Category Archives: Education

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

Letting Go and Leaning In

Covid-19. Quarantine. Social Distancing. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. 

At the beginning of May, I went into my building for the first time since the initial announcement of the 6-week school closures. I walked through the eerily quiet hallways looking at all of the artwork and school announcement posters still hanging. Everyday items clinging to life, waiting for the halls to once again flood with children to justify their purpose.

I meandered up the stairs and finally arrived at my classroom. Our painted hearts from Valentine’s Day sitting frozen in time on our display wall. I opened my door and was hit with hot, stuffy air and silence. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Water bottles sitting on desks waiting for their owners. My daily schedule still set on March 12th, patiently waiting for the 13th to take its place.

Crayon boxes open on desks, books messily shoved into book boxes, and pencils everywhere. Centimeter cubes sitting in the random spots where kids had left them after a busy day of math workshop. Pillows askew in the classroom library and papers shoved into desks. The stuff of everyday learning filling every inch of my classroom but no longer having any purpose because time has stopped in Room 205. 

What began as weeks has now turned into just over two months of distance learning. As I attempt to continue teaching and give my students feedback, I can’t help but think: Do I even really know this child anymore? It’s been over a summer break’s worth of time since I have seen them in person. Are they still obsessed with Pokemon? Do they still like to eat jelly sandwiches for lunch? Is this feedback going to resonate with this version of them? The faces I now see in front of me feel like a virtual simulation of the students I used to have. I feel incredibly guilty for thinking this way but what we had together in our classroom feels like a lifetime ago.

The feelings of personal inadequacy are strong too. I find myself constantly thinking about all of the things I could do better. As an educator, that feeling is a constant companion, but in this world of online learning, it feels especially overbearing. It’s no longer a companion, but rather an uncontrollable force. Even with each passing team meeting, staff meeting, or online collaboration I somehow feel more alone. 

We have to keep moving forward, but with the 20-21 school year still hanging in the balance, it’s hard to know what to hold on to. It’s hard to know how to manage expectations or what to plan for the next school year. The thought of possibly having to continue fully online for a new school year breaks my heart. We’ve all been cheated. We’ve all lost precious time in our classrooms to grow and learn and give. 

Teachers work their tails off to get to March. The spring is everyone’s big payoff for the school year. We spend Fall and Winter building community, routines, and foundations so that when Spring rolls around our students can soar. More than ever, the classroom feels like a true family as we come to the realization that this school year is coming to an end and we will no longer be together every day. Teachers and students alike begin to savor and soak up every moment they can. 

Not all hope is lost though.

As I comb through my student’s current work, I am often reminded of Rita Pierson’s wonderfully inspiring TED Talk. Within the first minute, Rita quotes James Comer and it is the heart of her message: “No significant learning can occur without a significant relationship.” I think of this quote often because, despite everything, my students are still growing. With each passing week, I see more legible handwriting, longer fiction stories, deeper comprehension in reading. Math concepts I must have taught about 50 different ways in-person without success are starting to click at home. 

Whether it’s a teacher or a parent, kids learn from the people they love.

While I don’t get my big spring payoff there can still be a happy ending. We can take this experience and use it to better leverage family involvement in the future. Maybe we can finally redefine what a learning community looks like. Maybe when they say “it takes a village to raise a child”, we can start creating a better village and lean into the communities that are often ignored beyond our classrooms. I’ve learned that distance can’t stop love or strong relationships or the ways in which we have positively impacted another human being. Kids will always need champions in their corner, even if that corner is miles away. 

Distance Success

For the vast majority of my students, distance learning has not been working.

Not just my classes, but the concept in general. Many report that their lives outside of school are often unstructured, unfettered, tumultuous, so the routine and predictability (and accountability) of school was what kept their footing. They miss being greeted by the principal and our awesome secretaries every single morning. They miss our one-hallway community where literally everyone knows your name. They even miss my bad dad-jokes. (I added that last one, because I’m just assuming…)

They share with me that it isn’t the content, or the tasks, or the obscure grading expectations, or the fact that they might spend hours staring at a chromebook. It is the loss of the structure of school, both literal and figurative.

While some are adrift, a handful are experiencing an academic transformation. The numbers are small, but there is something about this distance learning thing that is working for them. Let’s take one student, who I’ll call B*. Prior to March 13th, attendance was spotty. When present, B was physically present only. Despite constant attempts to connect, few of us on staff were able to claim we actually had a sustained conversation with them. In the weeks prior to the shutdown, I received two assignments from B. They weren’t defiant, and to be honest their skills (in my classes, at least) did not appear to be deficient in any significant way. B was, and is, an enigma we are continuing to work to unravel.

Transition to distance learning and this same student had nearly the highest rate of engagement of all my students. This is a student listed as homeless, with a history of bouncing from school to school, and with a outside-of-school life that instantly led to worry every time they missed school. When I asked B why distance learning seemed to work, I parsed out three trends in their (short) reply:

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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

The Sexual Health Education Bill: Facts to Calm the Fear

Shannon Cotton

By Guest Contributor Shannon Cotton, NBCT

Senate Bill 5395, known as the comprehensive sexual health bill, was a hot topic in Olympia this Legislative session.  A few weeks ago I spent 90 minutes watching TVW listening to the state senators make comments about the amendments before a roll call vote which passed the bill 27 to 21. 

Legislators talked about constituents who  felt as if “government isn’t listening to what they want.” For every parent who wants to exercise their rights to control the sexual health education of their child another family desperately wants their children to have access to health-enhancing information. Shouldn’t our public school system make information accessible to all as long as provisions are made to allow a family to opt out if they wish?

As a National Board Certified health teacher with 16 years experience teaching sexual health to middle school students in Washington state, I have been fielding questions and attempting to help others understand what this bill means to student learning and overall student health. I have spent more hours than I care to admit trying to clear up misconceptions and disprove outrageous propaganda created to spark fear into parents on social media with information that are outright lies. 

Here are some facts about ESSB 5395:

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Hands-in Learning

Like many of the rest of you, I went from being a classroom teacher to also being continuous-education facilitator (perhaps a new state term?) of my own children in the blink of an eye. While I am still juggling the steep learning curve of being a virtual teacher for my brick-and-mortar students, I have had my own steep learning curve at home. 

This morning, we sat at the kitchen table and went through our “classroom norms” to start the day:

Breakfast eaten-check. Hair brushed-check. Teeth brushed-check. Pajamas changed into real clothes for the day-check. I double-checked…no pajama bottoms? Wow! We already had some of my “real” middle-school classroom norms beat! 

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Uncharted Territory

I had planned to write this blog on tier two interventions.  However, I believe many of us find ourselves thinking about our students and how to best teach them during this time.  The main question that plagues me is: How can I maintain equity for all my students during this time?

It isn’t fair that there are unheard student voices out there who are scared, upset, angry, confused and some who can’t communicate.  I know that teachers are in uncharted territory, but students are looking to us, their teachers, to establish normalcy. I have spent the better part of the school year getting to know and understand all of my students’ mathematical and social-emotional needs.  

I learned through classroom meetings that my students had busy lives with many obligations outside of school. When we received the news that the 16th would be our last day together, my mind was flooded with thoughts. 

A few days ago I surveyed my students.  Their names have been changed for privacy.

How would Melanie handle her math when I know she is the oldest sibling and will likely be taxed with the extra responsibility of keeping her siblings in check.  

“I’m kind of starting to like it less than I thought I would. My house is kinda crazy right now with my 6 siblings around all the time. I wish it was only 3 or 4 weeks. I have to help them with their school stuff and it’s hard.”

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No Right Answer

It is a classic “damned if you do, damned if you don’t.”

My own three children are in three different buildings in the same school district (one elementary school, one middle school, one high school; all in a different district from where I work). Technically, their teachers have been directed by district admin not to send homework yet.

My elementary schooler’s teacher has done so anyway, with the clear communication that it is optional. She has sent suggested math pages from the workbook, along with video guides. She has also video recorded herself reading aloud to kids. My son is in a Spanish-immersion program, so he is also charged with continuing his online practice program. I’m okay with all of this.

My middle school son was asked by his science teacher to finish up a project about natural disasters that they started before the shutdown. His math teacher has sent e-packets of worksheets. There hasn’t been a clear statement of “optionality” for these. We haven’t heard from his other teachers. I’m okay with all of this.

My high schooler? Radio silence from teachers. I’m okay this, too.

Seattle Public Schools Superintendent Denise Juneau has stated that the largest school district in Washington will not transition to online learning in the immediate future. Meanwhile, the Los Angeles (LAUSD) school system is investing $100 million in making sure kids without online access are provided tech and internet during the shutdown. From one side, Superintendent Juneau is being praised for her pragmatic view of the access divide among Seattle students. The other side is quick to drag her publicly. (I’m not hiding my bias well, am I?)

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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

Homework is Dead, Long Live Homework

At the beginning of this year I interpreted at a parent-teacher conference for a Ukrainian third grade student. He was a second year English Language (EL) learner.  The teacher praised both his academic and social progress. His mother listened politely and nodded at the appropriate times. At the end of the conference, the teacher asked if she had questions. The mother asked,  “Why is my son getting so little homework?” 


A note written by a Ukrainian parent. Translated it states:
Please give my son more homework in all subject areas.

More than a decade ago, Alfie Kohn wrote, “The Homework Myth: Why Our Kids Get Too Much of a Bad Thing.” Stanford published a study in 2014 showing the pitfalls of homework. Other studies cropped up. All detailing the ineffectiveness and negative impacts of homework. With homework steadily gaining a bad reputation, my district and school decided to encourage teachers to decrease the amount of homework given to our K-5 students. 

Parents noticed. 

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