Considering the Social and Emotional Well-Being of all of Our Students

 April 23, 2021

The emotional impact of online learning has been a concern for a great many parents and educators in this past year.  As we have been in various forms of lockdown, including the closure of many school buildings for months on end, some of our students have sunk into depression, anxiety, and lack of motivation to sit in front of screens to complete their work in this most abnormal of situations.  These are very real concerns; some of our students have been hit incredibly hard by the uncertainty of the circumstances in which we find ourselves, and the loss of connections with friends who would typically have been lifelines during a regular crisis.  This, however, was no ordinary crisis. Our pandemic simultaneously created one of the biggest challenges in students' lives and cut off the social system of support by which navigating this crisis might have been made more manageable.  We all know that our friends and families help buoy us and bring joy and comfort when things are difficult--and yet students, like the rest of us--could only see their friends through the little screens on their phones, which is a poor substitute for a well-timed hug or just the joy of hanging out together, communing in band or choir or robotics or football or any number of other activities that join like-minded spirits.  There is no underestimating the impact of the social nature of school as a balance for the work at hand.  (In this regard, adults are not so different.  If we are truly fortunate, we have friends with whom we work who make our days brighter and well, more fun as we take on some of the more mundane and monotonous aspects of our jobs.)  To state the obvious, being with friends makes life better.

So it's no surprise that parents were loudly and angrily advocating for bringing their kids back on campus.  "Open up the schools! Our children are suffering!"  And they had a point.  Many children were suffering, and as parents we desperately want to help make things right for our babies.  In a world where Covid-19 was raging out of control, and businesses were being shut down, and normalcy was on hold, parents sought to move the needle on at least one thing that might make them feel like they had some control in a world where control was spiraling mostly out of reach--putting pressure on school boards to open up the school buildings and let the kids and the teachers back in.  As is often the case where people feel like there is a lack of control, there was often misplaced hostility and anger.  There were teachers who felt that with skyrocketing infection rates, we should not be so hasty to move back into the buildings.  Those teachers were met with accusations of laziness and apathy toward their beloved students.  Teachers didn't create the virus or the mandates that the school buildings shut down, and every teacher I know desperately wanted to see their kids.  However, many teachers didn't think they should have to assume the risk of coming down with the virus--or worse yet infecting their own children or parents--when our health officials were pleading with everyone to stay home to mitigate the spread.  Still, there were those who believed that it was our responsibility to take on that risk.  One parent at a local board meeting said, "I know teachers will get sick.  That's a risk I'm willing to take.  Open up the schools!"  He said he was willing to take the risk of me getting sick.  How is that a risk for him?

Yes, I agree that the pandemic has been mentally and emotionally difficult on a great number of people, our students included.  However, it is a bit of a misstep to say that it created a mental health crisis among our youth.  We already had alarming suicide rates and issues of self-harm.  We already had huge numbers of students who dealt with anxiety and depression and bullying and negative self-image and abuse.  What was different?  Being at home and away from a social support system was new and jarring to many of our students, who had been thriving in the traditional system, so their depression and anxiety was new to them--and their parents.  Some kids who had always done well in school were suddenly not keeping up in classes and were suffering mentally, and that was understandably frightening for parents.  On the other hand, we had many kids who were thriving in the online format precisely because they didn't have to deal with the daily bullying or constant reminders that they lacked a social circle and support system.  They were thriving because they didn't have to deal with the sometimes paralyzing anxiety of being in a classroom with people they felt didn't like them or know them or even see them, because they felt like they didn't belong.  Some of those kids could actually relax and focus on the learning in front of them, because the daily social anxieties were no longer a distraction.  We have always had a mental health crisis in our schools.  The difference with the pandemic was that it was different kids who were struggling, and some of those parents saw it first hand in their own homes for the first time this year.

As we have slowly moved back into opening up the buildings and bringing students back on campus, I think it's important to step back and look at the big picture.  We have an opportunity here to really make some important changes to an antiquated system--one that assumes a one-size-fits-all approach is workable and effective.  There have been so many who are pushing hard to go back to normal as soon (or sooner) as possible for the students who have struggled without the structure and security they've always known in their educational experiences.  But just like online learning didn't meet the social and emotional needs of all of our students, neither does the old system of school fit everyone's needs.  Why, then, are we so eager to push everyone back into the old model?  Why are we not looking forward, instead of backward? And yes, we do have structures in place for non-traditional learners and needs, but up until now--and moving forward again if we don't address it--those structures for the 'others' have been marginalized, looked down upon, and deemed only a last resort for the outcast.  It's time to celebrate and explore a variety of paths as important and viable educational options. We can and should create real opportunities to offer well-supported avenues of true educational experiences that meet the needs of all of our kids without making them feel 'less than' if they don't fit into the model that was devised to meet the needs of 17th century America. We live in an ever-changing, digitally connected world.  Our children's learning within four walls of a classroom at a prescribed time each weekday shouldn't be the 'correct' way to conduct our school; it should be only one way, and it certainly shouldn't be privileged over other ways to engage and connect simply because it's the system that looks familiar and is comfortable for the adults with the decision-making power.   

Why Start a Union?

 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.

Graduation Time

June 6, 2018

Well, my friends—it’s almost time.  The night where you get to celebrate all that you have achieved is just around the corner.  I am so proud of your accomplishments—some of you have worked very, very hard to make it to this night and have overcome personal, emotional, and academic hardships to earn that little piece of paper that can open up new avenues and opportunities for you.  Well done! You’ve made it!

              Graduation can be an emotional night.  Some of you might be a little nostalgic and sad about losing the comfort and familiarity of home, school, and family as you head off on to new adventures.  Some of you will be relieved that you actually made it.  Some of you may feel elation that you are done with the rules and dress code of high school.  (I’ll leave you to the fantasy that there are no rules you have to follow once you leave high school and your parents’ homes, at least for awhile.  You’ll find out the truth soon enough.)  Some of you might even feel anxious or nervous about what the future holds.  Most of you will feel proud of yourselves.  All of these emotions are real, valid, and totally normal.  Just know that while you are feeling all of these things, your parents are, too. Whether you are the first one in the family graduating, the middle child, or the baby of the family, please recognize that this is a milestone for your mamas and your daddies, too. They are thrilled, stressed, nostalgic, anxious, and hopeful, just like you are.  So when Dad wants to talk to you for the 30^th time about how to be safe when you’re away at college, don’t just sigh and say, “I KNOW!”  He’s not just telling you he wants you to be safe; he’s telling you he loves you.  Let him.  When your mom wants you to smile for just one more picture (or 20), do it for her.  Do it with gratitude, and not eye-rolling, because when she says, “Say cheese!” she’s actually saying, “I am going to miss these times, these moments with you.”  Let her know that you hear what she’s saying, even when she’s not saying it.  Let her know you’ll miss those moments too.  This moment in time is yours, but it’s also theirs.  Share it and enjoy it together.

              So here you are, on the verge of your new adventure, with your family and friends surrounding you and cheering you on.  Some of these people you’ll be sitting in the stands with, you might remain friends with for the rest of your life.  Some of them you might see now and again, but you’ll eventually drift apart.  And for some of them, graduation night might be the last time you ever see them.  High school is like that, just like the rest of your life.  People will come in and out of your life, some only briefly, and some for long and enduring stretches of your journey.  Regardless, each person has an impact on those they encounter.  Be thankful for the mark your classmates have had on you; hope that you have been a blessing to those you have touched.  It’s really the most important life lesson, at the end of the day—one that isn’t found in a textbook or on a test.  Be a blessing to the people you encounter, whether it be for a day or for a lifetime.  Your life’s mission is to find the best way for you to do that.

              And speaking of life’s mission, you all have one.  I don’t know what your mission is, and maybe you don’t yet either.  That’s okay.  Just look for it.  Be mindful of it.  Find your passion and follow it—that’s a great place to start looking.  And when you do find your mission, make it your life’s work to meet it head on, with intention and care.  Seek positive mentors.  Be a positive mentor to those who follow behind you.  Look for ways to leave your world and the people you encounter better than they were when you first arrived.  Let that be your legacy and your mark.  Will you make mistakes and wrong turns?  Of course you will!  Will you learn and grow from them?  That, my friends, is entirely up to you.  I certainly hope so.  Mistakes do not define success; reaction to mistakes does.  How will you respond?

              So here I am, reflecting on the mark you have already made on me, as I think about all the ways you will move out into the rest of your tomorrows.  Know that all of you, from the most gregarious to the most introverted, have made my year a special one.  I always marvel that I have future businessmen, politicians, amazing stay-at-home moms and dads, teachers, mechanics, engineers, pastors, musicians, and farmers among my students.  It’s a privilege to get to teach students who will grow up and be the decision-makers of the future.  It’s the reason I keep teaching. YOU are the reason I keep teaching.  So thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for another wonderful year.  I can’t wait to see what the future holds for you.  Good luck, much love, and best wishes on all your future endeavors.

                                                                                                                   Mama Lutjens

On the Impending Retirement of One of My Teachers

February 23, 2017

This year, my high school drill and dance teacher will be retiring after devoting years to Clovis High and her students. She was an incredible influence in my life, and I was thrilled to hear that one of her colleagues is putting together a tribute to her, collecting memories from her dancers to share with her at her retirement celebration.  I thought I'd share here what I'll be sending in.

Hi Mik,

As you are heading into retirement, I wanted to take a moment to share with you the impact you had on me as a young kid, which is perhaps more than you could ever know.  

When I started Clovis High, I was not just new to the school; I was new to the district.  I didn’t know a soul.  For a shy, terrified kid afraid of her own shadow, this was nearly insurmountable. My mom had left my dad, and our home life was difficult and unstable as my mom tried to find her footing suddenly as a single mom with five children in tow.  In my old district, I was a twirler on the baton team, but as Clovis High had only a solo twirler, already selected, my mom pushed to get me on the drill team, well after tryouts had occurred in the spring.  I didn’t even know what a drill team was, but mom knew I needed something to be involved in, or I was likely to fade into invisibility in the vast, overwhelming world of high school.  She knew I needed stability, routine, a sense of belonging somehow.  You probably don’t even know that when my mom dropped me off on that very first day of band camp, I wandered around campus for literally an hour before I worked up the courage to enter the cafeteria, where over 100 girls, every one a stranger to me, were working out and warming up.  The only thing that got me in the door on that first day was that the fear of telling my mother that I hadn’t been able to walk in the door was slightly greater than my fear of all of those unfamiliar eyes looking at me, wondering why I was in their space.  I didn’t think I belonged.  I didn’t think anyone would think I belonged.

Eventually I did go in, and found you, as instructed.  Without hesitation, you smiled and took me in, and introduced me to some of the other freshmen and some of the senior leaders as well.  Band camp week was intensive, difficult, and incredibly rewarding, and I found that I loved being a part of the team.  I also started school that year with friends I wouldn’t have met unless I had been thrust into the family of band in the few weeks before the first school bell rang.  That introduction was life-saving—life-changing.  I found myself part of an incredible group of talented, fun, energetic, and devoted group of people would become my second family.  Anyone who was a part of band, especially in the 1980s, can attest to the unbelievable numbers of hours we all spent together, week in and week out, on the field, in the gyms, traveling on buses, sleeping on gym floors on weekend band review trips.  You helped make that family happen for me. 

 

Not only did I gain a family and a sense of social inclusion at a particularly important time in my life, but you, and the drill and dance program itself, are the most singular influence on helping to develop my sense of self and confidence in myself.  I remember at the end of my sophomore year, we had auditions for the leadership of the team.  I had never seen myself as a leader; I was a follower, and a darn good one at that.  However, I remember sitting down with you and you encouraging me to consider auditioning for a leadership role.  I don’t remember your words; what I remember is somehow seeing myself through your eyes, hearing that you thought of me as having that kind of potential.  It genuinely opened up new possibilities for me—pushed me to see myself in new ways.  It was one of those moments in time that serves as a catalyst, inspiring real change.  I still had trepidation, but decided that if you could see me as a leader, I could try to live up to what you saw.  I closed my eyes and dove in, working to silence my insecurities.  You placed faith in me, and I found myself the Parade Section Leader my junior year.  It was challenging to lead a group of fifty girls, but I found that my peers respected me and listened to me, and I was a good at diplomacy and working cooperatively with instructors and dance members alike to help bring success to our performances.  I realized that I really enjoyed it, and was made a Co-Captain my senior year, a year that capped off four years of incredible experiences in high school, led predominantly by you.

High school is a formative time for young people, and you came into my life—or rather, I was thrust into yours—when I dearly needed it.  Your talent, leadership, love, and guidance shaped me, and so, so many others, in ways big and small throughout the years.  Your devotion to your girls was abundantly evident in everything you put into our team.  You taught us dance, choreography, musicality, teamwork.  You pushed our physical abilities beyond what we thought we were capable of.  Even more importantly, you taught us to look inside ourselves and grow in strength, commitment, and confidence.  Without you, I’m not sure I would have learned to see myself as a leader.  In my professional career, I have taken on many leadership positions—I relish them, enjoy having a voice, and being a support and advocate for others.  That all began with you—the day you looked at me and saw what I could not see.  For that, I am ever, ever grateful.

My story is just one of literally thousands.  As you move on to this next chapter of your life, I pray that you know just a fraction of the amount of joy and love and confidence you have imparted to your drill and dance team members, as well as your Dance Rep kids.  You have been an inspiration and a guiding light.  I thank you.  We thank you.  We love you and wish you well.

Love,

Donna Mayes Lutjens