Tuesday Slice: My current situation in song

 

I have more empathy for telephone-based tech support these days, as I help parents and students find their way to their teachers' Google Meet and Schoology virtual classrooms.  We are all learning to navigate online together.

Like Shakira, my hips don't lie.  They're telling me that they don't like sitting in an office chair for forty-five minutes out of every hour.  I've never considered myself athletic, but the carpal tunnel symptoms and trigger finger I wake up with every morning and the hips that have to be unlocked every time I rise from my seat are evidence that my body needs to move to be healthy.

Equity is a focal point of our district and campus this year.  I've returned to the Title I school in my neighborhood after seven years at an upper-SES campus, and the difference between the two with this odd beginning is glaring.  I'm seeing images in my social media feed of creatively crafted learning spaces with gamer headphones and a laptop for each child  that look like mini-classrooms from the latter,  while we are still making sure families have devices and teaching them to make quiet learning corners at the former.

I couldn't bring myself to watch the RNC on television last night.  My heart and stomach ache at the very thought.  To be fair, I didn't watch a lot of the DNC either, except a bit of the roll call, which made me smile and brought me joy.

Music keeps me going these days.  Enjoy the playlist..

Tuesday Slice: Kitchen table talk about social studies

 

My collegeboy is about to wrap up his three week staycation at home, in between apartment moves.  I've enjoyed his company; we have interesting conversations, and he's not afraid to challenge my thinking when he has experience and knowledge to back up his assertions.  Lest you think we argue a lot--we don't.  We had a spirited meeting of the minds across the kitchen table the other day on the topic of teaching social studies.

Yes...social studies.  

The setting:  the TV has been set to PBS travel shows all day long as background noise. Collegeboy and I start talking about travel show hosts--Rick Steves, in particular, whom I've had the pleasure of seeing in person at a librarians' conference.  He was a keynote speaker, and none too shy about sharing his views on the importance of travel and understanding different cultures at a person-to-person level as a way of gaining world peace.

Talk of travel led to talk of geography and history which led to the teaching of those subjects and the timing of that teaching in our curriculum.  Fifteen minutes into this conversation, we had concocted our own scope and sequence.  I present it to you as "what ifs".

What if...

social studies in elementary schools deeply focused on geography and culture, starting at home and working its way out into the world by fifth grade?  Maps and globes, families and food, music and art, clothing and religion and celebrations are common, tangible, understandable concepts that humanize the inhabitants of our shared planet.  Concrete does not imply simplicity: real discussions could happen about differences and similarities and shared needs and dreams.

What if...

history was taught from middle school through high school, starting at home and working its way out into the world by graduation?  With a solid background in geography and culture, the events would no longer be seen as disparate dates involving a blank setting and faceless actors.  History wouldn't be seen as a straightforward timeline of exploration and wars and outcomes in black and white.  Students would be old enough to think about the gray areas, explore bias in the record-keeping, discuss the perspectives of the conquerors and the conquered.

What if...

teaching social studies this way, with an emphasis on humanity, helped make us more understanding of our role in history and the caretaking of our world--and each other?

I'm going to miss collegboy when he returns to his university this week.

Tuesday Slice: Back to school musings

 

One full week into the work calendar...some thoughts:

Teachers all over the country are adjusting their bedtimes and alarm clocks.  Some of my teacher friends have been doing the go-to-bed-a-little-earlier, wake-up-a-little-earlier method.  Bedtime for me isn't so much about minutes as it is "Star Trek" episodes.  My summer escape from coronavirus chaos has been two to three hours of "Star Trek" each night, Sunday through Friday, on a station that runs episodes from five series--the original, then "Next Generation", "Deep Space Nine", "Voyager", and "Enterprise", ending at midnight.  Some nights I was up until midnight; most of the time I fell asleep to the opening theme song of the last showing.  This past week I've cut back to a few minutes into "Voyager"...but I really need to turn off the TV halfway through "Next Generation" if I'm going to achieve waking up at 430a again.

It's been nice having our college boy home, and the time has gone by fast.  I realized with a shock that he heads back north in eight days, which means we'll be following in ten days to move the rest of his belongings to his new apartment.  He's been working hard on internship applications, a requirement for his final semester.  His college graduation in December is a testament to his willpower to overcome adversity--he began his freshman year three years ago on a liquid diet, barely able to open his mouth after major jaw surgery. I admire his perseverance!

As I was moving some of my stuff into school yesterday, a family approached and asked about registration.  After checking in with the registrar, I was able to give them the details about registering online.  They were so appreciative, and their little girl waved at me and said goodbye with a smile in her voice.  I hope she heard the smile in mine as we communicated with masked faces.  My heart leapt a little at this first student interaction, grateful that our first impressions were positive.  

I felt a sense of accomplishment this week when I was able to clear almost two tables of items in the library, and moved the contents of two boxes back into the closet which had to be emptied for HVAC work.  My library director was right--it's like eating an elephant, one bite at a time.  In a way, I'm thankful that school is virtual for the first three weeks, giving me the gift of time to sort this out.

Today is the first gathering of all of the teaching staff, old and new.  It will be nice to "see" everyone in one place, even if on a screen, to get a feel for my new learning community.  I'm heading back into the library this afternoon to get some work done and help teachers check out needed items.  We can do this together, teacher friends! 

Tuesday Slice: And so it begins

Today is my first official workday for the 20-21 school year.  

Some things are the same.  Yesterday I planned my clothes for the week.  I set my alarm for three-plus-a-quarter hours before my first scheduled meeting, then hit the snooze twice.  I am grateful that our activities begin at 830a, like every starting week has been for as long as I can remember.  The dreaded 430a alarm can wait until next Monday.

I am dressed for a walk, hoping there will be time to get some fresh air after writing this Slice.  This is the same, too--reestablishing an exercise routine with the start of school.

Our first obligation is an all-hands-on-deck, all-day librarians' meeting.  That's pretty typical.  

But...instead of factoring in drive time to a district workshop or colleague's library, I'll be booting up my laptop in my study, praying it doesn't crash as my instructional tech support warned me about yesterday via text messages.

I'll be staring, once again, at tiny faces in boxes, hoping that when we separate into breakout rooms that I'll be able to participate--it didn't work the last time I tried.

I will probably find myself slipping into multitasking, popping over to my inbox to answer emails.  I'll turn off my camera to stand up and walk in place, trying to unlock the hips that can't handle more than 40 minutes of sitting at a time.

After a full day on the computer, my eyes will be tired, my brain strained from focusing on those tiny boxes and deciphering delayed, stilted conversations.  I'll miss the usual banter before speakers begin; chat boxes just don't convey the same sense of community for me. 

I get to do this all over again for the next two mornings, sitting in remote training sessions on a new-to-us LMS. I'll spend the afternoons practicing what I've learned, hoping I master enough to be a master trainer for my campus.

I'm still not fully moved in to my new library.  The library itself is still a mess from being rearranged for HVAC and electrical work.  I am worried about making relationships with staff and students from afar.  

Every new school year feels a little chaotic, but it's usually the kind of chaos that can be quantified in a to-do list, the little details that we rush about to get done before the doors open to students for the first time.  This year, the chaos seems more qualitative.  Yes, we have spaces we need to prepare, but they won't be inhabited for a month...or more?  Yes, we will have a student roster, but class lists may change depending on who opts to continue learning from home...or if we all go home, in a shutdown?  The most basic, tangible tasks have all become malleable.

It will truly be one step at a time this school year.  And on that note, there's some fresh air to be had.  Good luck to my fellow educators as we begin a year like no other, hopefully never to be repeated in our careers.

Tuesday Slice: Hitting the road

Why did I pick Thursdays?  Maybe because four days into pacing the confines of my sixteen-hundred-square-foot home during COVID shelter-in-place each week hit some sort of internal limits.  Maybe because Fridays conjured images of crowded roads, people beginning their weekends early, and crowds are a no-go during a pandemic.  Maybe because I had an argument with my husband that first Thursday, and I had to escape the stifling miasma of anger recirculating with every reboot of the air conditioner.

Whatever the reason, I hit the road on June 25th.  I didn't really know where I was going, only that I wanted to avoid major highways and any sort of schedule.  I headed north and east, stopping to take some pictures on roads so quiet, I was often the only driver for miles.

There was such a sense of freedom in that drive; I decided to go out again, the following Thursday, heading south and west this time.

I didn't go as far on July ninth, only stopping to take in the views of Lake Georgetown.  It was really warm outside!

July sixteenth was the trip on which my phone died, then came back to life.  I was driving on the east side of IH35; not much to see except farmland and hay bales, but I am always drawn to wide open skies and horizons uninterrupted by buildings.  I felt I owed the car a trip through the wash after these past few drives, so I treated it to a rainbow sudsing.

Last week's trip was the last Thursday drive of the summer, so I had to make it a good one.  I mapped out a series of back country roads that took me to and around Canyon Lake.  The clouds were spectacular that day!  I got lost a couple of times...or was it just wandering?

This Thursday, I have my first leadership team meeting of the new school year.  My work calendar begins next Tuesday.  Thursday drives will have to wait until next summer.  

I am grateful for a working car, money for gas, and the opportunity to get away.  I credit these hours of focusing solely on the road and the view for maintaining some semblance of sanity, belting out songs with the radio a cathartic clearing of my lungs and my lonely worries.  Here's to the wide open, healing skies of Texas.

Tuesday Slice: When a phone dies

"What are the moments you are holding onto? What are you letting go of today?"

Using today's writing prompt...

The "dangerously full" warning was flashing on my phone.  Ugh, I thought, again?  I've already deleted a memory-eating app and several hundred pictures.  Guess I need to go through the apps and gallery again.  I'll do it on Saturday.

That was Wednesday.

During my weekly Thursday road trip, the phone decided to die while I was posting a picture to Facebook from the shoulder of a country highway.  Oh, well, I thought, I'll get it up and running when I get home.  An hour later at another stop, the phone was fine again.  It worked all day Friday, too.

Saturday morning...I turned it over to find it in constant reboot mode.  After Googling and fiddling and cursing, I gave up.  My kind husband Googled and fiddled, then took it to a repair shop.  Could just be the battery, they said--a glimmer of hope.

Monday afternoon, the phone was back home, still broken.  Not just the battery, apparently.  I'll be contacting tech support later today.

What am I holding onto with this phone?  Thankfully, I downloaded all the pictures to my computer a month ago; the only one I would really miss from these past few weeks is a selfie with my son.  I use my phone to track my walking routes, practice Spanish and Japanese, keep in touch with my daughter in Japan via LINE, time my meditations.  My fitness band syncs with a phone app to record my steps and my sleep patterns; I use another app to track calories.  There are dozens of unmemorized phone numbers of friends, family, colleagues in my contacts list.

For the past few days, I have had to let go of having these conveniences and information at hand.  I am able to continue my language practice and fill in my food journal on my computer, and revisited a folder of meditations I had saved. I have a landline, email, and online social media to stay connected to people. 

If tech support can't fix my phone, or at the very least assure me that my data is backed up, I will have to let go of a month's worth of photo memories, several years' worth of texts with my daughter (was I really going to reread those anyway?), possibly progress (or lack of it, ha!) on my fitness app.

Contact information can be regathered.  Apps can be reloaded on a new phone.  Other than the picture with my son...does anything else on this old phone really, truly matter?  I'll find out soon, but my guess is...not really. 

Tuesday Slice: I thought I was okay

I thought I was okay.  

In so many ways, I am okay.  I have a solid roof over my head and food in my pantry.  My husband still goes to work, and I still have a job.  My adult children are healthy, making smart choices, and staying in contact.  Our air conditioner is working through this 100+ degree Texas summer.  I do the laundry each week, make the bed and empty the dishwasher every morning, drink sixty-four ounces of water every day.  I even shower, and sometimes put on makeup even though I'm the only one who will see it.  For the past few Thursdays, I've gone on road trips just to get out of the house.

See?  I'm okay, in so many ways...

The first clue that I wasn't really okay was my planner.  Every Sunday, I sit and write out what I need to do in the coming week. I don't ever get everything done, but most weeks I can check off at least half of my plans.  These days, the planner is full of plans and woefully lacking in checkmarks.

The second clue was a bag of potato chips.  I was standing at the kitchen counter eating from a bag of BBQ chips (yes, I know how unhealthy this is) and the doorbell rang.  Mail, and not just mail, a delivery that won't fit in the mailbox!  I gathered up the packages on the doorstep and walked out to the mailbox to get the rest of the delivery.  After dropping off the mail inside, I washed my hands and puttered around for two hours before re-entering the kitchen and seeing the open bag of chips on the counter.

The third clue was a frying pan.  Still in pajamas, I decided I wanted eggs for breakfast.  I got out the frying pan, then went to the other end of the house to use the restroom.  While there, I decided to make my bed and take a shower.  An hour later I realized that I hadn't had breakfast, walked into the kitchen, and saw the frying pan on the stove.  

I finally had to come to terms with my current mental state.  Activities that I usually enjoy are being affected.  Crochet projects are lying within reach, untouched.  I can barely read five pages at a time before I find myself rereading sentences, trying to focus.  There are days that I list, out loud, the next three things I need to do, and more often than not I get distracted before reaching number three.  I am racking up Duolingo points (Spanish, Japanese, and now French, because why not?) and computer solitaire games in lieu of much needed cleaning and decluttering.  I finally had to put myself on a no-spend challenge for July, because my retail therapy over the last three months was ridiculous.

I realized that I have been drifting around my house like a ghost since mid-June, when the school year effectively ended for me.  

I'm not writing this to gain sympathy or as a cry for help.  Now that I know that I'm not okay, I am taking steps to feel better--a bit less social media and news, reimplementing daily exercise and exposure to fresh air and sunshine, food journaling and habit tracking to hold myself accountable.  I've accepted my inability to read a lot right now, and gave myself the grace not to book-blog for a couple of weeks.  

I am writing this as a COVID19 diary entry.

I am writing this so that someone else can know that it's okay not to be okay, too.