Captivate, Motivate, Participate (335)

Captivate your audience

Speak to them as if they know you

and you them

Motivate with enthusiasm

with a fervor of faith

Participate with every ounce

of you

For our gift to the world

effortless and meaningful

is our undivided

Attention

Holiday Window Gazing- Breeze, Bluster, Flurry (334)

These leaves were a message sent from someplace- someplace that recognized I needed a connection. A tether, to allow myself to pull closer to the now. When we feel lost and tossed about, it is a lifeline we need. A presentation of hope. A thread we have to accept and use. For no one can bring us back into the fold but ourselves.

I hardly ever stare out a window for an extended period of time. I always see in movies how people do that- gaze at a skyline or beautiful landscape lovingly- pondering their plight or relationships. Generally its snowing outside, they are sitting in a window sill, hot tea in hand. 

It is a staple in the myriad of holiday films flooding the television waves as of late. Windows, landscape, quiet reflective music = epiphany. It seems hokey but it works.

I do not have a plight- nothing horrible has happened to me personally. I am working through the same tribulations everyone else is. But, I feel a bit lost as of late. I guess I do not feel sad or angry- just lost. Today I stared out my front window, into the street and there was this pile of leaves. I guess a pile is a heavy word, for a light gathering, but nonetheless, it was a pile that became a layer, and then a few. 

The chilly, brisk breeze was tossing them about the concrete. The larger ones scattering, ending up in nearby yards. The medium and small leaves hanging on tight to the formation. Each updraft swirling them and then allowing them to fall gently into a semicircle. 

Almost on cue, every minute or so a dust devil whirled them aloft and a bluster knocked them down again. It was calming to say the least- just watching, window gazing.

Then a truck turned the corner and knocked them into the gutter. I thought my morning gaze was over, but just then a gentle nudge, whether from breeze or momentum, I will never know- slid them back into their position and the cycle began again. 

Medium brown and small red and yellow leaves kicked themselves up and down again, until they fell gently into a semicircle. Sometimes landing upright, others faces down. Dull and then shiny exteriors switching on and off like blinking holiday lights.

I felt like this mental excursion was only a few minutes. But when my hot tea arrived, I looked over at the clock and thirty minutes had passed. I had been lured into natures story for half an hour. I shook off the restlessness and went about my morning activities. 

Then I decided to rest again, same spot, looking to see if the leaves had regained their acrobatic display but the street was empty. The gutter was empty. I felt a ping of sadness. Strange, I thought my instinct to miss these leaves, to miss that moment of gaze.

Just as I accepted my loss, my ten year old opened the door. A whoosh of damp, cold air, flooded in. My hair tickled by the message of fall. He ran into the yard, "Its chilly out here, it feels like winter." As I went to the porch to test the resolve of the autumn westerlies, I felt a scrap on my ankle. I looked down and a few brown, red and yellow leaves settled themselves atop my feet. Attaching themselves to my thick, winter socks. 

Five of them in fact. 

The last five, I believe, I had seen dancing together in the breeze, bluster, dust devil of yore. Having felt my longing, they found their way yo my yard, to my porch and the breeze knocked them into my orbit. 

These moments we allow ourselves, to just stare out a window are important. Letting our mind wander and our visual input, attach itself to leaves being tossed about in the street- can be a graceful opener to our day. 

I have a new found appreciation for the holiday movie window gaze- in fact I have decided to adopt it as part of my daily meditation. I think that emptying ones mind to the sounds and acts of nature and thought is so important. I just tend to do it with eyes shut and quiet. Today I learned that nature wants to be a part of it- needs to be apart of it.

And the leaves....they are a gift you see from nature. For even indoors she remembers to say hello. She remembers to tap us on the shoulder and say look outside- we are all in this together.

The Musical Number of Education: Zoomba Roomba Line (332)

What actually is the difference between a venue of Zoom and physical Room? Quite a lot. There are many things you can do the same, well kind of the same. There are others that you must drastically alter in order for them to fit into a virtual setting. The most important thing however, is not to consider them different. Not different in any way, except the fact of location.

I have been teaching virtually for awhile now- last spring being my launch into a synchronous/asynchronous existence. Classrooms were designed for desks, tables and chalkboards. For student interaction. For having conversations. For building relationships. 

Zoom for quick meetings. Now the two have conjoined into a realm beyond anyone's expectations.

Last spring as we were placed on the treadmills of teaching, we all felt we were losing our identity. That out places of educational exchange, were forever altered. They have been. Zoom is now synonymous with education. With classroom learning.

We also were placed under scrutiny. 

Would children continue to learn? 

Would teachers be prepared to teach virtually? 

Would students attend classes and participate? 

Last spring there was no talk of how challenging, engaging or well-designed lessons were. We were merely trying to construct a platform on which a classroom could digitally be designed. It varied of course with success rate- nationally and globally- but we tried, educators tried with all the muster they had to keep things as normal as possible.

Then we had summer. A season unreasonable and unrelenting. Keeping many isolated. 

This gave time for the educational system to make decisions- to decide- to discover. I think above all else- they discovered the fortitude and dedication of most teachers and educators. Yes, many walked away. There was dissention and a lot of criticism and anxiety. But come fall we stepped up. We planned, we designed, we began a school year.

Many virtually for a set of time. Some now, well into the school year, continue teaching from a computer. And they still are building functional, inspirational settings for children. But, a lot of districts came back, opened their doors, allowed students a choice. Allowed parents to ultimately have a say. They could keep their children at home on Zoom, or they could send their students back into a brick and mortar classroom.

We had most of our district remain on Zoom- but slowly, but surely, students began to reenter the building. Every quarter more and more begin to come back. Teachers are designing lessons for large Zoom, small Zoom, hybrid, Small class, Large class style. Designing lessons that do not fill a quota or just get the job done. There has been a giant shift in the way we think, plan and implement our lessons. There has to be.

Some of us teach both Zoom and Room. Its a juggling act of mask on, mask off. Filled room, empty room. Names on screen, students in seats. It is a pivot that teachers are used to- in fact we expect it. So when we were asked to take a deep breath and go with it. Embrace the sudden and continual shifts of day to day teaching- we did. 

We are dancing, sliding, shuffling in a giant conga line- Zoomba, Roomba line. But, we are not slowing our pace. We are not allowing the music to stop. We are in a loop that one day will slow a bit- but for now is snake like slither with no end in sight.

We adjust, we plan, we tweak, we sit in chairs, walk around rooms. 

We make eye contact on digital planes and physical ones. 

We smile, we teach, we listen. 

We are making sure that every students has a voice. 

We are teachers, and we might not like the exhaustion of the Zoomba Rooma pace- we might sleep more. Shake our heads more in frustration. But we bugger on.

In fact now that our days are musical numbers, we have a little more muster, and a lot more endurance. 

So, we wake up and do it all over again.

Because.....

That's what we do.

Why Educational Jargon is Overwhelming for My Dyslexic Brain (330)

I read a lot. Tweets, blogs, articles books. But, I must be honest, I do not always finish them. I love a great blog- full of emotion and relevance. I appreciate great strategies, techniques, anecdotes. But, after being a teacher for just over twenty years, I am exhausted. I find the high level of verbal battles, word chess and mere influx of new terms and educational vernacular simply overwhelming. 

It seems lately that nothing is defined or explained in simple terms. Everything is wrapped around big words and specific instructions. It has almost become a formula. A recipe with little room for personal touches- because the chef is a graduate from the most prestigious cooking school in the world. Everything is based on perceived talent. Not acquired skill.

This is not a post I am writing to criticize anyone. There are educators who need to write in a certain tone to be published. There are others who have been chefs in their restaurants for decades and their recipes are full proof- they work- but taste buds are a changn'. Ingredients are becoming more difficult to acquire. Pallets change. Minds change. Circumstances change. Little monumentals are no longer about grades and test scores- but growth and connection.

I need something to inspire me. Not a twenty-five page manual of resources. I need a short-story with honest dialogue. Not a sage on the stage perfection (there are many who fit this bill and I applaud every one of them). But I need to see the world of education from a flawed, at times struggling educator who works hard to maintain balance. One who makes mistakes and talks about why their perspective changed. Yes, there are books and articles a plenty that fill this niche. 

But, then why am I still not connecting with most of them. The psychology behind learning is a great tool. But it is a tool. The experience and setbacks are more important. Diagnosing learning disabilities, like Dyslexia are crucial to understanding how best to teach them. But, not all Dyslexics are the same. 

We are each an embodiment of our experiences and as such every student learns differently. At times this aspect is forgotten- main stream thinking takes hold because it feels overwhelming and impossible to make lessons that speak to ever mind sitting in a classroom.

So again here come the big words, the expert testimony. AND, in classrooms new educators are reading endless articles and are feeling lost in the jargon. I am a veteran teacher and I feel lost in the jargon. Especially now that there is a new layer of it. The virtual bubble that has exploded on the scene. This is what you must do to be successful, this is how you have to teach on-line to be successful. But isn't it the same?

I just feel so bogged down with what others expect. What the newest trends are putting out there making our own paths even more distorted. I understand we need guide books and guidance. I just wish it was more used friendly. Sometimes we do not need to read a 64 page manual on how to change our wiper blades- sometimes we need a you tube video showing us how to do it. Sometimes we need a graphic. Sometimes we need to figure it out on our own.

I understand I am probably a single voice in the din of educational speak and teaching knowledge. I know that all the complex, hypothetical words of wisdom mean a lot to a lot of teachers. I just feel such a weight on myself, a load of texts these days- and sometimes I just feel like there is just too much details- too much coming out into the universe in our profession- not written by classroom teachers, not real, honest to good helpful information. Or if there is it is wrapped up in a box of too many ingredients.

I like a great meal like anyone- but I also appreciate the basket of fries and a milkshake. Simple, easy and without any nonsense. Just a familiar, comfort food vibe. I get overloaded easy and when I see a beautiful plate of complicated food- I more often than not- choose the one that reminds me of me. The one that is tasty and satisfying. The one that makes me feel good. 

This is my feeling these days- I need a simple burger and fries.

The Old Adage (327)

"The best time to plant a tree is twenty years ago. The second best time is now."

Is there a formal threshold that we cross over when we finally see the need for change? Are we in a constant mode of fumbling forward- is that our habit? We live in a time where it feels as if we are looking down kicking the pebbles from our path, while the boulder is pummeling towards us. The audience is screaming, "Look up, look up." Will we step out of the way in time? Or is a cartoon crush and splat in our future?

It is a doom and gloom approach I know. Take the positive when ever possible. Cling on to it tightly. But it only takes one open door. We have many slamming against the wood- the house of experience- in the prairie like landscape of our present circumstances. Screen doors banging. Handles giggling. Knobs turning. We are trying to close them all at once and that my friends is impossible. For the storm, brewing, picking up velocity and strength- it is gaining on us.

I am not even talking about the obvious. The trending topic of our days and nights. I am talking about the momentum we are bound to in our profession. The opposition, the gathering troops of finger pointing and distrust. The complacency. The missed conversations about purpose, about learning, about consistency in the lives of our children. We are the screen doors, trying desperately to latch on to close and secure. Yet we are swinging in the sand and blindness of pertinence.

"Be impatient for action, but be patient for outcomes." I see this, I understand these words. But the next line should be- create action, create outcomes. Daily outcomes. Daily challenges. Daily moments of community and learning. It only matters because we believe it to matter. Home or in a brick and mortar classroom- communication, eye contact, listening and inspiring matters.

Surround the problem. Chip away at it. Keep chipping away at it. Hand your students a chisel and let them help you chip away at it. Sculpt a new way of learning. They will tell you what they need. They will show you what they need. So suit up, goggles and mask on, and chip away. Do not just mind the gap, narrow it. Don't just plant the seed, water it. Nudge it along.

The old adage.....what about the new adage. Write it now, write it today. And live by it. 

And there it is... (325)

You know what, don't exit Zoom right at the bell, linger a bit, let students who stay after to talk. Let them tell you stories. It is fascinating to hear their take on things. Create a breakout room and just bring them in one by one- meet with them individually in class. These one-minute check-in's are so important. This is what they are yearning for, what they need. Especially those students who are learning virtually.

I get so locked into a rhythm sometimes that I forget to just breath. The pace sometimes creates a rush where I forget to roll down the window and feel the breeze and smell the petricore. The profession we are in, as crazy as it is, is a wonderful and beautiful world to reside in. Students are each sprouts, springing to life, absorbing knowledge like sunlight. Filling their branches with  leaves of knowledge and social circumstances. They are adapting in such amazing ways to our new expectations of them.

Believe in them. Trust them. Make eye contact with them- all 40 of them on the screen. All 30 of them in a classroom. Take the time to get to know them. Ask them about themselves. They are longing to make connections and feel a part of the world. This is our moment. Our moment to be proud of our profession and make every student feel like a movie star, superhero and genius. Let's get to it. And there it is....

Iron Forges Iron (322)

Iron. Hemoglobin ingredient. Oxygen carrier. A life giver.

Iron. An enigma, it is sturdy and used to manufacture steel.

It also rusts easily. 

Iron refined into 90% of all metal.

Thus abundant. Purposeful. Resourceful.

It fortifies. 

It is an element.

Fe.

Within us is the strength of iron.

We use it in our proteins, enzymes and blood.

Metaphorically speaking, we use it to forge ahead.

It helps make us strong both physically, literally

and

mentally because we use the image of its

endurance to set our mindsets and focus

Iron is elemental, integral and fruitful

For when it reconstitutes the steel

becomes our resolve and this resolve

is why we do what we do

We are educators, teachers, and we are iron workers

we are the iron

we are the steel

Here (320)

Here

Here is where my soul talks to the sky Here is where my spirit aligns with the Earth Clouds vibrate messages from the energy of life- rumble roar Silent resonance Here is where a yellow chair Becomes a ray of synergy

Candy Corn Sky (319)

Candy Corn Sky, Hue of Sweet

Reminding us to steer clear of tricks And veer towards the treats Skies never fib Even when the mood is glib

Prickly Pears Can Overshadow (318)

Prickly forefront often overshadows

The stalwart purple majesty

                                                                     Layers of nuance reflective

Afterglow of a day lingering

                                                                     The thorns are removable                                                                         The river is crossable

We just need to see past the transition of sunset

A Road to Pink (317)

A road to pink

It dances with a child ballerina enthusiasm

                                                                    Excited to take the stage

It extends, rises and engulfs

                                                         Hues and layers folding in like a tutu

Setting the stage for pirouette, plier and relever

The Still, Still Flows (316)

The still, still flows

Gingerly with grace

A blue extraordinary, whispers

A shout of awakening, inaudible

                                                                        But with occipital glory

Remembered

                                                                        

The moment of grace

Sky Speak (315)

 And from the speckles of sky

Came a brilliance

Enhanced

A color speaking to my soul alone

Shimmering to life

A thought of pure imagination

Every Where You Look (313)

Texts and phone calls. They are flooding in these days. 

Emails from school nurses and parents. The vibe, the worry, the reality- is everywhere. 

The virus, has not gone away. It is seeping into the nooks and crannies- waiting for diligence to refrain. Close calls and true calls. This momentum of worry and avoidance, does not always keep us safe. It is not a red or blue wave- it is a colorless, rapid, noxious wave of such deadly force, that we often miss its approach. 

So we are left defenseless on the beach, pounded into the sand, by a heavy deluge of salt and oceanic energy.

As educators we are the spectators in the Godzilla movie- pointing and screaming in awe at the giant force of nature climbing out of the sea. 

We are running trying to escape but we must stop to gather the troops. We must pivot and collect our students- slowing our escape. We are trapped in the rising levels of panic and despair. But, we do not retreat- we stay and hold our positions- an army of teachers who always protect and serve. Doctors, nurses, poll workers, front line supporters, those keeping our food and supplies stocked and available, they stand firm and resolute beside us. 

We are all on the beach, watching the lizard take its stance. It generally ignores the spectators- but its clawed phalanges rip and tear apart anything in their path. We are in a constant dodge and roll to nearly miss the sharpness of its pace. And we wait- for another case, another circumstance avoidable.

As I watch the scatter, I also see the congregation of masses- jubilant at escaping the crush and weight of Godzilla. Sand entering the crevices and sockets. Protection only surface deep. Appearing to be enough. I worry at the next footfall of this beast. Both microscopic and enormous. Sand and leathery skin rising in the midst of reality.

I am cautiously optimistic- trepidatious and eager to move past the dunes and giant food prints of the current situation. I hope that after the monster has retreated back into the ocean, the hoards on the beach are safe. That no one was inside the crushed residences and smashed cities that were left in its wake. That we are able to rebuild and restructure.

Everywhere you look- signs of ascent and descent. Remnants of a hungry Godzilla. These should never be forgotten- they should be used as the plywood and bricks for future builds. Then we will be reminded of the destruction. We might just pause before we beckon the beast back to our shores. We will refortify not to isolate but to carry the weight of newcomers and new ideas. 

This is what we should see happening everywhere we look- soon, very soon indeed.

Grind to Glory (312)

Wheels turn fast these days- spinning and screeching in place- making skid marks. Leaving reminders that we gave it our all. These grooves in the pavement- spurts of growth, progress. Then just as sudden as the spin, a movement lurches us forward. As if we have been pent up with such a force of surrender. Release of the brake, speed begets acceleration and the distance is instant. WE can't even see where we started, only the last turn ahead- so we have to slow momentarily and brace. 

Our brains have been so exhausted: fear of contagion, planning for every contingency. We combine, separate and align- we are constantly rearranging the tiles in a giant mosaic of expectation. Spirits no longer neon flashing attractors, but mud covered signs of highway traffic flow. We are just now settling into the deluge of surface water and road work. We are just now, hands on the wheel, adjusting our speed to the normalcy of the highway. 

Those yellow bumps down the middle, nudging us into our lane. Keeping us safe as we continue our transcontinental haul. We have been pounded by hail, slammed by hurricane force winds- windshield wipers on high, we have barely seen the landscape. And what a landscape to behold. All we have been able to do, eyes forward, hands clenched in complete concentration and focus- is teach, parent, guide and stay in control of our vehicle, of our vessel, of our automobile.

The grind has not stopped, but the screech has. The wheels have not stopped their spin and speed, but our hands, for the first time in years, have loosened their grip on the steering wheel, giving us a moment to stretch our fingers and remove our driving gloves. We are free, to take a deep breath, as we continue our road trip through these tumultuous times. We must keep moving forward, we must remain vigilant- for we do not know how traffic will change or whose vehicle may swerve.

The glory is not a destination. It is the fortitude and gratitude. It is humility and forgiveness. It is unity and empathy. Compassion and growth. It is finding common ground and sturdy concrete and foundational asphalt so more highways can be laid. So more streets, like capillaries can connect us as humans. More medians and center divides for us to pause within- to change a tire. 

This road is a long one. Our travels are just beginning. So load up on snacks and provisions. Get the climate of the car just right. Seat belts on, radio low with some excellent tunes. Then look at a map- do not let the GPS of old guide you in isolation. 

Choose the paper, folded, legend bound map of experience guide you. Let the memory of speed bumps, traffic accidents and weather precautions slow your speed. Let your mind find common ground. Let the well kept side roads, lead you to conversations- give you opportunities tp ask where the nearest this or that is, from a local. Get you out of your car to step on new land, walk into new stores of convenience and witness the glory of something new.

See beyond the dashboard and get out of your car and mingle like a tourist. 

Get comfortable like a resident of the human population. 

We are in this together. All of us. 

We laid this road, added these billboards and guide signs, we created the music for our souls, we designed these vehicles that protect and transport. We are engineers and volunteers. We are educators and learners. We are believers and transformers. Together we will create a bigger map, full of destinations at this time unknown- but soon, will bridge the dots, connect the highways and align into new ways of thinking and better ways to communicate.

Grind to glory- windows down, the breeze is the whisper of the future- just listen, it has an exciting story to tell.

The Subtle Art of SEL- Sometimes We Take it for Granted (308)

It is amazing what happens when we listen. Not just listening for convenience or requirement, but for actual understanding. When we truly care about the topic and want to know more, we sit up and take notice. We engage. We absorb and process. We analyze and structure. We remember.

Sometimes we relentlessly turn our auditory recorders on- every hint at innuendo and subversion grabs our attention. We listen for the nuance, the sudden change in syntax and we hunt for familiarity and promise. When we trust the voice, we engage even more. 

Students are hearing so many things these days. They are like sponges, with constant permeation and soak. They are getting agitated and anxious, like the rest of us. They are harboring the same doubts and worry we are. So we have to keep things light. We need to be the sound of hope and faith. We need to be the voice of reason and aspiration.

SEL as so many of us are discussing these days, needs to be amped up. Sometimes we take it for granted. We assume our students know how to cope with the stress, because they are not acting out. But, for a lot of these students the anxiety is hidden deep inside. We will not know unless we ask. We will not know until we have the conversations and really listen.

SEL can be subtle with just a quick check for the smile- I like to ask if everyone feels a smile or a frown? Then we just talk about emotions and how to be aware of our feelings. Nothing huge or drawn out. But, if we do not take the time to check the temperature of their emotions- we can't help them become more mindful and thoughtful.

We all need reminders. 

We all need guidance. 

But as adults we have, most of us anyway, possess the tools to lead us to more mindfulness. But we needed the reminders and guidance to get us here. We needed someone to help us find our connection to SEL. I know for me there have been wonderful voices of hope on Twitter and fantastic authors, and programs of growth and grace. These guide me every day. These are the sticky notes of mindfulness I find along my path.

We forget sometimes that even though our classes are well-behaved and our students are engaged that they are not necessarily feeling okay. They are often stressed and frustrated. They are often sad and lonely. They are often scared and full of nervous tension. They need us to help them discover why they may have a stomach ache or headache- when all else is healthy. Why they are feeling unmotivated and lazy when they are excited to learn.

SEL is the salvation, the security blanket, the pillow that lifts their spirits. It is the antennae from our youth- just at the right angle to detect the signal. So they can find clarity in the jumble and self-regulate. So they can feel connected when they feel distant and empty. This is our gift to them- listening, guiding and engaging. 

We can't assume they are okay- we have to make sure they are- through conversations and activities. Its self-care. It is personal awareness and self-control. It is finding positivity in times of turbulence. It is feeling good about yourself because you understand how we all impact one another- and that we are all so similar and so beautiful- this is being human and this is the ticket to mindfulness and happiness. 

Red, Blue, Purple- Stir, Stir, Stir (307)

Everything starts with a beginning. A blast, spark or boom. Like money- early stacks scream and later stacks whisper. Ideas, thoughts, opinions all dear and personal- meld into a personality, a character a spirit. What we hear as children, what we witness, what we dream- all shape our edges, they all create the mold from which we design our choices.

There is not a better or perfect. There is not a worse or other, so awful, we must judge with such impunity as to divide. There is not a difference, except how we perceive. What we need- is it being met? Are our basic requirements at the forefront of another's list of objectives? Every human breathes, circulates and digests information uniquely- choosing to absorb, secrete or ingest.

It nourishes us. These movements and assemblages. 

These rambunctious or moments of quiet revelry. These are the times that change us. Calls to action. These are the times that get added to the timelines of the future- studied by politicians, historians and students alike. These will be memorable for more reasons than any one of us can name. And, we are blending, flipping, shifting and unifying- this gyration- and this will trigger the blast, the spark and the boom, all swirling in a bucket of paint.

This is the subtle and vivacious moment where edges are blurred and yet- centers are divided. Division, retreat, isolation- begets more of a spectrum, eventually on which we build our society. In which our civilization becomes more focused on liberty and freedom. Where our spirits might sing different battle cries- but in the end, when the orchestra quiets- we are left with recognition of our cause, a cause not centrist, leftist or right- but just forward, as humans that is where we are always moving.

Even when we fall flat on our face- we are still moving forward.