Category Archives: Life in the Classroom

Learning and Leading for Equity: Just Keep Going

By Guest Contributor and Tumwater High School English Teacher, Emma-Kate Schaake

Humble Beginnings

Three years ago, our equity team was the new kid in school and we had all the hallmarks of not quite fitting in.

We dressed a little differently; Black Lives Matter shirts and rainbow pins. We asked questions while our peers rolled their eyes, understandably exhausted on a Friday afternoon. We visibly perked at the mention of data as everyone else sighed.

Together, we read articles, analyzed school data, and challenged our perspectives. We wanted to examine our privilege, change our classroom practices, and dream big for the future of our school.

Year one, we hosted a staff professional development session on white privilege and, let’s just say, it didn’t go well. People reacted defensively and resisted the very definition of white privilege. They then shared that we wasted their time, because our school is mostly white anyway.

 We had high hopes for systemic revolution, but progress on the ground was slow. We were asking staff to dig deep and examine what they knew about their lived reality, which was inevitably uncomfortable.

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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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I Taught a Lesson Today!

It’s Tuesday, September 22, 2020. School started on September 2. We are three weeks in.

Due to health concerns, I moved from my fifth-grade classroom at a brick-and-mortar school to teaching at our district’s online academy. I get up and dressed for work each day. Then I walk down the hall to the study or the dining room table or the card table in the family room.

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Virtual Teaching… from where?

As we ready ourselves to start a new school year unlike any other in our history, many districts in our state are once again embroiled in debates about teachers-as-workers and the rights and protections we deserve.

A sticking point in many places strikes me as fundamentally confusing: Whether instructional staff should conduct distance learning or virtual teaching from their physical classrooms or whether they should be permitted the flexibility to do so from off site.

I gotta be honest: This feels like a no-brainer. If students are learning remotely, why should teachers not have the flexibility to do their work from the environment they feel is best for their and their family’s health and safety? Personally, I have decided that I will probably be heading into my classroom unless I’m told I cannot. My preference, though, isn’t shared by others. And those others have valid reasons for not wanting to leave the relative safety of their homes…and even if we as a society seem to have forgotten that we are in the midst of a global pandemic, my colleagues’ valid concerns are literally matters of life-or-death.

My biggest problems with the debate have to do with the reasons being given as to why teachers should report to their classrooms for virtual teaching. None of these reasons, to me, outweigh the personal health and safety of a teacher or a teacher’s family: If our work can be done effectively from a safe environment, why not? (Sadly, local news sources like to stir the pot on this issue, with at least three local outlets in the Portland/Vancouver area doing the old “hey viewer, what do YOU think?” about where and how I and my colleagues ought to do our jobs.) From district leaders, policymakers, parents and the public, I’ve noticed four common arguments for requiring teachers to teach virtually from an empty classroom:

Common Reason #1 for Requiring Teachers to Report to School for Virtual Teaching: The employer has the right to verify that the work they are paying teachers to do is actually getting done. Okay, on the surface, I don’t disagree. How did this happen in face-to-face learning? Admin drop-ins and observations? Stacks of student work or student art on the walls? Student and parent feedback? These, or something analogous, can and will happen in a virtual setting. In fact, a virtual setting inherently creates mountains more potential artifacts that a teacher is “putting in the work.” From last spring, I have hours and hours of videos, mountains of virtual folders of work still in my Google Drive, and electronic data trails far more enduring than much of what was produced by my face-to-face teaching (where there would be whole class periods that might go by filled with interactions, discussions, probing questions, and coaching conversations: none of which necessarily produce any immediately tangible evidence that these ever even happened).

Common Reason #2 is closely related: Last spring there were many teachers working triple duty to do their job well, while others for whatever reason (lack of skill or lack of will) skated by doing much less. In theory, getting every teacher in the building will help with that, since supposedly the administration will have nothing else to do but diligently oversee everyone’s work (sarcasm). This is a classic case of creating policy for all in order to attempt to force the fringes toward different behavior. This is also, however, exceptionally poor leadership. Are there teachers not doing as much as they should? Such a population exists in every profession and also existed in teaching before the world flipped upside down. Rather than create policy that constricts the many, it makes more sense to exert instructional and managerial leadership to remediate the few. Just as it is a disservice to my ready learners for me to engage in sweeping classroom micromanagement to forcibly compel compliance from reluctant learners, it makes no sense to adopt blanket personnel policy for all when what really needs to happen are tough, uncomfortable supervisory conversations with the few who may be shirking their responsibilities.

Common Reason #3: It will make the transition to eventual hybrid or face to face learning easier. Okay: How? I’ve yet to hear a convincing follow-up answer to this. I am concerned about how I can facilitate my students’ eventual transition, but I can handle relocating my own work if needed. The small number of teachers who can’t handle that? Again, like above, that’s a small group and is a management/supervisory issue.

Common Reason #4, the least persuasive: It is bad optics to have teachers working from home. I get that we are public schools. I also understand that the public will have strong opinions about anything and everything teachers do. But again: How many people are we really talking about? No matter what teachers do, ever, there will always be a faction of the public outraged and ready to take it to the supe’s office. Now would be a great time for our leaders to smile and nod at those complainers, and then consider policy that serves the physical and mental health of the employees…those same employees being charged with scaffolding up the physical and mental health of our students. (It is perpetually disheartening to see, nationwide, school systems that refuse to treat employees with the same essential care and humanity they expect those employees to provide for students.)

As the s-word starts to bubble up for various reasons in school districts across the nation, when it comes to where we teach virtually from it feels like we (labor) are fighting a fight we should not have to. Has anyone out there heard valid, compelling reasons why teachers should not have the flexibility to teach from wherever they feel safest during distance learning? Despite what it might seem from this screed, I’m open to having my mind changed.

August: Four Things I Need to Remember

Normally, I could move through August a little bit on auto-pilot: get the room set up, check the rosters, re-tool and update the curriculum, plan to fold in the lessons learned from the previous year, maybe build a new unit or two based on my most recent reading or learning.

Like many schools in Washington, my district is starting up in September fully virtual/distance learning, a difficult decision and one I personally support both as an educator and as a parent. For that reason, auto-pilot is a no-go. This is hands-on navigation through a hurricane. In a mountain range. At night. With no GPS and glitchy radar. And there are murder hornets in the cockpit.

I cannot plan in a vacuum: the pandemic, the protests, the politics, these are all realities that I understand will impact what I do as the outside world pushes into my classroom unlike ever before. This August, I’m focusing on a few things I need to remember as I welcome students, virtually, into our learning environment:

Real Student Conversation

Cartoon of student images

I started last Wednesday’s zoom office hours assuming that my students would most likely ask questions around their statistics math work.  I spent the earlier part of the week predicting which questions they may have complications with, creating problems with step-by-step explanation, and jotting down my calendar availability in case students needed extra support sessions.  

I start all zoom meetings asking my attendees how their weekend was. Delightful conversation usually occurs around how we are all keeping busy while staying at home.  Once all the students have had an opportunity to share, we switch topics and discuss math.  This last Wednesday was NOT business as usual.

My first student asked, “Mrs. Eaton, did you hear there is going to be a protest down at Winco?”  

I said, “Yes, I heard about that.”  

The discussion quickly unfolded into a slew of questions.  Math wasn’t spoken of at all during the day’s sessions.  

Some of my students are very confused and scared about what is happening in our country.  There were varying opinions on what students have been seeing on TikTok. It was interesting to discover that students receive much of their news from TikTok, the social media platform where people are sharing funny dance moves, challenges, and jokes. 

Students discussed different TikToks they had seen and how they were affected.  I asked students to think about the accuracy/validity of what they were viewing. Students defended TikTok and expressed they felt it was “unfiltered real news”.  When I asked them what they meant by that, they unanimously replied that you can’t trust news from the television.  

The conversation then switched to racism.  Some of my students vocalized they wanted to demonstrate their support while under quarantine (still in phase 1 where we live.)  Others were scared because undocumented older siblings were going to attend the protest. They feared the police would catch them and send them to a detention facility.

Many of my citizen students never considered that some of their classmates were not documented.  An eerie silence filled the zoom room when a student asked another if they were born here.  I interjected and asked my students to think about whether it is okay to discriminate against anyone on the basis of race, sexual orientation, gender, religion, or national origin?

I can’t help but wonder what this would have looked like in a regular classroom.  Would students have been shy to speak up?  Does the stop video function act as a courage button in allowing students to be more vocal?  Does the chat function facilitate hearing the voices of students who, in a regular classroom setting, would have been overshadowed by outspoken students?

During distance learning our priority, as educators, has been intensely focused on providing equitable instruction.  I have been researching best practices, planning, and preparing what the start of 2020-2021 will look like. It is easy to forget, at times, that our classrooms were safe spaces where students were able to ask non-academic questions.  

The best thing I could do was listen and allow an open forum for their discussion.  The honest truth is that in today’s society, teachers are assumed to be viewed as neutral or as a moderator when discussing such topics with students.  Students look up to their teachers and are influenced by our views, regardless of how we stand on any issue. 

I understand that there are many ways to dismantle institutional racism and other controversial issues affecting our country.  However, let’s not forget that space must be provided for students to question and discuss these issues in a non-threatening environment.  It is through moments like this that understanding occurs, unconscious biases are discovered, bias starts to be extinguished, and our society begins to change for the better.  

Roll Up, Roll Up!

For years I taught a 5/6 split. The students I had as fifth graders “graduated” into being sixth graders in my next year’s class. Half my class each year was made up of returning students; I called them my “vets.” Half my class was made up of incoming students; they were my “newbies.”

Now I teach a straight fifth grade.

Boy, I miss having a consistent roll up.

There are so many advantages to having a roll up or “looping” classroom.

ONE

When I taught in a roll up, I had every student for two years, increasing student-teacher connections. I saw more improvements. Kids who might be quiet the first year came out of their shell more the second year. They blossomed! They went from not wanting to answer a question in class to clamoring for us to take our class poetry readings on the road.

I remember one third grader announcing to me on the last day of school, “I hate doing work!” I watched him run to the bus and thought, We’ll see how long that lasts. It actually lasted all of fourth grade, but by fifth grade he turned the corner. He became a diligent student, happy to put in the effort because he loved seeing all the great things he could accomplish.

I can make a big difference in a single year. In two years I can do magic.

TWO

Students hit the ground running.

You know how you spend a long time in the fall teaching your class the routines and protocols of your classroom?

With a roll up I could do that so much faster.

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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

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.