Photo by Georgette Sandoval
Today in my area public schools are reopening. Kids are headed back into the classroom by the thousands. I’ve had so many conversations with educators and parents about what the next several months will look like. The truth is, no one really knows. Everyone has a big opinion, me included, but no one knows.
The prevailing sentiment in my conversations has been a bit of cautious optimism smothered in generous doses of uncertainty. Some are excited. Some are afraid. Some are clueless. And some are just ready for something normal.
I’m confident of this. It can still be an amazing school year. I would dare say this has the potential to be the most incredible year you’ve yet experienced. Why do I think this?
We’ve all experienced what the world looks like when it calls a collective timeout. You lived through it—although many around the world did not.
We’ve all faced what it feels like to be more or less stuck at home for a few months. It messes with your head.
Both are major issues. And you’ve beat them already. Wouldn’t it be a shame to waste the big opportunity this year presents?
Photo by Georgette Sandoval
I’m not a conventional educator. I don’t sit in a classroom all day everyday like the real teachers who are reading this. I teach for two universities. I am doing it all online this term. For a wide variety of reasons. But I am trying my best with what’s been handed me, to embrace the opportunity the best way I know how.
I have 74 students in my care. I am responsible for part of their eduction. It is a responsibility I take incredibly serious. This semester I decided to do something I have never done before. I gave them all my cell phone number.
It seemed like such a simple thing, but when I stopped to think about it—I could only remember one professor ever giving me their personal phone number. ONE. And until March of this year I had rarely done so either. But that’s all changed now. Why?
Because maybe teaching is about more than facts and quizzes. Perhaps learning is too. Maybe it’s about one human transferring a piece of something they’ve been given stewardship of to someone else who needs it. I’ve spent many semesters focused on the theories of dialogic communication, but maybe not enough focused on an actual dialogue—you know—real communication with these brilliant and beautiful young men and women entrusted to me.
They are still going to get their money’s worth, and then some, when it comes to Comms Theories and practicing the mechanics of good public speaking. But I decided to give them something more valuable this semester. My availability.
Guess what? It’s working. I’m four weeks back into my classroom (thanks Google Classroom) and everyday I get a handful of texts from students. I don’t see them as a distraction. I see them for what they are. Another opportunity to make this the best school year ever.
I have no idea what you teach. If you teach. Or where you teach. But I do know this. You’ve been given stewardship of something amazing. You have been entrusted with knowledge, experience, and the opportunity of a lifetime. You have a chance to make this year about more than standardized tests and all the other crap politicians like to brag about. You have the opportunity to do what only you can do in your classroom—you have the opportunity to make it the best school year ever.
Try it. Shift your mind. See the opportunity. Embrace it. Maybe you can’t high five everyone in the hall, but I bet you can out smile everyone. Maybe the setup is a little different. The masks make it seem weird and impersonal. Call the elephant in the room out for what it is.
You only get a short season of influence with your kids. Don’t lose it to complaining, pessimism, and a victim-mindset. Disagree with administrators and leaders about big decisions? Great. You are 100% entitled to disagree. But don’t let it affect the way you embrace the opportunity to help your kids.
The truth is. You won’t. I know that. If you are in education and you stuck around long enough to read this much of my rambling you’re not one of the ones we should be worried about. You’re a Rockstar teacher. So thanks for reading this far. Before you go I have two promises for you.
First, I think we both know this is likely going to be the hardest year in education you have ever faced.
Second, I just want to promise you that there is incredible value and worth on the other side of this hard thing you’re starting today. It’s going to be worth it. It’s going to be the best school year it can be. It’s sure to be hard. It will also be beautiful—as beautiful as hard can be.
Go get ‘em. Thank you for what you do. I can’t imagine where we’d all be without you.