Day #270 Writing Through COVID-19: What I've Learned

Ah, weekend.

It snowed Friday night, which compelled me to hygge in. 

My central event of Saturday was Zooming for an Oklahoma State University oral history project recording interviews with teacher-writers about our COVID experiences. 

As I talked with the interviewer, I distilled the past nine months into my core experiences:

~ Teaching during the final quarter of the 2020 school year.

~ Reuniting with my parents during their 4.5 months living in my basement.

~ Running as physical and emotional therapy.

~ Writing as a way to focus my attention.
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The interview invited me to stand back and note how the past nine months have impacted both my teaching and my attitude toward teaching. 

These were my takeaways:

1) During the optional online learning last spring, my fellow English teachers and I co-taught a Zoom class each day. For eight weeks, we rotated lead-teacher responsibilities and otherwise participated in the reading, writing, and discussion as members of the class. The experience gave us an appreciation of each other's strengths and methods. In my 25 years of teaching, last spring was the best collaborative teaching experience I've had. As a result, I am closer to my colleagues this year, and I am a better teacher. Schools should prioritize co-teaching opportunities. 

2) Students need the grace to learn what they need to learn. As grades and syllabi were tossed out last spring, we were freed to slow down and meet kids where they were at. I'll admit that most AHS students did not participate in our (optional!) daily English Lockdown class. But those who did formed a close-knit circle of learners. They comprised all four grades and represented a range of language dexterity; nevertheless, they shared their ideas and listened to each other as equals--which indeed they were. It was beautiful. 

3) I may have overvalued my importance. This takeaway comes from a fact embedded in the previous paragraph: most kids, given their druthers, did not voluntarily show up to spend 45 minutes talking about poems and language and writing each day. I get it. But with that realization comes a freeing feeling: maybe I can ease up on myself. 

In some ways, I hate to admit this. I'm probably a good teacher because I've constantly told myself that what I do MATTERS. To now say it might not matter all that much feels like sacrilege. 

But recognizing this might also be an opportunity for personal growth. 
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Tomorrow I'll greet my students for the final full week of the semester. 

My left eye is still red and uncooperative. 

I'll be wearing a ridiculous outfit of white leggings topped with a knee-length white dress shirt to show my Winter Spirit.  

I'll wear a mask.

Enough.
Be well.
Write.

Allison

Wolf's first day practicing in his high chair!