Sophomore year at DBU

In keeping with tradition, I guess, David and his dad worked non-stop all summer on a big project on his truck, one that took them down to the wire to finish before he had to move back onto campus. When I say down to the wire, I mean, they finished at 1:30 a.m. on Saturday morning, and we left for DBU at 2:00 that afternoon. He and Juan drove his truck with a few big items in the back, while I followed behind with my car packed full of all his clothes and any items that might fly around. 

(They were so proud of their work, they had to take sunset pictures of their completed project.)

At DBU, the dorms are mainly for freshman, and then they have this little town down the hill filled with apartments and townhomes on campus for all of the upperclassmen. Juan spent his last semester on campus in an apartment that he shared with four other guys. David is starting out his sophomore year in a  cute little townhome that he shares with six other guys. I didn't take any pics inside since all the other guys have lived there for awhile, and David was the only one who waited till the last minute to move in--despite paying rent on it all summer. (Which is okay with me--I'll keep him around as long as I can.) But they have a small kitchen downstairs where he can keep his groceries and make his own meals (I see lots of eggs and quesadillas in his future). They have a decent sized living room, and then three bedrooms. David's bedroom is upstairs with a roommate. He was a little nervous about living with six guys, but now that he's been there a week, he said they all get along really well and he already feels pretty comfortable around them. 

He's already had a week of classes, and he said he feels really good about all of them. (Juan David is taking online classes this semester, and we found out they are both taking the same class, though with different teachers. How funny is that?)

He already jumped back into attending a young adult/college age weekly event called the Porch at Watermark Church that he went to as often as he could last year. (A lot of DBU kids attend, and this week he went with his new housemates, so that's cool.) Plus he's working at an Autozone close by the campus, after working at the one right by our house all summer. 

Looks like he's all set up for a good year ahead. Hoping COVID numbers stay down so he can experience somewhat of a normal college life this year. 

Believe it or not, he already came home for the weekend, showing up yesterday afternoon. Apparently he and Mike still had some stuff to do to finish up the truck. So we had dinner out together last night and we will go to church together tonight before he heads back tomorrow. 

Love that kid. 

Teaching in a pandemic--Take 3

 My second year back in second grade after a 5 year hiatus (to teach Pre-K) felt amazing. I loved my students, and they worked harder than any class I'd ever taught. We had a system down that made everyone feel safe to learn at their own pace in their own way. Who knew we'd only make it to spring break together that year, at least in a physical setting. That particular class had to finish out the year at home, meeting with me on Google Meet, finding their own manipulatives to learn at home, and figure out their own structure for how they could learn best. Sadly, as much as I reached out, I could not help all of them in the same way, and not all of them had the support at home necessary to keep thriving. 

What did I take away from that year? To appreciate today and make it count. 

Then came my third year back in second grade. The class that started out the year at home. Teaching during a pandemic Take 2.

We had a bit more structure, they had the necessary technology to "show up" to class, and the majority of parents had some kind of system figured out for this new way of education to work. Teachers had sufficient time for training and also for planning out lessons, making videos, etc. For the most part, other than the disruption of trying to get kids to take a national achievement test remotely, it worked. I enjoyed online teaching, when they were all at home. It also helped that at least half of them already knew me and had a relationship with me, as they were my last class I taught in Pre-K before moving back to second grade. They already held a special place in my heart. 

Then little by little, they started to come back to school. At first, I had about half at school and half at home. Then week by week, another parent felt safe enough to send their child back, and the "face2face" group grew. I felt less safe and more stretched every day, somehow expected to teach two groups of kids without the time to effectively plan out lessons for my virtual students. And having students online stole time and attention to effectively teach the group right in front of me. Two months in, COVID found me and knocked me down, literally, for pretty much the rest of the year. Nine months later, and I'm still recovering. I missed more school last year than I ever have in all eighteen years of teaching, and I saw more doctors in a span of a few months than I ever have seen in my life up to this point--all due to COVID, and also to the fact that the stress and workload put on my as a teacher gave my mind and body no time to recover. Sometimes God sends us into a battlefield, and the 2020/21 school year was my war zone. 

To sum it up, last year's model did NOT work. It stole from every side of the triangle--from the in person kids, from the virtual learners, and from the teachers. And the effects will be evident for years to come. 

What did I take away from that year? Give myself grace. My own health and sanity matter more than being successful at my job, especially considering that my job did not provide what was necessary to be successful, anyway. 

So I spent my six weeks of summer break hanging out on my bike, grabbing lunch or coffee with friends, and making crafts with my mom. Low key, low stress. Barely even thought about school.

And now here we are into my fourth year back in second grade, still in the pandemic. 

Teaching in the pandemic--Take 3. 

All the kids are back. The hallways, classrooms, cafeteria, and playground are full. For the most part, kids are in masks, though it's gone back and forth as to whether or not they're required. I feel safer for everyone when they're in a mask, and I'm thankful that the population I teach supports that. In just the second week of school, at least a fourth of my class missed several days of class due to being sick or someone in the family being sick. I've had to contact parents only to find out they gave their child medicine and sent them on to school. The virus is still spreading. Some schools have less active cases than others. All it takes is one child to come to school sick before several students (and their families) are affected. 

Definitely not ideal teaching. Definitely can turn into a dangerous situation quickly. But definitely better than last year's model. I find myself just focusing on the day, or even on the hour, at hand. Not planning much ahead, not even trying to get ahead. Maybe falling on my face right before school started had an impact on my mindset, teaching me to let go of what I just cannot physically do. But with kids out for a week at a time, I feel like I'm doing a lot of back tracking, constantly having to reteach to someone. And we're only fifteen days in. 

The effects of last year have already become quite apparent. Our kids lack social skills, for sure. Now that they're in such close proximity to each other again, they don't know how to act or what to do or say. They don't ever stop talking, so I finally accepted the fact that my need for quiet moments in order to collect my thoughts just isn't going to happen for awhile. I'm having to give them opportunities to talk and share more within the lesson because they just NEED that social interaction. Fine motor skills and self-organizational skills are several steps behind what they normally would be for their age. Academic skills are all over the place, with some students that absolutely thrived on the virtual model while others very obviously had no structure or support. Now the big push is small group teaching, which truly is the only way to teach right now with so many kids on so many different levels. 

My first two weeks, I could do very little due to my injury from falling. My goal was to make it through the day and somehow keep everyone corralled. Week 3 I finally felt much better, had a lot more mobility, could actually bend over to put some books and supplies away, and I welcomed parents from at least 15 of my students to visit my classroom and learn more about how my class will (likely) run for the year. That parent night always energizes me and reminds me of my why. As I interact with families from Mexico, Honduras, Guatemala, and El Salvador, I remember the dream God gave me as a middle school child to become bilingual someday. I thought I needed to learn Spanish in order to fulfill a calling outside of my own country, but as soon as I came home from studying abroad in college, God started bringing children and families from many nations right to my doorstep. It is truly and honor and a privilege to serve such. a multicultural class by giving them the skills they need to be successful in life. 

As I headed out the door on my way to the doctor last Monday, a Guatemalan student from last year's class saw me, reached into her backpack, and handed me an envelope. Tucked inside, I found the most precious letter thanking me for working so hard to teach her Math the year before. She said, "I keep thinking about you, the best teacher in the world." She has no idea how deeply that letter touched me or how she truly made my day. 

Even in the midst of a horribly stressful year, when I felt so defeated as a teacher, I still made a difference. 

So whether it's Take 1, Take 2, or Take 3, it all matters. And God is still using me and equipping me for the job, or battle, in front of me. 

The year that started with a BOOM

Well, I guess it's normal to say you started the year off with a bang, but in my case, I started it off with a BOOM. Or maybe you could say a THUD. 

I used the first week of staff development to figure out a nice work-out/exercise plan that would keep me in shape and healthy after riding my bike for nearly ten miles every morning during the summer. I tried a few different routes and found several different 1-2 mile walking routes I could take after my breakfast each morning, depending on whether I had 30 or 45 minutes to spare before leaving for work. Then I even came home and rode my bike for another 5 miles to destress just before the sun came down in the evening. 

I enjoyed setting up my classroom, meeting my new teammate, having lunch out with my team, and meeting 17 of my 22 students by Thursday evening of that first week. I got most of the school supplies organized and had all the desks, furniture, and Math and Reading stations set up. I went to an interior design presentation with my mom and learned ways to make the room feel calm by arranging things symmetrically and creating balance. 

Friday's meetings went a bit longer than expected, so I assumed I would stay a little extra that afternoon to get the remaining supplies put away before Monday morning. But not long after I got back into my classroom, they made an announcement that we had to leave the building by 5:00 so the custodians could wax the floors. We could come back on Saturday to finish things up if needed. So I grabbed my backpack and walked down the hallway, out the doors, and across the playground toward my car. 

As I walked, I looked down at my hand and realized I still held a sock eraser that I grabbed on accident. I chuckled at myself, knowing I had way too much on my mind after a long day of staff development meetings and no plans even made for the week ahead. 

About the same time, as I took my next step, my toe somehow caught on the lip of the concrete walkway and BOOM! I suddenly crashed to the ground, falling directly on my chest and arm right onto the concrete. I don't remember even realizing I was falling. I just remember hitting the ground hard and seeing my glasses fall on the sidewalk in front of where I fell, wondering what in the world just happened.

After a second or two feeling stunned, I got up, moved my arm to make sure it wasn't broken, and got in my car to drive around to the front of the building. I knew I needed to report it, but I had forgotten my key to get back in the building. I realized there wasn't anybody left in the office to let me in, so I figured I would make it home and contact the nurse. I drove home trying to convince myself the whole way that I was okay.

But by the time I got home, my whole body started to hurt, especially my chest and ribs. I contacted both principals to get the nurses' number, and she told me where to go if I needed medical care. So I checked in online to see a doctor, but they were unable to get me in that night due to an overload of COVID cases. I somehow made it through the night on tylenol and went in to see a doctor first thing Saturday morning. So much for getting in to my classroom to make any finishing touches before the first day of class on Monday morning. 

As soon as the doc started touching the sore area and saw me wincing, she ordered x-rays. Thankfully, no obvious breaks or fractures showed up, though a hairline fracture would not be evident on an x-ray for a few days. Either way, I bruised my right rib cage pretty badly and needed pain meds, along with orders for very limited activity. No bending, twisting, or lifting anything over 20 pounds. It hurt to take deep breaths, to talk loudly, to try to sleep, to get up and down from chairs, and to walk. So much for my morning 2 mile walks before school. Now I was doing good just to get a shower and somehow style my hair. 

So not the way I envisioned starting out a new school year. Especially after last year and all things COVID. It was like a slap in the face, after all my efforts to better both my physical and mental health this summer. My anxiety level went through the roof on that first day of school. The kids walked in with big bags of school supplies, and I couldn't reach down to help them with any of it. I had to ask those poor kids to lift every item up to my level so i could number it, and then I had to guide them to where to put away each thing. I couldn't even bend down to their desk level to write a quick note, spell a word, or anything. Even if I tried, the pain would stop me immediately. 

Thankfully, they're a really great group of kids and didn't hesitate to help me out. It's kind of like an invisible injury that no one can see, so that made it hard to explain. My best explanation was that I fell and the doctor told me I can't bend down to get anything off the floor or lift anything heavy. Apparently that said enough. :)

Monday I was in quite a bit of pain, but Tuesday felt okay, as long as I didn't overdo it. Wednesday I hurt again for most of the day, but Thursday felt much better. Friday was painful again. I wonder if the days that aren't so painful give me too much confidence, and then I pay for it the next day. I also had family visiting from Pennsylvania for four days this week (that I hadn't seen in four years!), so I didn't get a lot of rest time. I didn't want to miss out on the opportunity to see them and catch up with them, even if all I could do was just sit and talk. I did rest up a lot yesterday afternoon, slept really well last night--despite sleeping sitting up, and rested again for most of the day today, so I am hoping this next week will be better. At least the anxiety of the first week of school has already passed, and I know my kids are more than eager to help me out. Tomorrow I go back to the doctor for a follow up.

So here's to the most unexpected start to the 2021/22 school year, my nineteenth year of teaching at the same school. (In fact, the first student I met from my class happens to be the child of a student I taught my third year here.)

Reading corner

Math corner

Another reading/calm down spot

My own corner

And my main teaching spot