Inching our way back

This school year has been a series of small steps forward. 

We offered in-person learning for all students. Most students returned to our buildings, although some who found success with virtual learning stayed in our virtual school.

We wear masks. We have hand sanitizer. We limit indoor large group gatherings.

But, we have sports. Students ride our buses. Eat in our lunchrooms. 

Many days I still send “COVID” updates, alerting parents to positive cases. Reminding parents and students to wear masks, that it’s still not over.

But, we can, for the most part, concentrate on being together, learning, together, finding our way - together.

Today though was a big step. 

At 5:30 AM, over 300 Novi Middle School students boarded seven buses heading for Washington DC. On bus 7 there are 48 students and 4 chaperones. I am one of the chaperones - lucky to be included.

I sit surrounded by students, listening to their chatter, watching them eat Cheetos, thin Oreos, Halloween candy. 

This feels like a step forward. 

Oh, we wear masks. We have our hand sanitizer. 

But we are with each other. Laughing. Learning. Being together.

Finding our way

 School started September 8. Today is September 18.

Nine days. It's both gone by quickly and it's been oh so long.

Half my students attend school virtually. Half my students attend school in a hybrid format. Half of the half come to school Monday and Thursday. The other half of the half come to school Tuesday and Friday. Wednesday is a virtual day for everyone.

So school is different this year.

I've seen virtual orchestra.

Athletes wear masks while they compete.

Art supplies go home to virtual students.

My community has been wonderful. The community includes students and parents, but also teachers, administrators, bus drivers, secretaries, custodians, hall monitors, paraprofessionals. We are finding our way.

What lessons can be learned in nine days?

Many perhaps but one very clearly. Public schools matter.

Public schools matter because kids connect with our teachers. Our students need the connection with these adults to help guide them. Our students know so much; they are so very savvy in so many ways. But they need our teachers to give them perspective, to give them insight, to give them a sense that they are capable, to give them confidence.

Public schools matter because they build communities. Real communities. Communities that don't pick and choose whom to associate with but include everyone. Our pubic school communities welcome all who show up. We don't put up walls that include only certain students who think or look or sound like us. 

It is a struggle at times as we try and figure out how to work and talk and learn with each other. Sometimes we don't like each other very much. But we find a way to make it work. 

A community. A place where people are committed to figuring it out.  

It's been a hard nine days. But hard is good. The struggle is important. The struggle means that all of us care. We want to make it work because we know that it is important that connections are built and communities continue to be strengthened.

I am heartened because we are finding our way.

We can find our way

School starts, for my district, in just over a month.

All around me districts are starting to make their decisions on what school will look like in the fall. And no one is happy.

I would hope that we would all agree that no one wants to harm students.

Those of us who work in schools care deeply for the students who walk into our classrooms and into our hearts each day. Our teachers spend six hours a day with these students.

Many spend much more time than that. Coaches, club sponsors, tutors - some teachers are with students eight or nine hours a day.

And there are days when magic happens.

When students see and think and learn things that they never would have without a teacher guiding them, it is truly amazing. And when that happens, everyone - students, teachers, and even Superintendents - understand the power that comes when students are with each other and with a caring and committed teacher.

And parents depend on public schools. To teach content. To teach collaboration and cooperation. To teach lessons that are hard to teach at home.

And schools also provide a safe place for kids. Every single day.

But we find ourselves in an unusual circumstance this year. A public health crisis that started in January, that forced the closure of schools in March, and that continues to linger through the summer has changed the context for this fall. Now, we are not only worried about first days and academics and homework, we are also worried about our health.

What I know to be true is this - we can find our way.

There is no one perfect option. There is no one size fits all solution. There is no choice that does not come with risk and downside.

But the adults have to agree that we can find our way.

Our children are watching us to see how we will travel this road.

Will we talk to one another? Or will we shout instead?

Will we find common ground? Or will we cling to and defend "my" idea?

Will we work together? Or will we fall apart?

I wish I had the answer. I wish I knew exactly what to do. I wish whatever choice was made would be guaranteed to work.

But it doesn't work that way.

Instead, we must agree that we will proceed down the road intending to do what is right for our students and our children. If we must change course, we will. If we must pick up the pace, we will. If we must slow down, we will.

What I know is - together we can find our way.

Thoughts on where to go from here

As a parent you have had to deal with a lot this year. The pandemic. The arguments between people over wearing masks. Now the death of a black man. Protests and then conflict throughout the country.

In the movie To Kill a Mockingbird, Atticus Finch tells his son Jem, “Lot of ugly things in this world. Wish I could keep them all away from you, but I can’t.”

In 2020, there have been a lot of ugly things. 

The most recent example happened in Minneapolis with the killing of George Floyd. 

As a parent it’s hard to know how to talk with your children. 

As parents we want to protect our children. Keep the ugly things away.

I would encourage you to help your children and your students understand the hard, ugly things that we see in this world. Look for clues from your children. Listen. Be honest. Help them understand and process the ugly things.

In my school district, we pride ourselves on accepting people, celebrating our diversity. But the truth is there is ugly in the world. Not everyone celebrates differences. Not everyone believes that someone who is different is equal or worthy or important.

As a parent, as a teacher, as someone who believes that there are things worth fighting for, it is up to us to help our children, our students, learn about the ugly in the world and find ways to make it better. It is our responsibility.

It will be difficult. We’ll make mistakes. 

But to hide the ugly is worse.

While we can’t be together because of the pandemic, we can support one another through phone calls and emails and text messages.

So let’s trust each other. We can help our children. We can help each other.

What teachers do you remember today?

Mr. Robbins was my 6th grade teacher. He was a good teacher. I am sure that he helped me learn the content standards and prepared me for the academic rigors of junior high and high school.

But that's not why I remember Mr. Robbins.

I remember Mr. Robbins because he was kind to me.

In 6th grade I needed a person in my school whom I could count on to be kind to me. And Mr. Robbins was that person.

In 10th grade, Ms. Ely was my English teacher. Instead of letting me coast through my sophomore year of high school she made me do a lot of work. She pushed me to become a better reader and writer. I didn't like her at times because she never let me off the hook.

In 10 grade I needed a person in my school whom I could count on to push me. And Ms. Ely was that person.

Today, the first Tuesday in May, Tuesday, May 5, is Teacher Appreciation Day. Take a moment to remember those teachers who made a difference in your life. Not every teacher I have had has been memorable. But the ones who have been - they were outstanding.

I hope that you can remember teachers from your past that gave you just what you needed. Teachers who were kind or who pushed you or who made you feel like you mattered.

In our district, the Novi Community School District, we have great teachers. I have been in their classrooms. I have seen them in action. They make a difference for the children of our community.

So on this Teacher Appreciation Day , I honor teachers. Thank you for making a difference!

Our students don't just need a device

We are closed.

Governor Whitmer ordered all K-12 schools in Michigan to close beginning March 16. Originally, we had hoped that we would reopen in April.

That fleeting hope was dashed on April 2nd when the Governor closed schools for the rest of the year.

Those who believe in technology have jumped in to extol the value of online learning. Who needs a classroom? Just provide every student a laptop and an internet connection.

Problem solved.

I would disagree.

While it is true that learning can occur online, students need more than a device. 

Students need caring adults in their lives who know them, try to understand them, support them, push them, and care deeply for them.

Our kids don't just need a device.

They need adults - who are not their parents - demonstrating to them that they are worth it.
  
Our Novi teachers do more than just feed students content. They encourage. They motivate. They challenge. They support. They create an environment where students not only learn but also develop a sense of themselves - who they are and who they can become.

And not only our teachers. We have bus drivers, secretaries, paraprofessionals, support staff who spend more time with the children in our district than their parents do. And each of them makes a difference for our students. 

During our pandemic closure, I am doing a read aloud every day. It is hoped that it does some good. The book we are currently reading is Ms. Bixby's Last Day by John David Anderson.

In one passage Ms. Bixby, the 6th grade teacher, tells Topher, her student:

We all have moments when we think nobody really see us.

When we feel like we have to act out or be somebody else just to get noticed.

But somebody notices Topher. 

Somebody sees.

Our Novi Community School District staff - teachers, administrators, secretaries, paraprofessionals, bus drivers, lunch support, hall monitors, tech staff - see. Our staff see our students. They notice. They care.

This caring relationship provides our students with a floor to stand on, to grow from, to become whom they were meant to become.

The process is messy. The process is slow at times.

But people make the difference.

In a virtual learning environment devices are clearly important.

But what's most important during this pandemic closure is to remember that our students need more than a device.

They need us.

Yes, things have been lost

We must admit that we have suffered a loss.

Many, in fact.

Physical.

Grandfathers and grandmothers. Parents. Siblings. Best friends. They have died. Been taken from us by a killer none of us knew about just a few short months ago.

By now we all know of coronavirus - COVID-19. It has disrupted life in ways small and large.

None bigger than the actual ending of life. We grieve along with those who have suffered this loss of life. Words cannot express what they feel, what we feel, how both parties ache.

Some of these losses will haunt those who have lost. They could not be present because of hospital rules and significant concerns about who might be infected. So some of those we have lost were alone. And that hurts and haunts and brings us to our knees.

And there are other losses.

A high school senior year disrupted.

Prom? Probably gone.

Graduation? Up in the air. Almost gone. More than likely altered at least.

The spring sports team? Probably done. 

The final band, orchestra, choir concert? The final dance? The scholarship breakfast? The senior picnic, last day of school? All hang in the balance.

No matter how many people say we will get through this, that we will look back on this and remember the lessons that we learned, what we know now is that we have lost.

So let us give ourselves time to grieve. To ache. To let our hearts break.

It is OK.

We can't stay here forever. At some point we must pick up and move on.

But right now, we can hurt. Don't tell me there is a silver lining, a lesson to be learn, that it is part of a bigger plan.

Just sit with me. Share my pain. Let me know that you care. Let me know that you understand . . . that things have been lost.

Be quiet. Be kind. Be there.