January 5, 2026
Today I made up for all that relaxation from yesterday--finalizing grades, putting away (some) of Christmas, chores around the house, and generally getting ready to head back to school tomorrow. Am I ready? Not really. But I will be happy to see my friends and my students again after this break. Semester Two, here we come!
January 22, 2022
I gave my students several prompts to choose from to write some literacy narratives: stories about the way in which people, moments, or events helped shape their sense of themselves as readers and writers. I thought I'd write to a couple of the prompts along with them.
When I was in sixth grade, we had a competition for reading in my class. My district was very competition-driven. My teacher, who was a hiking fanatic, had a giant butcher paper, snow-capped mountain covering the wall behind his desk, and each student was represented by a tiny push pin with our names affixed like tiny banners. We had a goal of a certain number of books to read by the end of the semester, and each week our little push pins would journey farther up the mountain in increments that correlated to the numbers of books we had read. The first person to meet their reading goal would summit the mountain and earn a prize.
The prize was one I can’t imagine being awarded in this day and age, but seemed perfectly reasonable then. Our teacher would take the winner out for dinner and a movie in the theater. The movie would be of our choosing. As I said, our school was very competitive, and in particular there was a boy named Derek Woolverton in my class with whom I had the fiercest–although friendly–competition. We were both in the top reading group, and each of us was determined to summit the mountain first. We read voraciously through the semester and maintained a neck-and-neck race all throughout. There was another student who joined us at the top of the pack, and ultimately, the three of us summited in the same week. There was a three-way tie for first place. Our teacher decided it was only fair that all three of us would share the prize.
We debated about the movie we would get to see. Derek was loudly advocating for Star Wars. I was not much interested. I wanted to see Ice Castles, a love story about a competitive skater who overcomes tragedy with the help of her dedicated boyfriend. I was able to sway our other competitor to my side, and Ice Castles won. I am sure that our teacher would probably rather have seen Star Wars, but he allowed us to diplomatically decide among the three of us, rather than weighing in himself.
I don’t remember where we went to dinner that night, but getting to go out in the evening to a movie theater with my teacher and two classmates was a true reward. Going to the theater at all was a rare treat back then. We felt like classroom celebrities–kind of a big deal when you are only ten years old. Once there, we got a big bucket of popcorn to share and allowed ourselves to be enveloped by the darkness of the theater. The music swelled, and the film came to life. We were entranced–even Derek, who was won over by the experience and didn’t hold it against us that he wasn’t sitting in the theater watching Star Wars.
It was the days before the internet, and Nextflix, and the likes of HBO. When we did watch films or television shows, it was almost always on the small screen on one of the three channels available to us at the time. A real, larger-than-life movie was a novelty, and although I was engrossed in the film and it made me cry in all the places it was designed to tug at my heartstrings (yes, even back then I was an emotional and sentimental girl), one of the things that I can distinctly remember was that there was so much swearing. It was a rated PG movie, but it was a 1970s PG, which meant PG encompassed a whole lot more language, nudity, and violence than the films of today. This was even before the PG-13 designation came along, so the net was even wider for films that fell into this PG category. I can remember clearly that it was almost as though there were two sides of myself watching–the one absolutely enjoying the storyline and the whole experience I had earned, and the other side that was very definitely worried that our teacher would get in trouble for bringing three young, impressionable kids to this movie. My own parents didn’t swear at home, and this movie was probably the most swearing I had ever heard in a concentrated two hour block. Although I wasn’t offended by it, I thought perhaps if my parents knew, they would get angry.
Ultimately, when I got dropped off at home and my mom asked me if I had enjoyed the evening, I told her all about it–sans the swearing. She smiled and told me she was glad I had had a good time, and that she was proud of me for earning the reward, and then she sent me to bed. It was late, and there was school in the morning. The movie and the experience remained a treasured memory for me for a very long time, and the film remained one of my favorites for several years. I had already been a dedicated reader by the time that competition came along, but being celebrated for it even further cemented my life-long love for it.
January 6, 2022
We've been going on for months and months now with some pretty significant, systemic adjustments in the social and financial structures due to Covid-19. Some of those have been detrimental in a variety of ways of course, and certainly there are some long term effects we haven't seen yet. I can't help but think, though, that if we have managed to make it this many months making sure every school child has breakfast and lunch for free, and allowing college students (and graduated college students) to move through their lives without having to worry about the crippling monthly debt payments of student loans without having had the whole of society collapse in on itself, then perhaps it is, in fact, doable. Sustainable. Perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad idea to continue to prioritize, as a society, making sure children don't go hungry and making sure our young adults don't start out in life already so far in the hole that it becomes a debilitaing weight.
January 5, 2022
Today in class we took time to connect and reset our focus for the year. As part of our reconnecting, we make concrete goals for the semester, whether those be personal, physical, academic, spiritual, or relational. I teach them some tools for making those goals attainable, and we talk about giving ourselves grace when we don't reach a goal.
In talking about giving ourselves grace, I also talk about turning that grace to others. We do a little exercise in empathy and reminding ourselves that we are not alone in our stresses, and that everyone is walking around with a lot of stuff running around in our minds behind the scenes that we might not ever guess. I ask them to anonymously complete two sentences: I Hope.... and I Worry About/I Worry That..., and then I read them out loud. Here are some of the things my kids wrote today:
I Hope...
I will choose the right college for me.
my grandmother will get better.
I make my parents proud.
my sister's business will be a success.
I find someone who loves me.
my anxiety won't stand in the way of me finding happiness.
I will stay in touch with my friends when we all move away to college.
I Worry...
that people don't really like me and they are just tolerating me.
that I will disappoint my parents.
that my grandmother won't make it to my graduation.
that Covid won't go away anytime soon.
that I will make the wrong career decision and will be unhappy in life.
that my father's choices around smoking and drinking will take him from us too soon.
that I won't find someone who loves me.
that the transition to college will be too hard for me.
that I won't be able to handle the financial burden of college.
These are just a handful of them, but many of them echoed similar sentiments. I always have students write a reflection after they hear these, and nearly every student, every year, says they had no idea how many of their classmates were dealing with the same anxieties that they do. It's comforting to recognize that they aren't alone. It's comforting to remember that we are all human, and everyone has a lot going on behind the scenes that we may never have the privilege of knowing. We don't have to know exactly what a person's worries or fears are to extend grace and empathy; we just have to remember that those things are there, unspoken and unseen. If we operate as if everyone has those unseen struggles, we are able to much more easily give people the benefit of the doubt. We are able to connect better as humans. I think it is always a good thing to remind ourselves of this.
April 9, 2021
A couple of days ago, I was accused-not for the first time this school year- of being selfish and of not caring for the students I teach. It's a hurtful accusation, and couldn't be further from the truth. Anyone who knows me knows I love my kids, and I love my job and my school dearly. I want to see my students grow and thrive. I worry about them when I know they are struggling. And we've all been struggling this year. It's been a tough one. I have spent hundreds of hours transferring lessons and activities into digital files, planning and creating new content to address the very real social and emotional struggles my students have been dealing with this year, learning new digital platforms, zooming during class hours and during tutoring and parent meetings, grading online until my eyes burned, and answering emails at all hours of the day and night. I am exhausted, and have much worse vision than I did at the start of this pandemic. Why? Because I do care about them-- and I want them to know it, without a doubt.
So why have I been accused of not caring about my students? Well, as best as I can tell, the reason is two-fold. The first is that last summer and fall, as the pandemic was growing out of control and there was no vaccine in sight, I advocated for following CDC, state, and local guidelines for the shutdown of schools. (Shutdown of schools, by the way, is a misnomer; the buildings were closed, but the business of school was very much alive and well in our district.) As a cancer survivor and the sole caretaker of my 92-year-old grandmother, I didn't think it unreasonable that I should be able to take all the safety precautions recommended by doctors and scientists. The second reason for the accusation is my involvement with and support for a teachers' union in our district. The perception of some is that if I am advocating for a union, it is because I am only interested in putting my own needs in front of those of my students. However, the needs of students and the needs of teachers are not mutually exclusive; they are both important factors that foster an effective and robust learning environment.
I have been a high school teacher in my district for 30 years. The primary purpose of our vocation is to model and foster critical thinking skills. I want my students to be critical consumers of information in all its forms in order to better inform themselves, solidify their own understanding of the values in which they believe, and situate themselves in positions to not only be self-advocates, but to be advocates for others who might not have a voice in the conversation. How strange, then, to think that there are those who feel putting myself and fellow educators in positions to have a voice is somehow considered selfish.
Our district prides itself on promoting a growth mindset and celebrates a life-long learner. As our district has continued to grow and evolve, our core values have remained constant, and that's important to me. What has evolved, however, is the way in which we seek to achieve and maintain those core values. As a life-long learner, I have continued to seek knowledge about both my profession and my district. As someone who values a growth mindset, I have seen a need for change in the conversations in our district. We have a body that has been an informational conduit for teachers' voices, but is no longer able to be an effective part of the decision-making process. I respect and appreciate the work that these teachers have done on behalf of the teachers they represent, but the time has come for teachers' voices to be part of the team of decision-makers, rather than a voice that is easily pushed aside when deemed inconsequential by those who actually make the decisions. I don't advocate for this voice because I am angry or because I don't like the school or district in which I work. I enjoy positive relationships with the administration at my site, as well as many educators in the upper administration in my district. I don't seek a voice in order to be adversarial; I seek a voice through the union because by nature I am collaborative, and I feel the best way to make important decisions is by collaborating with everyone who should be part of the conversation--not just sometimes, and not just when it's easy--all the time.
Change is hard. It can be scary, especially because there are a lot of unknowns. If nothing else, this year of the pandemic has taught us that. There are people who fear that an outside entity coming in (CTA) will make us change our values and abandon our dedication to the children of this district. This union is US--teachers who work in our district, care about our students here in Clovis, know and love the values of this district. We, the teachers and educators in our district, would be the ones making decisions about what priorities we want to advocate for to support our students and our educators. There are some who think teachers will want to advocate for staying online. Now that the vaccine has become available and infection numbers are low, I can't imagine that most teachers in the district would want to advocate for that because we LOVE to see our kids in our classrooms, face-to-face. It's why we went into the educational field; it's why we stay here. I have many conservative friends who worry that their union dues will go to support political candidates or issues they don't support. I absolutely respect that--I don't want my dollars going to support something in which I don't believe either. You are able to opt out of those political contributions. There are those who worry that a teachers' union seeks to be the ONLY voice in the conversation--at the expense of students, parents, and even administration. We don't want to be THE voice; we want to be one of the voices.
We are in the classroom, day after day, and can see firsthand how a particular program or curriculum might benefit our students. We can see how much more often we can engage with and support our students in a classroom with a manageable number of students. We can advocate for additional systems that can help support our students' academic growth and emotional well-being. And yes, we can even advocate for a more comparable salary schedule to compete with similar or nearby districts. It's important to have people in the decision-making process who see the big picture--the needs of the district as a whole. But having people who are in the individual classrooms working with our kids Monday-Friday also share what our kids need on the ground level is vitally important to continued growth and change in this district. It's an important balance.
I know not everyone supports a union in this district. There are differing opinions as to how to go about achieving and maintaining excellence. That's okay. I recognize that those who are advocating for something different are advocating out of the same love for the kids that I have. I would never disparage the character of someone who believes, with good intent, that a different path for our district is a more beneficial one. We just have different ideas about how to go about supporting our kids, our teachers, and our schools. All I ask, at the end of the day, is that you learn about the options with an open mind, recognize the perspective of all those involved even if you don't agree with them, and try not to assume negative intentions. We are all here for our kids.
January 3, 2021
Nearly ten months ago, our school shuttered its doors in the wake of the beginnings of the global pandemic that has gripped the world since. California was aggressive early on in attempting to get things under control, and for awhile it did, in fact, seem as if we had 'flattened the curve'. As weeks dragged into months, and people began to suffer ill effects of the shut down--stress, anxiety, financial burden--most of us wanted nothing more than to 'get back to normal'. The thing is, much as we would like to just decide to make things the way they were before, we're not actually in control of that. Although for a time it seemed like we were starting to gain the upper hand, the holidays rolled around, and many people, starved for human connection and family togetherness and traditions, decided to risk the spread of Covid. After all, there were still lots of people who proclaimed proudly that they didn't even know anyone who knew anyone who had gotten Covid. Theories abounded about whether or not it actually existed, or if it was simply another flu, nothing to worry about. What harm could it do? And then numbers started to spike again, and our hospital ICUs were stretched unimaginably thin.
Most schools, whether elementary, secondary, or post-secondary, have made the decision to remain online until the end of this school year. There's just such a big risk of sending everyone back all at once, and certainly the possibility of having to shut down again when outbreaks occur undermines stability and consistency. Our district, however, has determined that our students will be back this semester, despite the positivity rate being higher than it was when we shut down, higher than it was at the beginning of the school year. And honestly, I understand that many parents are frustrated, and some teachers are too. I mean, we got into education because we love working with our kids and developing the kinds of connections that we can make working day after day, face-to-face. Education via zoom is different, and it doesn't work for everyone, not to mention it's been a fast and furious learning curve for all involved. There are kids who are struggling. (Of course, in-person doesn't work for everyone either, but since that's the traditional educational system, we want to push those kids back into a system that doesn't work for them because that's the way school is 'supposed' to be.)
So here we are--here I am--getting ready to walk back into the building where I have worked for the past 30 years, but have only stepped foot in perhaps 5 times in the past ten months. Because I am a cancer survivor, and because I am the sole caretaker for my 92-year-old grandmother, I am one of a great many teachers who were granted permission to conduct our zoom classes from home this school year. That ends tomorrow. The return of our students has been delayed for two weeks due to a recommendation from the County Health Office, but all of us who had a remote work agreement must report to the building to teach second semester. This has given me anxiety not just for me and my family, but for all the healthcare workers who are already exhausted and overworked, and for whom another spike will only mean an even greater strain on them. Voicing my concern has caused people to call me selfish, to say I don't care about my students, or even to say I just feel like 'not working' while continuing to get paid. I have had people tell me that because I worry about the ramifications of sending everyone back to school, that that somehow means I have no concern for those who have jobs where they are required to continue to work in the face-to-face world throughout this pandemic. All of those accusations are absolutely untrue. It's sad that our world has become so divisive that everything comes down to an either/or, us-versus-them proposition. I can care about my health, my colleagues' health, my community, and my students all simultaneously. (I'm great at multi-tasking like that.)
So tomorrow is the day. I'll head into my classroom, keep my head low (difficult for a social butterfly like me), keep my distance, and keep my mask on. When the kids come back in two weeks, I hope there are enough safety measures in place to keep us all healthy. So far the biggest argument in bringing kids back to campus is that 'kids aren't spreading the virus'. I can't help but wonder if that's because, you know, the kids haven't been in school to spread it to each other (or to their teachers, or older family members). Time will tell. Wish me luck. All of us- your teacher friends, classified staff, and the students--could use your well-wishes.
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