situation a writer's eye. I looked around the room at my colleagues and took notes on what I saw:

- One, furtively scanning her phone, with a furrowed brow, looking tense, worried, or tired, or perhaps all three...

- Another, totally checked out...what I must have looked like just a moment before...eyes glazed, face tilted down, a mile away in his thoughts.

- Two colleagues were whispering together, very, very quietly...probably not about the lecture, right?

- Still another, typing madly on her computer, in the midst of the lecture, clearly not engaging with the material of the professional development, but in all probability getting something done on her to-do list.
- Several colleagues that I had seen earlier in the day were not even in the room...early departure? Doctor's appointments? 

- There's another colleague, feet drumming on the floor, fingers tapping on the table, is she listening to music? I can't see any evidence of earphones...maybe it's one of those wireless sets...hmmm.

Why does professional development have to be like this?
What is it about these sessions that makes them feel so tone deaf much of the time? 

How can so many of us be this detached from the lecture? 

If this were a classroom, wouldn't the teacher realize that the students were off-task and something is not working right?
Why are we learning about this right now?

There is always so much put on teachers, and increasingly little wiggle room or flexibility to think for oneself.

Tuesday SOL: Why should I care about Black Lives Matter?

I am participating in the
Tuesday Slice of Life.
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity

for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

I've been busy working on something very exciting and thought I should share it here, in this space, and - just maybe - I'll excite another teacher to join the fun. The week of February 5-9, 2018, I am participating in the Black Lives Matter Week of Action: 

The goal of the Black Lives Matter Week of Action in Schools is to spark an ongoing movement of critical reflection and honest conversations in school communities for people of all ages to engage with critical issues of social justice. It is our duty as educators and community members to civically engage students and build their empathy, collaboration, and agency so they are able to thrive. Students must learn to examine, address, and grapple with issues of racism and discrimination that persist in their lives and communities.

Why should I, a white teacher, participate in and celebrate Black Lives Matter in my preschool classroom? It's very simple, really:

I want to give preschoolers a foundation of love and respect for all.

I want them to learn to listen and wonder about other perspectives.

I want them to believe in their personal power and purpose. 

I want my preschoolers to imagine a world without the distortion of systemic racism.

I want to do right by my students of color.

I believe in social justice.

I believe in teaching empathy.
I believe each of us is fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:14) - yes, each and every child, without exception.

I believe I can make positive change in our world. 

I care. 

I must act.
I am a teacher.


Our nation is so troubled. It feels to me like people of color are under attack. Can my students of color anticipate a life of true equality? A world where they will be treated fairly? I have to start somewhere. Black Lives Matter feels like an important step to take.

I have been hard at work on lesson plans for the week, ways to integrate anti-bias, empathy, and perspective-taking in my preschool classroom. Honestly, I already think a lot about this in my work with young children. It is not a huge paradigm shift for me. I'm focusing on read-alouds that celebrate Black families, Black communities, Black culture, Black excellence, and Black authors - thankfully these are really easy to find. I will surround us with Black music. We will explore the color Black in our art. We will talk about how to help one another feel welcome, how to show kindness, what is fairness.These are simple, ordinary, intentional steps in any preschool classroom and I believe they will also bear witness to Black Lives Matter.

I've said this before: childhood lays the blueprint for the rest of our lives...it creates our 'norm', what is ordinary for us. What if anti-bias was the norm? What if equity was ubiquitous? What if skin color was irrelevant? 

I can dream. I can act. I can start.

I am excited.

Tuesday SOL: What's the plan today?

I am participating in the
Tuesday Slice of Life.
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity

for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

Last Wednesday was my first day back at school after our winter break. My sleep, the night before, was broken - as expected. I always have 'jitters' before returning to school after long breaks, feeling excited, unsettled, unknowing. Although it no longer surprises me, I continue to wonder why it happens. I mean, I know these children, my teaching team, the building, the day...why so unsettled? Ah, well.

We had a great first day back, everyone excited to be back together...and woke up to a snow day on our supposed second day back! What?! This was a gift of a day, not unlike being presented with delicious chocolates after having just devoured a homemade brownie. It's wonderful, delightful, amazing - and yet, seriously, did we really need it? (Of course, snow days aren't given to those who need a day off, but to areas that are having winter weather.)

So then we had school on Friday, which ended up feeling like a second "first day back." Somehow, Friday felt even more festive and exciting than Wednesday...everyone was in great moods and the day flew by. Then it was the weekend! Wouldn't this be a fun pattern for teaching - one day on, next day off? 

This week has started off in a similarly wonky pattern, with school being dismissed promptly at end of day yesterday, with no after school activities or even our regular Monday staff meeting, due to wintry weather. I furtively searched for a two hour delay this morning...but not to be. I slogged into work, after working on my car for fifteen minutes as I scraped ice off the windshield. Everyone on the road was driving so very slowly, wary of black ice, (in retrospect, this was a good thing) and I arrived just in time to make my breakfast duty. The rest of the day was fast-paced and full, taking me in so many different directions...perhaps I'll share more another day.

Up, down, back, forth, yes, no, on, off, hurry, wait, stop, go, do, don't, this is the start of 2018.

Tuesday SOL: Where do you find grace?

I am participating in the
Tuesday Slice of Life.
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity

for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

It was your typical hectic mid-day...the infamous 'lunch to nap transition' in the preschool classroom: tables needing to be cleared of trash and wiped down, cots being carried to their special napping spots, several preschoolers lingering over their last vestiges of lunch, postponing the inevitable, others are in the bathroom, last stop before sleep, and a random few more are idle, restless, waiting to land on their cots...lots of moving parts, varied noises, and everyone at different stages of readiness for that impending darkened, quiet room of sleepers.

John, my wily friend, my boundary tester, cannot simply sit back and wait, he must jump from cot to cot. I call out, "John, your cot is down, you may sit on it with a book while you wait for others to be ready for nap." He heads that way, but sees another cot to jump on. Me, again, this time more succinctly - "John, your cot!" He continues dancing on the cot and begins to sing, 

I've got peace like a river,

I've got peace like a river,

Just as I start to chastise him again for his continued jumping, up walks Annie, who always does the right thing and can often be found observing the antics of others with quiet fascination. (I've often wondered what tales she shares with her family about her day in the Big Cats.) I swallow my next reprimand and simply watch Annie with John, to see what she might do or say with him. Annie doesn't typically confront others; she's not a tattler or a meddler or 'the righteous one' or any of these other roles that children might fall into when learning to be with others. She's a happy young friend who enjoys following our routine and, to date, has found no reason not to do so. 

I wonder, is Annie going to reinforce the rules with John?

Annie walks right up to John and says, "we gotta do hand motions" (well, it sounded more like "hanmossa") and then she sits down on the cot...he stops his wild dancing and sits down next to her, with a bright "Okay!" and they begin the song again, adding hands motions to the words...

I've got peace like a river,

I've got peace like a river,

I've got peace like a river,

in my soooouuuuul!

These two sweet beings, so different from one another - one always testing boundaries and one always sticking to them...there they were sitting together on a third child's napping cot, in the midst of mid-day mayhem, singing a folk song...how to describe the unexpected preciousness of this moment? John is beaming at her, so delighted to have her friendship in this moment, and Annie is equally delighted in him. They are happy companions. And, look - there is no more wild jumping or running...there's no more reprimanding voice of a teacher...Annie has made magic happen, changing the frenetic, haphazard tone of the classroom into one of charmed togetherness.

Classmates wandered over and began to sing with them. After one moment of surprise, when I simply smiled at the scene, I easily finished my chore of putting down all the cots, while the children sang.

This is my goal for the new year - to notice these moments of grace all around me. In the preschool classroom, they are bounteous.

I've got peace like a river,

I've got peace like a river,

I've got peace like a river,

in my soul.

I've got joy like a fountain

I've got joy like a fountain

I've got joy like a fountain

in my soul.

I've got love like an ocean

I've got love like an ocean

I've got love like an ocean

in my soul.

Happy New Year, everyone!