It’s July 23rd and I should be sitting at this desk and furiously working to finish my novella that is due to my editor in seventeen days. *cue panicked rocking* However, school begins in twenty-six days and my brain turned to the school year as it’s wont to do at this time of year.
AHHHHHHH.
And so I found myself at my desk wondering if I should ignore the impending school year or if I should type out this blog in the hopes that once I do, I’ll be able to focus on getting my novella written for the rest of the day.
You can clearly see that’s where I landed. We’ll see how it works out for me.
I think the school year was on the brain today because next week I get the chance to meet with my new AP. She scheduled times for all staff to come in and meet with her. As I looked over the list of topics she would like to discuss, I debated how to describe my classroom. I thought about what’s important to me, how it’s reflected in that space. I thought about my first twenty-four years in education and I thought about the last one. I’ve just begun to process it and I think I will continue to for some time.
In a normal year I have the students fill out surveys at the end of the school year. I ask them what they got out of our year together. How they felt about coming to school each day, how they felt about coming to our room. I have a list of words that I see repeated from survey to survey, year to year, when they describe how my classroom makes them feel:
Loved
Safe
Home
Family
Kind
Caring
Wanted
Safe-space
Of course, they talk about books, they talk about writing. They talk about the creative process and sometimes, when I’m lucky, they talk about how they grew as readers and/or writers. That is all so important, but it’s this list I come back to year after year.
I examine a new batch of reflection and see if I notice the same words repeated. It tells me they know they can be themselves in my room. It tells me that no matter what else is going on in their lives, I’m helping to provide what I can in the lower levels of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. Without that, what’s the purpose? These words tell me that they get that I’m here for them and will keep them safe.
Which is what screwed with my brain big time last year.
It’s no secret that I struggle with anxiety. Everyone who knows me knows this. I don’t keep it a secret on purpose. We, as a country, need to do a hell of a lot better in talking about mental illness. It’s not my fault that my brain is wired this way. I acknowledge it, develop ways to deal with it, and work to set myself up for success.
A pandemic can mess with that just a bit.
I knew, if I was struggling, many of my students were too. So I worked to make the classroom a safe space for them in the midst of this all. And make it a place to learn and grow.
It was a lot.
This year I hoped and prayed things would be different. I could take away a layer of the anxiety that I called the Vid, and move back to normal.
Delta, Delta, Delta, I don’t want to help ya.
So, I’m looking at starting a new school year not where I’d hoped and prayed we’d be. And you know what? That’s going to have to be ok. I’m doing what I can to be safe. My entire family is vaccinated, or those that are old enough to be are. I hope for my friends with young kids that the authorization comes soon, I know that will make so many of them feel better. As I walk into the classroom for my twenty-sixth year in education, I’ll do so knowing I will teach kids to read and write better than when they entered the room. I’ll work to help them tap into the creative side of their brains. And I’ll remember that now, more than ever, I need to make sure my classroom makes them feel:
Loved
Safe
Home
Family
Kind
Caring
Wanted
Safe-space
Have a great school year, friends. Stay safe.
