The Absence of COVID-19

The Washington State Department of Health issued guidelines for the 2021-2022 school year in regard to how schools may best mitigate the spread of COVID-19 in their facilities.  This document seems to put a tidy bow on the layered measures school can and should take to ensure student health. And yet, the bow is quickly unraveling through no fault of anyone. 

The state has worked hard to help reduce the number of absences students incur due to COVID-19. This makes sense as absences rates correlate greatly with student success. There are no longer such stringent requirements regarding actions surrounding “close-contacts” and healthy students are able to return more quickly to school if they test negative for COVID-19 during an imposed quarantine time. Many schools are even taking advantage of the Learn to Return program offered that allows for schools themselves to do COVID-19 testing onsite. All of this may have worked beautifully if the Delta variant had not hit and changed the playing field.

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Relationships First

I’m pretty tired of the term “unprecedented.” At this point, I think educators are just ready to expect the unexpected. Our amazing team of custodians has a saying to cope with each new challenge: “well, it’s normal for this year.” 

Unsurprisingly, there was a lot of uncertainty approaching this school year. How will our community respond to the mask and vaccine mandates? Can we continue to push forward our equity work amidst CRT controversy? What will we do about the inevitable positive cases? How will we sustain our personal mental health and energy in order to make this year a success?

Though we can’t have answers to those questions without living through them, there is one thing I was certain of starting the school year: relationships first. 

Steps Toward a Restorative Classroom 

I’ve heard that phrase “relationships first” in educational spaces so much it has almost become cliche. But, that doesn’t make it any less true, especially this year. During this pandemic (past and present), we know our students have experienced trauma, unsafe homes, isolation, and depression. We know they are coming to us carrying those burdens, and they’re doing their best to cope with omnipresent anxiety, on top of the “normal” stresses of being a teenager. 

This year, I really wanted to challenge myself to make my classroom as student focused as possible. I have always been interested in restorative practices and after I attended a zoom training with the International Institute of Restorative Practices last spring, I set a few goals for myself, starting with setting our classroom community from day one. 

Classroom Circles 

I’ve tried a few classroom circles in the past, but never with any sort of regularity or fidelity. So, this year, I decided to start every class with one. Every single class. Every single day. 

I was nervous the first time, but I was pleasantly surprised by how my students came along with me.  

I have my tables arranged so we can stand in a circle, facing one another, and we pass a little stuffed unicorn (because, why not?) The first time we go around, we say our names and answer the question, without explanation. Then, in round two, they have a chance to expand on their answer. I’ve found this gives students who might not have a quick answer time to think and they can also borrow from their peers if something they said resonates. Saying, “yeah, what Brayden said” is a sneaky clue that they’re practicing active listening and building connections with one another. 

It’s early, but so far, no one has refused to participate (though I did have a teacher anxiety dream where they all stormed out!). Sometimes, students say “I don’t know” and I make sure they know that’s okay. Not every question will resonate with every person, but I try to cover a wide range of interests. 

We then do one last whip around with a quick either/or question before settling back into our seats. 

I have questions ranging from the surface, but very controversial, pancakes or waffles to some that are slightly more revealing like “When you were little, what did you want to be when you grow up?” We’ve also done one word check-ins that can take the temperature of the room in seconds.  

It’s fascinating to watch their personalities come out, even in just the first few weeks. You can tell so much about them not just by what they answer, but how. Does this student give one word answers every time? Does that one want to take over conversation and share their life story? Some of the best answers come from an introverted student who takes us all by surprise with a perfectly insightful answer that makes us all laugh. 

As we start our first unit this week, I am also going to use these circles as a sort of anticipation guide, relating our questions to our content. 

So Far So Good 

I had my first observation of the year Monday morning and in his notes, my administrator highlighted how the classroom feels inclusive, energetic, and comfortable. I greeted students at the door to check in before class started, as I always do. And when the bell rang, they eagerly jumped into the circle before I could even finish sharing our word of the day (indigenous). 

My admin noticed that all students shared in our circle, listened to one another, and showed they felt at ease in my room. He said, “They were all engaged in the lesson, and they were having fun doing it.” 

I feel like that’s about the best I can hope for to start this year. Plus, it’s a solid data point to remind me, later on when schedule pressures feel hectic, that meeting students where they are and caring about them as human beings are all that really matters. 

Hello/Good-by

This week we celebrated fifth grade graduation. We had a drive-through event at the office building for our 100% on-line school. At the top of the driveway families turned in laptops and all the curriculum materials.

Then, with music playing and the bubble machine blowing, cars drove down the hill to the cheering teachers. We passed out balloons filled with confetti, bags of treats, and wristbands that read “I 100% survived 100% online school!”

For each student we also handed out a graduation certificate. One line read, “You have successfully completed fifth grade.” I read that with each student and told them, “You are officially done with school. You don’t need to log into the system anymore.” That announcement led to a happy dance every time, the child in the car, me outside. “Freedom!” “Escape!” (in Finding Nemo fashion). “Hallelujah!”

Some students had their picture taken at the “Oh, the Places You’ll Go!” photo backdrop. Some said no thanks.

There were lots of smiles and even a few hugs.

I also spoke to every parent. Each time I said, “You did a great job.” The most common, instant reaction was physical. Shoulders fell. Heads dropped. Then the parent would say, “I thought I wasn’t doing well at all.” “I thought I was messing up.” “I thought I was failing.”

“No!” I said. “You were amazing! And you made it through this year. You did an awesome job.”

They straightened up then and starting talking about how hard it was.

“Yes. It was hard for everyone. I can’t imagine how you did it—

  • you, with three other kids at home.”
  • you, with a new baby.”
  • you, with your husband deployed.”

Side note here—I had been telling parents all year what a terrific job they were doing. On that last day of school it was clear that they read my notes as general and applying to  everyone else. Not to them. Individually, they each felt they were not doing well at all. Clearly, even phone calls hadn’t worked. All my encouragement during the year went nowhere. It wasn’t until I saw them face-to-face and spoke to them one-on-one that they actually believed me. Sigh.

Graduation was a thoroughly weird experience for all of us. It was the first time all year we got to see each other outside of Zoom. How strange was it? I didn’t recognize one of the other fifth grade teachers when I saw her in 3-D! She and I had met for PLCs nearly every day all year, but she looked different when she wasn’t flat.

One of the best things I heard that day was from one student’s mom who said it felt like I had reached through the computer and touched them. I told her it was mutual—we made a real connection in spite of the distance learning.

The other best thing was from a student who wrote in a card about how much she learned this year and added, “This year could have been so awful, but you made it close to wonderful!”

You know, I’ll take that. Close to wonderful is about the best I could hope for this year.

My take-away from all of this is that we must keep encouraging each other.

Encourage literally means put courage in.

  • Put courage in students.
  • Put courage in parents.
  • Put courage in each other as teachers and staff.

Courage comes from cour, which means heart.

Discourage literally means to rip the heart out of someone.

Our job is to put heart in. So let me start.

It was a ridiculously hard year. You maybe felt like you were failing. You maybe felt like you couldn’t do it. You maybe felt like you were never going to make it.

But look at you. You are here!

And you learned things. Like how to persevere. Like how to stay engaged with people even when you can’t be with them physically. Like how to use more and more and more technology. (Right???)

And you  made it.

You all did a great job this year.

Accountability: An Imagined Conversation

SCENE: Camera pans into The Principal’s Office. Teacher has been invited in for their end of year reflection conference. Principal has raised concerns about the high number of students on track to earn an F in Teacher’s 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 4th period classes. [Editor’s note: The characters represented below are not intended to serve as proxy for all principals or all teachers…]

PRINCIPAL [P]: Thanks for coming in, and I see you have your data with you [gestures to the stack of unnecessary spreadsheets the teacher is carrying].

TEACHER [T]: Of course. It really looks like the kids blew it this year. I’ve never had so many Fs in my whole career.

P: That must be frustrating. This has been an unprecedented year, according to everyone everywhere. Tell me about these Fs. It looks like from what I can see in Skyward, almost half of all of your students across all four classes have below a 50%. It looks like, though, when those kids don’t have zeros on their work, they are getting mainly As and Bs on assignments. What do you feel like is going on there?

T: Yeah, they just aren’t doing the work.

P: Hmm. What sorts of work have you been assigning them to do?

T: Typical stuff. The same stuff we’ve always done. I’ve never had so many kids just not do the work as this year. Worksheets, homework, reading assignments, there’s no trend, really, it’s just that they’re not doing the work or they’re just not turning it in. I remind them, I tell them to, but their engagement just sucks.

P: [Slowly nods and takes a deep breath] I see. What do you think is getting in the way of them doing the work or not turning it in? Maybe something to do with what’s going on in the world right now?

T: No, they’re coming to school on in-person days, and they’re even coming to zooms. They’re just not doing the work.

P: Tell me about your response to this situation. How are you providing feedback to them about their performance? What sorts of support or differentiation have you tried?

T: Well, they get zeros in the grade book. [Tosses grade book printouts onto the table between P and T.] They know they’re supposed to be doing the work. They’ve gotta learn that they can’t just not do what they’re told to do. That’s a life skill. What’s gonna happen when they’re in a job someday and they just don’t do what their boss says? No more job. No paycheck. In school, that’s a zero.

P: So it sounds to me like you are attempting to prepare them for real world responsibility.

T: Exactly. Gotta hold them accountable. No work, no score.

P: You’re intending to teach responsibility and then hold them “accountable.”

T: Exactly.

P: So tell me again, what is it that you are doing to teach responsibility?

T: They get zeros in the gradebook when they are too lazy to do the work and turn it in.

[Principal cringes, takes a deep breath, mentally runs through HR deadlines and CBA just-cause procedures.]

P: That sounds more like you are testing their responsibility.

T: I don’t get it.

P: It sounds like giving them zeros in the grade book isn’t teaching them responsibility, it is testing their responsibility.

T: I still don’t follow.

P: Let’s think of a math example. If you were going to teach the students the quadratic formula or the parts of a cell or how to decode a poem, what would that look like?

T: Lessons, examples, practice, a few quizzes, probably a final test.

P: So what do lessons, examples, practice, a few quizzes, and a final test look like when you are teaching responsibility? What might I see if I were observing this in a classroom setting?

T: [Visibly frustrated] I don’t get what this has to do with anything. They aren’t doing the work. I’m giving them zeros to teach them a lesson, I guess.

P: Okay. But you said that in “teaching,” the lesson’s just the first stage. You said [checks notes] “lessons, examples, practice, a few quizzes, and a final test.”

T: It’s a lesson they gotta learn! If I don’t give them zeroes how else are they going to learn responsibility?

P: Are they learning responsibility when you give them the zero?

T: I don’t understand.

P: If the “lesson” to teach responsibility is to give the kid a zero, what evidence might you have that this lesson is achieving its desired effect?

T: They get zeros for not turning things in. That teaches them the lesson.

P: I feel like we have a disconnect here. This is what I am asking you to consider: First, you’ve been giving students zeros all semester.

T: Yes, when they don’t do the work.

P: Have you found that getting a zero on missing work teaches the student responsibility, teaches them to avoid missing work in the future?

T: No. It’s all the same kids [taps on printouts], they just don’t do the work.

P: So it is clear that giving them zeros is not actually teaching them responsibility…

T: [interrupts] …nope, they just keep not doing the work.

P: …so have you considered that maybe your lesson on responsibility isn’t actually working?

T: So you’re saying I’m not allowed to give zeros? Fine, everyone gets an A!

P: That’s not at all what I’m saying. I’d just like you to reflect on what the lesson is that you’re trying to teach and whether the lesson is actually resulting in the student learning what it is you want them to learn.

T: How are they supposed to learn responsibility if I don’t give them zeros?

P: The same way they learn anything else: You teach the skill intentionally before you expect them to perform it. You give them examples, guidance, and feedback. You give them a safe place to fail now so they won’t fail later. You give them opportunities to demonstrate the skill, reflect on their mistakes, revise their thinking and their practices. I’m not saying don’t give zeros, necessarily. I’m saying that when you put a zero in the gradebook, you are testing them on a skill you haven’t explicitly taught them. High school is where students are supposed to learn the skills that keep them from the kinds of consequences you described: losing jobs, losing paychecks. When you give the zero, you’re taking away the paycheck, you implied that yourself. My question to you: What are you doing to teach responsibility, not just test responsibility?

END SCENE: Camera pans away, Teacher’s scrunched brow indicates they are clearly wrestling with this new concept of responsibility.

State Testing in the Time of Corona

Schools function best when they follow processes. Students, families, and staff know what to expect. Everything stays in compliance with state and federal laws. We follow the process year after year. Fine tuning and increasing efficiency until a pandemic hits. Then, we scramble.

At the start of every year new students who may qualify for English Language (EL) support services in Washington state take the ELPA21 screener. I wrote a previous blog post that went into greater detail about the test, but here’s a quick overview: students new to the school qualify to take the test based on answers given on school registration forms. The test is mostly taken by incoming Kindergarten students and a few older students, who are either new to the country or state.

As a result of the pandemic no students at my school took the ELPA21 screener.

Therefore, every child, whose families indicated their first language as other than English or that they speak a language other than English at home, became a provisional EL student. They received EL services.

About a month and a half ago my school transitioned from a fully online learning model to a hybrid model with the option for families to stay fully online. Almost immediately the state wanted every student attending school in person to take the ELPA21 summative assessment within a very narrow time period. Provisional EL students needed to begin taking the test within a week.

Leap Year

It was the spring of my first year teaching, and I was walking hurriedly through the hallway on the way to pick up my class. I saw our music teacher in the hallway, and she asked me how I was and how things were going. Her concern was genuine, and I told her how tired and overwhelmed I was.

She smiled at me and said, “Let me give you my best piece of advice. They say in your first year you sleep; in your second year, you creep; and in your third year, you leap”.

Admittedly, her words have been rattling around in my brain for the last three years. The statement felt too simple to be good advice, but now that my third year is coming to a close, I’ve found she was absolutely right. 

In the fall of my second year, I wrote about how the rating of “Basic” on my evaluation affected my perception of myself as an educator.  

Looking back, I realized I was unable to see the ways in which I had grown because I was far too fixated on the rating my evaluator was giving me. In the months following that observation, I worked tirelessly to improve my teaching. With the help of an instructional coach, I built solid structures for managing my classroom and facilitating my instruction. I was proud of my hard work and asked my evaluator to visit my classroom to see firsthand all that I had worked to improve. 

Then, the pandemic hit, and the classroom visit never happened. 

As my third year of teaching comes to a close, I can’t help but feel robbed of experiences and opportunities for growth. I was assigned to a fully remote position this school year, which means I have been out of my classroom for essentially as long as I was ever in it. My foundation of classroom skills lies with a version of myself I’m having a hard time recognizing.  

However, despite all of this, I did leap.

I learned what I am truly capable of as an educator and grew in ways I didn’t think I would. Things I could never quite get a firm grasp on in the physical classroom became second nature in my virtual space. In a year with so much uncertainty, I adapted to everything thrown at me. 

In the end, I was finally marked proficient on this year’s evaluation. Truthfully, it didn’t feel as satisfying as I thought it would. It was always just a label and never a true reflection of how I perceived myself or my teaching abilities. 

When you’re a new teacher, the evaluation process can feel daunting. It carries with it the weight of something that is the end all, be all to your teaching career. I’m here to tell you that it is definitely not, and share my big takeaways from my first three years:

Your teaching is not binary

Nothing in life is black and white, and neither is your teaching. Yes, there is such a thing as “good” teaching and “bad” teaching, but nothing is 100% all of the time. Some days are good, and some lessons are bad, or maybe it’s the opposite. Or it’s both at once. Either way it doesn’t matter because teaching will always be fluid and messy. Give yourself a little room to breathe, good things take time. 

You are more than your teaching abilities

Being an educator is just one facet of our identity; it is not everything. Your value as a human being does not hinge on your teaching abilities. Truthfully, I often still struggle with this one. 

Openness to feedback and other perspectives is key

To hear feedback, you must allow yourself to be vulnerable. Someone pointing out the things we are not excelling at never feels great, but it’s necessary for growth. However, another person can only offer what they see on the outside and how others see you is rarely the same as how we see ourselves. Others cannot view you through the lens of your past experiences, traumas, and projections. For better or for worse, feedback is just a mirror. It only reflects the surface. It can show you what’s happening on the outside, so that you can begin the work on the inside.   

Observations are never as bad as they feel

After every observation, I’ve thought it went horribly (and honestly, sometimes it did go horribly) but most of the time, it was just the nature of teaching. I know those moments where you feel like the train is two seconds away from leaping off the tracks, but if that’s how it feels, it’s because you care. It means despite everything you perceive to be going wrong, you are doing your very best, and it’s enough.

Speak Up At School: Inviting Everyone into Equity Work

Equity Advisory Committee 

I recently helped design and lead a district wide PD on equity. A mandatory staff training of this breadth hasn’t been done in close to a decade, let alone a training focused on equity, so our work was cut out for us.

The impetus for the training came from our district’s Equity Advisory Committee (EAC), a group of teachers, parents, and leaders who’ve volunteered to assess our district’s equity policy and practices. 

Our teaching staff is 93.9 % white so  talking about issues of equity and race is difficult, to say the least. But, this group has been collaborative space to surface issues of discrimination, bias, and inequity.

Parents have been vocal and vulnerable. One in particular shared how her son was called the n-word by another student repeatedly, and chose to transfer schools because he didn’t feel safe, let alone really seen. 

Educators have articulated their frustration with equity work that seems to move at a glacial pace. 

Speak Up At School 

Our superintendent’s initial plan for this mandatory equity training focused on Harassment, Intimidation, and Bullying (HIB). While that work is critical, our equity leaders worried that centering on HIB would be an easy excuse for white people to once again avoid talking about race and simply focus on colorblind kindness

Knowing this, we reflected on what we’ve done in our building to design a training using the  Speak Up At School framework from Learning for Justice

We started the session with an overview of the resources and we then moved into breakout rooms where people discussed scenarios that have happened in our buildings using the Interrupt, Question,  Educate, and Echo pocket guide.

Although we’d hear some complaints later, as we always do with anything labeled “equity,” it seemed to be going well. The conversations in the breakout rooms I visited were productive and people came back to share thoughtful insights with the larger group. 

It was going well until the last two minutes, that is.when an older white man, let’s call him George, asked why we can’t just go back to the times of Martin Luther King when we celebrated everyone, regardless of their skin color. He said he doubted that MLK would even have supported Black Lives Matter

And, just like that, a relatively successful training crumbled. My principal offered redirection and a few tried to point out the flaws in his thinking. But, others echoed George and quickly the chat spiraled into a political debate that luckily could be severed by an “end meeting” button.  

The next week, when I saw colleagues in the hall, they were just as likely to thank me as they were to cringe about what George said. 

Later, we found out that one of the few staff members of color ended up leaving the meeting, rightfully discouraged by how colleagues debated the validity of her lived experience. 

Equity 101 

I can’t and don’t blame her because I too was incredibly frustrated, and I have the privilege of being white.The fact that a training we had worked on for weeks could be so easily derailed easily was disheartening, but not exactly surprising. 

Having so many different staff members together was a glaring reminder that we don’t all need the same training. Teachers differentiate for a reason. Some students need sentence stems to start an essay, while others dive into symbolism with college level prose. We meet students where they are and we need to do the same for adults. 

The EAC was clear: equity work (education and training for tangible change) has to be mandatory. As soon as “equity” is optional, educators will choose to check out. It’s up to leadership to find the best ways to invite everyone to this work, otherwise, nothing will change. 

Our staff of color might need affinity groups, so they don’t have to hear the George’s of the world catch up to 2021. And, maybe George needs a safe space, perhaps with other white males, where he can ask questions and get some more accurate answers without committing an abuse against the marginalized.

What would it look like to have an equity 101 course in our August staff development, along with a 201, 301, and even graduate level? What would it look like to have these ongoing conversations all year? Not just in “equity” allocated PD days, but in all of what we do? 

This training we started has to be the floor, not the ceiling. 

Yes, Even (Especially) White People

A few weeks later, I saw George at a sporting event and he thanked me for “that equity thing.” He said it was good stuff but “it’s hard because, you know, we don’t have a lot of…*insert awkward hand motions to wave around the fact that we are 93.9% white.*” 

I tried to call out what he was dancing around and said something like, “Yes, it is challenging to have these discussions with a majority white staff, but the work is still important.”

Hindsight, I wish I had added something like, “As white folks, we have to confront our own biases and reflect on how our norms can be harmful. We need to act to interrupt systems of white supremacy and inequity.” 

But, in reality, if I said that, he probably would have shut down. George is a good reminder to me of the need for “Equity 101” and staff differentiation. He means well and it seems he wants to learn, so the only thing worse than his training comments would be for him to stop listening and engaging altogether. 

We might be in different places on our equity journeys, but it’s important that we keep our foot on the gas. 

Good-Bye ELPA21

Standardized testing.

This phrase stirs up a lot of emotions in the world of teaching. If you work in a public school, you probably experienced some sort of instinctual reaction yourself. Did you remember the long, monotonous stretches of time spent monitoring students? Or the pressure from administration for students to perform?

I am not sure how you personally responded, but I am willing to guess the thought of standardized tests failed to put a smile on your face.

When most elementary school teachers think of standardized tests in our state, they think of the Smarter Balanced Assessment Consortium (SBAC). However, I am an English Language (EL) Specialist, so standardized testing makes me think of ELPA21.

An Immigrant Story

I moved to the United States in the late 90’s during a wave of Slavic immigration to Washington State. The Soviet Union fell apart and the Eastern European countries under communist control were (and still are) filled with corruption as a result of the socialist dictatorship, offering few opportunities for economic advancement. In Ukraine people today buy test scores and degrees, bribe doctors to receive care despite having nationalized healthcare, and pay off the mafia to operate businesses. Last year my cousin was killed over two dollars. No wonder my parents decided to abandon everything they knew to seek new opportunities in the United States. Like thousands of other Slavs, my family moved to Washington State with nothing to their name.

You’re probably wondering how my personal story relates to school and school policy. For the past few years my district promoted trainings in diversity and equity, challenging staff members to examine their thinking and biases. The trainings coupled with personal experiences and anecdotes from other Slavic teachers and students made me realize that these trainings are often approached from a solely Americanized perspective often not accounting for the immigrant experience.

Trauma-Informed Classrooms for All

There is no denying it. Education is changing due to Covid-19. And, to be honest, it needs to. We have been stuck in a rut for a long time, and much needed change is long overdue. This last year I feel like the veil was lifted, and the dark and ugly side of education was laid bare for all to see. We found out what we strived to achieve was all an illusion.

Equity? We did not have it. Some families had the support, the technology, and the safe and secure space to conduct school at home. Many, maybe most, did not. Do any of us believe that it made no difference before the pandemic?

Engagement? How many of us had the illusion that our content was truly engaging blown away when our Zoom meetings were lightly attended and our remote learners opted out of all of our innovative and personalized resources? If they opt out as soon as they are out of our reach, did we really have their attention?

Achievement? Did our grades and test scores measure the important metrics? What good have they been to us this year? Who still cares about standardized tests? Have we all figured out what we are actually teaching yet? (I’ll give you a hint: It’s not standards.)

As we move back to so-called normal, we need to remember that the old normal no longer exists. More than that, we have changed. We have come through a time of collective trauma, and we can only succeed if we create safe and supportive learning environments for students and teachers.

I am a trauma-informed educator. I grew up with trauma of my own, and I have made a study of trauma-informed teaching practices to better serve my students. I believe this has helped me reinvent my teaching practice this year in ways that supported students and created a safe and secure learning environment. I plan to do more.

I remember when I first learned GLAD (Guided Language Acquisition Design) strategies to better serve my English language learners in class. The selling point was that all students would benefit from them. The same must be said of trauma-informed teaching practices. They will make all students feel more supported, more safe, more able to learn and grow with us.

And, let’s face it; aren’t we all a little traumatized this year?

Students who have experienced trauma feel unsafe in most places, including school. They may have little control of their fear response due to trauma, and when they are under this stress they are less able to learn, to focus, or to regulate their emotions. They may be hyper alert or withdrawn. They may have disruptive behaviors. They may struggle socially, academically, emotionally, and even physically.

Here are some gems I collected from my recent research on trauma-informed classrooms:

  • A 2014 study tells us that 45% of students have experienced some form of trauma. What do you think the numbers are now?
  • All students learn best when they feel safe and supported.
  • A safe, caring, and consistent adult is the best intervention for a child affected by trauma.
  • Both students and teachers must feel psychologically safe in the classroom- no bullying, no judgment, no demeaning behaviors.
  • The key to relationship-building is authentic interactions that respect student voice and perspectives.
  • Trauma-informed discipline requires us to acknowledge the role of trauma in behavior and use appropriate consequences that promote healthier reactions in the future (think restorative justice practices).
  • Self-regulation and mindfulness skills are as important as any curriculum.
  • We can offset stressors with messages of empathy and optimism to support healing and resilience in our students.

I’d add to this list that we should do the following as we reinvent education:

  • Create systems for evaluating student work that are more holistic and less demeaning and/or stress-inducing.
  • Demand discipline systems that respect every child and offer support and encouragement over punishment.
  • Encourage creativity, student choice, physical activity, and all other joyful pursuits.

There is an excellent article from the School-Justice Partnership: Trauma-Informed Classrooms. It is very long, but comprehensive.

If your time is limited, here is a short tip sheet from WestEd for Creating Trauma-Informed Learning Environments.

I would love to see more resources in the comments. I hope that educators all over the state will band together to support our students with new and improved practices- trauma-informed classrooms for all.