Author Archives: Lynne Olmos

Being There: Teaching 2021

In a time where every student needs a little more emotional support, we educators are uniquely qualified to fill that need. We are skilled in making the connections that keep kids curious, excited about the world around them, and engaged with their peers.

This is life-saving work these days.

Our children need schools to buoy them up in times of stress. They need to have hope and inspiration of the sort that teachers deal in on a daily basis, through literature, history, science… all areas of discovery and joyous participation. What a gift we teachers can give to the children in our classrooms!

And I see it every day. I see it in the lively classroom chats and the lessons that get kids thinking, talking, and laughing. I see it in the way our staff makes time for kids: a health teacher who gives up her lunch to chat with a shy student who needs a safe place to hang out; a math teacher who comes in early to help kids with homework; a paraprofessional who visits with junior high students in the hall about sports, fashion, celebrities, whatever interests them, even patiently listening to long-winded chats about Fortnite or TikTok celebrities!

Kids need this. After a year and a half of periodic isolation and loneliness, the students in our schools have the adults on high alert. We are vigilant. Are they eating? Do they seem too quiet? Have they stopped turning in work? Did they mention they were moving again? The worry is constant.

This is our most important job- being there for kids. It takes a lot of effort and energy to truly be there for kids, as an educator, a mentor, a caretaker and much more.

But, these days, do we have the time and energy to do that oh-so-important job well? I want to say yes. Yes, because it is important, that is what we will do. But, this is a complicated situation. Educators are feeling the strain. The entire system is strained.

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.

The Promise of 2021: The Irreplaceable Educator

Hopefulness is evident in celebrations all over the world. There is such hope that the New Year will bring a return to normal, a return to a less complicated time. Of course, we are more pragmatic than this. We know that the normal we once knew has changed, and we will take many of this year’s complications with us far into the future. That is the truth, and, well, that is how progress happens, too.

As educators, this is significant. Most teachers I speak to relate similar feelings. Their jobs have become so different, practically unrecognizable. “This isn’t what we signed up for,” is the common refrain. I’ve said it, too.

No, it is not what we expected, but it is what we have now. And it is a bit scary. There is a real danger of people leaving the education profession. However, change can be leveraged to solve problems. As educators, let’s unite to do this. Let’s make this next year the year we start a revolution in education.

REVOLUTION. Not renaissance, not pivot, not shift. Let’s flip this system.

This is not to be taken lightly. If we sit quietly and wait for normal, the entrepreneurs out there will convince the public that they can create products for online learning that are better than in-person teaching. They will market these miracles to the masses and this will be touted as ethical and equitable. Anyone with access to the internet can learn. Who needs teachers?

You may think, so what? Let them turn to online systems. But, if this year has taught us anything at all, it is the value of human connection. We teachers may be struggling to realize our value as purveyors of knowledge, but we know our true worth. It is obvious that we are invaluable when we are the ones coaching lonely youngsters through their studies, reminding them of their worth, laughing at their antics during Zoom meetings, and consoling them when their practices and games are canceled. That humanity is irreplaceable.

I treasure every moment of connection with my students these days. And I know that I am a better teacher for seeing the value of it. Because of this, there is no going back to normal for me. I don’t even want it to be the way it was. For me, the lifting of the veil revealed that all students need to feel safe, in control of their learning, and valued by their teachers and by the education system. That is the only way to move forward successfully.

For equity, for ethics, we need systems that honor the value of each individual. In light of this, I am reinventing my practice to put students clearly at the center, giving them more power in the process of choosing the learning they will do. I will involve them in the grading process, and I will work every day to ensure that they understand their worth.

I understand mine. And I know that every educator out there needs to see their worth, too. You are the connection. You are the humanity. You are irreplaceable.

Related Readings (Or, Why Is Lynne All Riled Up?):

The Pivot

We are pivoting, again.

Pivot? I keep hearing this word, and the famous phrase from The Princess Bride keeps running through my head: “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”

In the dictionary, pivot (v.) means to turn in place, as if on a point. Synonyms include rotate, revolve, and swivel. I get it, because what it means in a staff meeting is that yesterday may have been an in-person hybrid day, but now we are pivoting to fully remote teaching temporarily, due to a rise in cases of Covid-19 in our district. We are swiveling, changing direction, quickly without pause. We have done it three times this year, and it looks like we need to be prepared to pivot in the future. This is the new normal in education, shifting to meet the immediate needs of our students. Not a bad thing, in general.

However, I don’t want to merely pivot, at least the swivel variety of pivot. In business, a pivot is a true change of course. The product is not selling, so change the product or get a new one to sell. I’m feeling more like that. Students are failing in record numbers. Teachers and students are struggling with engagement and isolation. Not only is this a problem in itself, but it has also revealed and highlighted some troubling pre-existing conditions in education. (There are many, so I will leave you to imagine your favorites.)

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Goals: 2020-Style

Tell me about your goals. What were they before Covid-19? What are they now?

I’m guessing they are somewhat different. Our priorities have shifted. At home, this is good – more time with family and pets, and far less time on our hair!

However, my educator goals have suffered terribly. Prior to this year, I had clear and powerful goals for my classroom, my students, and myself. In fact, I had three areas that I was independently researching or promoting, and I was really fired up about them, too. I was building a toolbox of my own to be the best teacher I could be to my students.

Here are my goals, pre-Covid:

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Hybrid Model: The Inside Story

My district was one of the first in our region to go back to school face-to face this year. We began a “hybrid model” on September 14, with seniors and K-3 going four days a week, and all others going twice-a-week in cohorts (Monday/Thursday and Tuesday/Friday). On Wednesdays we delivered online material and caught up with our work, while reinventing it simultaneously. Some of our students opted for full-time distance learning, but the vast majority excitedly prepared for the first day of school.

Our neighbor districts were watching us intently. Would we pave the way for others to follow us, or would we cause an outbreak in our tiny town?

One week in, “it” happened. A student, who later tested positive for Covid-19, attended the first day of school. Dozens of staff members and students were subsequently quarantined due to contact with the student, and the decision was made to suspend school until the 14-day quarantine period was over, giving the health department time to do all of the necessary contact tracing. Our schools and buses were disinfected, and our teaching staff pivoted to all online learning, something we were told was likely to happen from the start.

Not an auspicious beginning, you might say. But let me elaborate.

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One Last Lesson: Mindfulness in Trying Times

I cannot begin to tell you how special my 2020 seniors are to me. I feel like writing them a mass letter of recommendation, pinning the hopes of the world on their amazing shoulders. They are the inspiration I need these days, because their cleverness, their resilience, their awareness, and their kindness are what we need to solve problems and hold each other up.

Last week I had one more online class with them to plan, and I had to make it matter. They have been my students since seventh grade. They’ve heard all my stories; they know all my opinions. I’ve presented them with hundreds of lessons on literature and composition. If I haven’t taught them a skill by now, it really is too late, right?

2020 Mossyrock Seniors in Junior High

Bell to bell. I like to fill my students’ time with learning, which makes me an exhausting, high-energy, way-too-intense teacher for some folks, but they know to expect my expectations. And we were going to learn on the last day, too.

What was the lesson they still needed? We had dedicated most of the last semester of their dual-credit composition class to “skills for success”. We brainstormed what successful adults had learned – outside of school. We compared that to their collective knowledge, and then they dug into some research to create projects to share with their peers to expand their knowledge in the homestretch. They created research papers, multimedia presentations, and blog posts (see them here), as individuals and groups. It was relevant, dynamic, timely, and successful. And, in the middle of it, the pandemic happened.

Some of the Girls (Photo Credit: Amy Fitzhugh)

So what was the lesson I still owed them? It is one I am working on myself, and one we all need, especially with the isolation and the unfamiliar challenges of distance learning. I announced that I (their least relaxed teacher of all time) was delving into mindfulness techniques to manage stress in these strange times. I have been reading about stress and mental health all year, and I had just attended our CSTP Happy Hour that focused on mindfulness with special guest Christy Anana. All of the signs led to this topic. This topic chose itself.

I let my vulnerability show, telling my seniors I knew my mindfulness skills were awful, and my “vibe” was not the sort that a mindfulness teacher would have, but I also knew that it was a skill for success that we had bypassed in our research. It was too important to leave out.

Some of the Boys (Photo Credit: Sage Pereira)

So, we watched some videos: an explainer on stress and the brain; some videos of a high school teacher who helps her students “arrive” through mindfulness; and a video that led us through a mindful minute. We discussed how we felt about it, how our conservative community would react if teachers started teaching mindfulness regularly, and how we could use it in our lives to stay grounded and present.

And, as usual, like every other time, these kids impressed me. They were amazing, and already better than me at mindfulness.

The Home Team (Photo Credit: Amy Fitzhugh)

So, at the end, I gave them instructions as to how to write their final reflection and submit their portfolios. There was an awkward pause. I struggled to find some witty way to say my final goodbye, and I failed.

I just said, “I’m going to let you go.”

Pause. Long pause.

“Are you going to cry Mrs. Olmos?”

“Yes.”

That was the last lesson, the last gift I had to give those students. But, next year’s students, no matter what next year looks like, are going to get a more mindful teacher from the get-go.

One More for the Road (Photo Credit: Amy Fitzhugh)

Resources:

How Our Brains React to Uncontrollable Stress

Harvard Researchers Study How Mindfulness May Change the Brain in Depressed Patients

The Mindfulness Skill That Is Crucial for Success

Arrive – A Mindfulness Minute

Mindful Minute – Beach

Christy Anana on YouTube

This Is Heavy: The WATAC Conference and Finding Meaning

Last weekend I attended the 4th Annual Washington Teacher Advisory Council’s Spring Conference.  The planners re-organized their conference into an online format. Amazingly, they were able to accommodate the largest number of attendees in their history thus far. That is one positive when it comes to the distance learning format. We can fit more folks into the “room.”

Don’t get me wrong; I would have much preferred seeing all my friends and colleagues from around the state in person. I look forward to it every year. However, seeing them all virtually and hearing how they are dealing with our unprecedented issues these last months of the school year was invaluable.

If you are unfamiliar with WATAC, it is an organization formed initially to organize award-winning teachers in our state to make our expertise available to stakeholders with influence on education policy. Since its inception, it has expanded to include leaders from all aspects of education – administration, certificated, and classified. Anyone with an interest in teacher leadership is welcome at the conference. And, for me, the conference has been a great way to get a shot of teacher energy as the final stretch of the school year hits, and I really, really need that boost.

This year…I really needed a boost.

Don’t we all? The truth is I am actually grieving. I wobble back and forth between shock, depression, and a sort of manic activity level of problem solving. I’m a mess! In fact, the concept of the five stages of grief won’t get out of my head. Although, losing a loved one is unspeakably worse, losing my classroom feels like a huge loss.  After all, I love my job. I love the most annoying of my seventh graders and the snarkiest of my seniors. I am deeply attached to my classroom, my kids, and my teacher lifestyle. So, yes, I am grieving the loss.

The five stages are trademarked, actually. You can go to David Kessler’s website, if you are interested in what he says about grief and grieving. After wondering if I was actually experiencing grief, I looked over the process: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.

Yep. I’m doing all of that.

The conference theme was “Back to the Future, and keynote speaker Amy Campbell, our current Washington State Teacher of the Year, quoted the famous meme that comes from the movie Back to the Future, the one where Marty McFly says, “This is heavy.”

This IS heavy, Marty. You thought it was tough that your mom had a crush on you. But this, THIS is heavy.

Education is changing. This is not merely a moment of pause. We can’t go back to normal. In this crisis we have pulled back a curtain and revealed serious problems with equity in education. Yes, we knew they were there, but it is easy to just go about our business making little shifts that don’t rock the boat too much.

It won’t work that way this time. Serious change is needed, and now is exactly the time to work on it.

As Amy told us- speaking directly to my teacher soul – we are experiencing loss. We are in a crisis that impacts our safety, our economy, and our mental health. “Hindsight really is 2020,” and we need to find our “place on the continuum and start moving forward.”

Most importantly, she said, “Old normal should not be the final destination.” And I feel that. I really do.

As a member of the teacher panel later in the conference, I was asked what was working, what was hard, and what I want to take into the future of education. I don’t remember what I said exactly, and I hope it made some sense at the time. But, I can summarize right now.

What’s working? YouTube, Padlet, Zoom, and all the technology no one thought we could use on such a large scale.

What’s hard? Missing the kids and noticing that some fell off the radar when the crisis hit. Many of my kids live in crisis all the time. Not knowing where they are right now is indescribably tough..

What to take forward? Poor kids, rural kids, isolated kids—they deserve whatever the other kids get. I don’t want to see how the one-to-one schools gracefully flipped their systems to accommodate distance learning. I want to see how internet access becomes a universal right for all families. I want legitimate supports for English language learners and students with IEPs and 504 plans. I want to see every teacher receiving the training to support distance learning. I want my tiny district to have more than the grit, goodwill, and volunteer spirit that is filling the gaps in the system. I want equity for all- educators, families, students, all of us.

That’s what I would take to the future.

So, thank you Amy and all the other wonderful WATAC planners and facilitators. You acknowledged what we are going through and you set us on an impassioned path to the future. You did not pretend it was easy, but you did assure us that we are not alone on this journey. There are a lot of amazing educators who are fighting the fight alongside us. So thank you.

In closing, my grief research led me to David Kessler’s final stage of grief from his latest book. He calls it “finding meaning.” It is the way that we can begin to move forward. We find meaning in the loss. I am starting to feel like I am on that path. With the “loss” of my familiar job as an educator, I am focusing on how to reinvent it to make it equitable, relevant, engaging, and, well, comforting, for the students of my future classroom, online or elsewhere. I am beginning to plan going back to the future.

WATAC Facebook Page

Amy’s Keynote on OSPI’s YouTube Channel

An Empty Classroom and a Full Heart

Hey, teachers. How are you? Tough week, huh?

Me? I’m okay, just a bit lonelier than usual. I am alone in my classroom, alone with empty desks, blank whiteboards, and quiet halls. It is eerie and unsettling. It puts everything in perspective for me. I’m trying to consider it a gift, insomuch as I can in these difficult times.

As you know, all schools in our state are closed, but our local administrators have some leeway in the management of the closures. The situation is fluid, and changes daily, but this is what I am currently experiencing. The school buildings are closed to the public until at least April 27. We are delivering food and grade-level learning packets via bus routes. Families who prefer can call ahead and pick up meals and supplies at our school offices during abbreviated hours. Classified staff are still busy, at least part time, doing odd jobs, disinfecting the facilities, copying the packets, preparing the breakfasts and lunches, delivering the food and supplies, and providing childcare to local first responders and healthcare workers. 

As for the teachers, we are expected to work seven-hour days and log our activities daily. This week we are preparing the learning packets, creating activities that can help our students progress without our day-to-day contact. We are asked to stay in touch with families and make weekly calls to the students in our advisories. We can clean and organize our classrooms. We can sign up for online classes. We can read books or watch online professional development videos. We can work at home if we so choose.

I see other teachers in my social media feeds creating cool online resources for their students, but we are encouraged to plan for the many students in our district who won’t have internet access. We are rural, a bit remote, and we have a large population that is often displaced or even homeless. It’s complicated. Continue reading

Meditations on Social Emotional Learning

I’ve been meditating lately.  I’ve also been juggling sticks, and bouncing balls. I’ve been intentionally crossing my center line and stepping up my yoga practice. Why? Stress. Not because I have more stress than I had before, but, after a lifetime of suppressing my stress responses, I finally found out how to regulate them.

It turns out that we can learn to manage our own stress and emotions. As educators, we need this, both for ourselves and our students.

For the entirety of my career, I have heard it in the staff room and in our meetings: Our jobs are getting harder because the kids are harder to teach than they were before. Are they? Maybe. We certainly have specific challenges that are increasing year by year, and they often have everything to do with our students ability to manage their emotions, or self-regulate. For too long, educators stuck to the idea that the families were responsible for the emotional learning of young children, but we know better now. We are part of the team that teaches our kids to interact appropriately with one another, and, even more importantly we teach them self-regulation skills.

Honestly, we always have taught these skills. What has changed is that now we are more intentional about it, and we even have legislation to back it up. Standards have been written (OSPI’s SEL page), and all those publishers are making bank selling us all the new ways to help our kids with social emotional learning or SEL (the ASCD’s resource list).

I’m for it. Who wouldn’t be? The kids in our care can only benefit from building stronger relationships with their teachers and peers, and that is a big part of social emotional learning. But, since we have so many other things to teach them, SEL will often be wedged in as an add-on and it may or may not effectively help the ones who need it the most. Continue reading