Category Archives: Current Affairs

Your Turn: Back to School, 2021

By the end of summer this year, most parents were anxious to see schools open up full time for all students. This was not just a local concern, but a hot topic nationwide. On August 18, President Biden issued a memorandum: Ensuring a Safe Return to In-Person School for the Nation’s Children. This memorandum called for “full-time, in-person school for our nation’s  children.” 

Washington educators answered the call and returned to their classrooms last month with full class sizes and somewhat relaxed safety precautions. We asked the Stories from School bloggers about their thoughts on this return. How are we ensuring the safety of our students and ourselves? Read their thoughts below; then we would love to hear from you in the comments. What is your experience with this year’s back-to-school season?


Gretchen Kruden: Grateful for the Protocols and Support

Having had two beloveds (one vaccinated and one not) contract Covid this year, I have had a front seat to the turbulence Covid causes in a home. It was awful to have felt such wringing worry for days on end.

That said, I am so grateful our school is following masking and handwashing protocols to a tee. We are also on the spot with kids going home and staying home who have any symptoms of Covid until they test negative. In addition, we will be rolling out an onsite testing program to help ease the financial burden of driving the 50-mile round-trip to get a Covid test for our families. The only additional layer of protection I hope the state will provide is a mandate for health districts to enforce that has schools pivot to distance learning when a certain number of Covid cases/100,000 people are active in the area. 


Emma-Kate Schaake: We All Need to Do Our Part

I feel grateful to be a teacher in Washington. I am friends with teachers in other parts of the country where even the very baseline practice of masking is essentially nonexistent. We’ve already had at least five positive cases in our first eight days of school, so I can’t imagine living and teaching elsewhere. 

That being said, that doesn’t mean our community universally accepts these truths. One of our school board members actually ceded his time with a piece of duct tape over his mouth to protest the mask mandate. 

We’re all pandemic weary, but I’m well aware that it’s a gift to be back to in person learning. I don’t want anything to jeopardize our time together, so we all need to do our part.


Leann Schumacher: Physical Distance with First-graders?

To echo Emma-Kate’s feelings, I feel so fortunate to live in Washington state. It is horrifying that other parts of the country are penalizing schools for trying to keep their teachers and students safe. Truthfully, I was very nervous about starting this school year. The dread was definitely not as intense as Fall 2020, but the anxiety was still there. Working with first graders, it has been a struggle to keep my physical distance as much as I should be. The little ones need proximity for guidance not to mention they struggle to fully comprehend directions as they can’t see my mouth. 

The students themselves are struggling to keep 3 feet of distance and I often see masks below noses. However, in general, my district has good systems in place to help keep staff and students safe but this is far from “normal” and I wish that we would be more open to acknowledging and accepting that fact.


Lynne Olmos: It’s Not Yet Time for Back to Normal

It was a stressful reopening for us in Mossyrock. Our numbers of Covid cases in our area were steadily climbing, and our community has been largely anti-mask and anti-vaccine. There was even a protest across the street from the school on our first day.

It is a struggle to follow the safety precautions when our students and our parents often see us as part of a system that they neither trust nor respect. The very first week, our entire volleyball team was quarantined after a player came down with the virus. This was a stark reminder that we are not over this yet, and we need to be prepared for the same sort of measures that we had to put in place last year, such as the possibility of remote learning or reduced cohort sizes. I am glad to have all my students with me, but this is stressful! Everyone wants it to be “normal,” but it just isn’t, not yet.


Denisha: It’s Worth It to Be Back, Despite the Cost

Teaching remotely was difficult; coming back into the building has been even more challenging. That saying, “be careful what you wish for” is 2021-2022 in a nutshell.

It is nostalgic, saying good morning, having someone respond in real time! Even though I would never ask to be back online, I don’t know that after a year and a half we understood what being back in buildings really meant. 

Shorter attention spans (adults too), kindergarten, first, and second graders with almost zero experience of how to “do school.” First, second, and even third year teachers, still really first year teachers. Modified recess, mask breaks, homesickness, substitute shortages, extended absences, anxiety, and most of all fear.

The issue? Systems. Every neighboring district is doing this version of school differently, which leaves everyone wondering, who is doing it right? 

The tears and anguish displayed daily on both students and teachers would make you wonder, why not go back online? In-person is still the right choice, but the cost is great.


Jan Kragen: Despite the Protocols, Covid Strikes

I’m happy that all the staff at school is fully vaccinated. Of course, I work at an elementary school, so the kids aren’t vaccinated. Yet. 

Everyone is wearing masks, but mask-wearing ranges from kids who double mask to those who–in fifth grade–can’t seem to keep one mask over their nose all day despite multiple reminders.

Our desks are spread out. We use hand sanitizer frequently. There’s a protocol for bathroom use, and kids are spaced out at lunch time.

Still, on September 16 I left school feeling sick. The next week I tested positive for Covid. So did enough kids that my whole classroom went into 14 days of quarantine. I haven’t been back to school yet.

Thank God I had a substitute who was able to work ALL the days I was out and who had two daughters in my room in years past. When my lesson plans were sketchy at best, she was able to fill in the blanks.

I’m going to try to teach in the afternoons next week. Here’s hoping I don’t relapse. The truth is, until we can get the kids vaccinated too, all the best protocols really aren’t enough.


What about you, readers? How was the first month of school in your district? Please leave us your comments below.

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.

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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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.

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.

Facing 2021

I’ve hosted dinner parties in the last couple of weeks with fully vaccinated friends. It’s been delightful to see people again, face to face!

So many of those adults shared stories of how hard this year has been, how much they’ve struggled, how exhausted they are. We’ve talked about the need to rest. To recuperate. To do art and music and get exercise. To stop pushing to get everything done. 

Then I think about the kids returning to—possibly—full time school next year. And two SBA tests. (Lord have mercy! Why couldn’t we just acknowledge that this was a horrifically bad year and drop one test entirely?)

I heard an interview with a psychologist on the news the other day who said we won’t be able to “return to normal.” We will have to transition. It will be a process. It will take time.

Personally, I think we will have to focus on social and emotional learning (SEL) at least as much next fall as we have during remote and hybrid learning. For several reasons, “many students will need increased mental health support as they transition back into a full-time academic environment, and as they struggle to manage grief, anxiety, or other emotional responses to recent events.” We are going to need to monitor students, not just in the first weeks of school, but for months. Our schools will need a response plan in place for the year. We need resources and more resources.

One year I had a student die. I led my students through their grief. We wrote cards to the parents. We attended the memorial service together. We had an assembly. We planted three trees and set a plaque in the garden in memory of their friend.

memorial trees

It was A Big Deal when we changed desks a few weeks later. As everyone cleaned their desks, I cleaned out Kyle’s. When we moved desks, I made sure his was in the mix. No one knew who ended up with his desk.

“Wait, where’s Kyle’s desk?”

“It’s gone,” the kids said.

“Like Kyle’s gone,” someone added.

“Kyle will never be gone,” was the fierce reply.

We read some short stories at the end of the year that elicited yet another highly emotional response and discussion. Kyle had died months earlier.

We are going to have classroom full of students who have lost a family member or a family friend—someone they know. Imagine the compounded grief and the emotional echoes that will reverberate all next year.

I know how long trauma can linger in a classroom. I’ve seen it.

This year I’ve had parents call me, in a twist, worried that their child will be academically behind next year. I’ve said, “No, they won’t. The entire country went through the same pandemic. Everybody’s kids struggled with remote learning and Zoom lessons and connectivity issues. Your child won’t be ‘behind’ because everyone will be set back the same amount.” The parents breathe a sigh of relief.

On the other hand, I’ve had parents tell me that they aren’t pushing their kids to achieve this year. If the kids get their work turned in—eventually—the parents really couldn’t care less about the quality. I tell those parents that I understand. There is a limit to what we (teachers/schools/districts) can expect out of families when everyone is overwhelmed.

I think the very worst thing we could do next fall is walk in the door with the attitude that all our students are months and months behind and we have to get them all caught up in the space of the next nine months. “If we don’t get them caught up next year, we will have failed.” Even worse: “If they don’t get caught up, they will have failed.” “Failure is not an option!” Buckle up, kids, it’s pedal to the metal from the first day of school! 

Adding that level of stress to kids—and their parents—will be a disaster. We don’t need to be in launch mode. We need to be in recovery mode.

Instead of looking at the students who come into my fifth-grade classroom next year as “fifth” graders, I need to look at where they are. I may actually have a class of “fourth” graders, in terms of achievement. I need to start there and work forward at a reasonable pace.

Meanwhile, next year I should do art (therapy), music (therapy), and poetry (therapy). I want kids to journal, sharing their experiences, their stories, and their feelings.

I want them to heal.

According to my husband, who chairs a coworking community group, business people are doing that kind of social-emotional work right now. Adults recognize how important that work is—for adults. Kids are going to need extra SEL support next year too. 

Wednesdays

Wednesdays are saving my life right now.

Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays, I deliver in-person instruction for 335 minutes each day (down from 350 minutes per day pre-Covid, mainly because we had to make room for rotating lunch periods, which increased passing time).

During that 335 minutes of face-to-face time, I also work in a varying amount of time to simultaneously zoom with my students who remained fully remote.

During those 335 minutes, I say I “deliver in-person instruction,” but I’m a big believer that the person doing the work is the person doing the learning, which means that I work hard to shift the cognitive load to my students… getting them doing, talking, reading, writing.

To shift that load requires deliberate planning and preparation.

And shifting that load means students produce work which deserves feedback and guidance.

When people criticize teachers’ complaints about our workload, I wonder if the public envisions the old school university prof standing in front of the class lecturing. Let me tell you, lecturing is easy. I’m at the stage of my career where I could lecture your ear off for a ninety minute block no problem, no prep on my part required…just give me a topic and a time limit. Plus, the students are just sitting and “listening” so they aren’t generating work that needs feedback or assessment. Is this what people picture when they imagine the work of a teacher?

Anyone with any knowledge of teaching and learning knows what research confirms: that sort of marathon direct instruction, the endless lecture and notes method, is wildly unsuccessful for the massive majority of learners… especially teenage learners compelled by law to attend as opposed to university students paying top dollar to get their college’s name on a resume.

Good teaching requires preparation, intentional design, and feedback (which is sadly, the easiest to let fall to the wayside when time is tight). When I’m at my best, the ratio is easily 2:1, two minutes of preparation, assessment, and feedback for every one minute of student contact.

Add to the whole mix collaboration with colleagues, communication with families, and email…so many emails…and the finite resource of time quickly is exhausted.

Which is why Wednesdays are saving me right now, and why our current Wednesday routine is one I’m hoping we can continue into our post-COVID transition.

Right now, Wednesdays are full-remote days for our student body. Students are off-campus (except for small group intervention or scheduled appointments with staff), and teachers have created independent learning experiences that students continue to engage with. The pressure here is to ensure that the “homework” we design is effective and advances learning… and considers the varied non-school environments that our students may be learning from.

But Wednesday, sans structured student instruction, enables us to make home contacts, collaborate with peers on instructional design, provide feedback on student work, and build more responsive lessons.

Yes, these are things we’d be doing anyway. But now, there is time to do that work within my work day.

I’m still up at 4 or 5 am to read student work or fine tune the day’s lessons.

I’m still at school most days well after my “work day” is over, and grabbing moments to lesson plan or respond to emails while I cook dinner or help my own offspring with homework.

But Wednesdays are saving me because, for the first time in my career, I at least feel like the system actually considers what my real work is… and is giving me time to do that work at work.

Would I rather my work be doable within my work day, not overflowing into the early mornings and late evenings? Of course.

Wednesdays are a start. We have all this talk about shaking up our system post-COVID. The quality of those moments we spend in front of kids is the direct result of the quality of those moments we spend planning to be in front of kids.

We know our system needs to change, and the systemic and predicable inequities of our students’ experience prove that. System change isn’t just about policies or trainings or different curriculum. How we structure teacher time, in my opinion, is the highest leverage change we can make to our system. Without that change to the fundamental structure of our schools, all the other efforts will be for naught.

Anti-intellectualism in American Schools

How many of you watched The Queen’s Gambit? Lots of hands up? Good.

I had a visceral response to two scenes. In the first, highly-ranked American players from around the country played chess in a high school gym. There are a few people scattered in the stands, some dozing. No reporters. No cheering fans.

In the second scene, a similar group of chess players was in a swanky hotel in Paris. There were reporters and attentive spectators. 

The images stuck with me long after I finished the show. I thought about that American game and how different the place would have looked if it had been a weekend varsity basketball game.

Our nation applauds talents and gifts in sports, building gymnasiums and stadiums, supporting teams with booster clubs and cheerleaders.

America, though, has a strong anti-intellectual streak. It’s been that way all my life, but in my view, it seems to be worsening in recent years. That anti-intellectual bent reaches all the way into our educational system.

Jonathan Plucker, a professor at Johns Hopkins University who focuses on making accelerated education more accessible to disadvantaged students, says, “The ideology is turning against excellence. We are institutionalizing anti-intellectualism, and that has long-term implications for us.”

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Giving Grace around Graduation

Earlier this month, Governor Inslee signed into law a bill intended to start a chain of events that I’m optimistic will lead straight to the students I teach.

EHB 1121 essentially authorizes the State Board of Education to establish procedures for local schools to grant credit waivers to certain graduation credits on a case-by-case basis for students impacted by events beyond their control.

There are several things I like about this. One, it isn’t limited to this year: it establishes a protocol which can be applied when a student’s education was impacted by local, state, or national emergencies.

Two, this part: School districts may be authorized to “grant individual student emergency waivers from credit and subject area graduation requirements established in RCW 28A.230.090, the graduation pathway requirement established in RCW 28A.655.250, or both” (page 2, lines 7-10 of the law as passed, which you can read here).

That last authorization is key to authentic flexibility. There are a variety of ways that students may have been impacted this year, and the “waivers from credit and subject area” requirements will hopefully give us some leeway. Some kids might have engaged in their art electives because it helped them cope with what was going on in their world, but might have struggled with distance-learning chemistry class. Conversely, another might have thrown themselves into the latter and felt unequipped to engage in the personal vulnerability that might have been plumbed in the former. The language about “credit and subject area” waivers allows us to take either situation into consideration, and not withhold a diploma from a student who was not able to check the box next to that last art or science credit.

While I do believe that the graduation pathways were a positive step forward, I am relieved that they are included in the waiver, since their nascency in policy might have meant that the COVID years would have been their first attempt at full implementation in many districts.

Bigger than all of this, though, is what the need for this bill reveals about our high school graduation credit system as it is.

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Night School For Kindergarteners

Equity is a buzzword in education. We hear it used by staff, administrators, and presenters. Under regular circumstances the practical application of equity seems to fall short of the ideal. During a pandemic, ensuring equity for students when teaching digitally becomes an almost insurmountable challenge. 

This school year my district stepped up to tackle this challenge with an innovative approach: an evening school option for elementary students

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