pszcz

Teachers, It is Time For Yet Another Battle

By pszcz | March 31, 2021

In every relationship there comes a time when you have to have an awkward conversation in order to move forward. I have delayed this one long enough. We need to talk about the elephant in the room. Yes, the school year is rumbling towards its clunky end but that does not change the fact that there are still more very serious decisions to make in the coming weeks.

Many of us have been hiding from them. We have been asking ourselves, “Will we or won’t we?” Perhaps we have been denying their existence, putting them out of our minds as we think on other things. We can no longer do that. It is time to talk about them. It is time to acknowledge them and make a plan. Like it or not, they are not going away and we have to decide what to do. Eventually we will all have to face them. Dress pants! We will have to get back into them after putting on the quarantine 19. For months, I have stood at my closet and lied to myself. Appreciating the row of color organized and rainbow ordered career wear has become a favorite pastime. (My closet totally looks like that all the time. Really. Covid or not……)

“I will absolutely be able to get back into every single pair of those,” I think, “even the ones I only wear on skinny days.” I leave the closet with a confidence that can only be rivaled by a preschooler in his favorite superhero costume and go on about my day. The pants stare quietly back biding their time, smug on their hangers and knowing their day will come. They will have the opportunity to attack. When they do, it will be with the organization and fury of the Spartans of old. They will form an offensive so devastating, so complete, that I will later be found by my children wandering in the kitchen, muttering about the need to stock up on low fat vegetables. The kids will shoot each other wary looks, wondering if Mom has finally taken leave of her senses. Recognizing danger, they will back out of the room slowly, with one wary eye on the threat and the other on the path to anywhere else and thus, safety.

Meanwhile, I gnaw on a carrot and sprint for the Bowflex. Upon arrival in the basement, out of breath from my sprint down exactly one flight of stairs, I stare at the great beast. Hands on my knees and catching my breath, my eyes narrow into squinty slits as if I am preparing to fight an age old adversary. Its dust covered, black tentacles still and mocking, Bowflex stares silently back.

“You have finally returned. I knew this day would come” the beast seems to say. We stare at one another for a time. Sizing each other up. If it had feet, we would circle each other like gunslingers in the Old West. The beast has the edge. Even the odds makers in Vegas know my only training in the last 12 months has been from my dining room desk to the kitchen and back. Their money is not on me.

“Although,” I reassure myself, “I made that route several times per day. I may not have hit 10,000 steps everyday, but I had to be close.” There is hope that things are not as dire as they appear. Perhaps the dress pants’ victory is not so sure. My eyes widen with hope and I check the Fitbit app on my phone, in an attempt to reassure myself. It takes a minute because there are several open tabs on my phone, all some version of the game, Candy Mania. After I get those closed I realize I have long forgotten what page I put the fitness tracker app on. The seconds tick by, “Where the heck is that thing? Wait, what does it even look like?” I ask myself.

“AH HA!” I yell, almost chocking because I still have a half chewed mouthful of carrot. “You are in trouble now, Bowlfex. I am about to prove to you and everyone else that I do not need you and that I have been making up for my time apart from you with plenty of steps. Yessir, good old fashioned cardio from the dining room to the pantry. All day, every day!” Pressing the icon is my last chance at victory, but it is a sure bet. It has to be. I wait with anticipation to see the number of steps I have taken on average over the last forgotten months. Absolute proof will soon be available. Just because I have been living in the same basic outfit of black leggings from Target and a Disney World sweatshirt does not mean I have let myself go. Spinning, spinning the program’s information loading. Why is this taking so long?

“Patience,” I remind myself. It has been several what, days? Weeks? Since I updated my app. That seems strange until I realize that recently the only thing I have really used my Fitbit for is to alert me to incoming texts about my friend’s new kitten. She is adorable after all, so playful and sweet. The little black and orange calico loves to play and hunt birds through the window and chase the little red light of the laser pointer.

“I could watch those videos of her for hours,” I smile to no one in particular. I look back at the phone just in time to see the app finish loading and wheeze across the finish line to complete data upload. There, on the screen is the proof. Pupils dilate, pulse quickens, adrenaline pumps. Triumphant music plays in my mind. The battle is over before it began. Victory is claimed as I squeak out, “That’s it? That can’t be right. My device has to be broken!” I hyperventilate as I realize there are no 10,000 steps per day between the dining room desk and kitchen. There aren’t even 1,200 steps per day. And that stupid, dusty Bowflex now actually seems prideful. Seeing me here in my defeat, it actually seems to be gloating. The great beast knew I would return. The great beast knew I would be vanquished. Completely. Bowflex deals the death blow of our battle without losing a spec of dust.

Thoughts of tearing it apart in anger and moving it to the trash race across my mind. After all, gloating is wrong and dismantling it would teach it a lesson. Silently, Bowflex reminds me of one very important fact. It is very heavy and I am now woefully out of shape. In defeat I turn with slumped shoulders to face my truth. I have been ignoring an important relationship. While its victory is complete, so is its forgiveness. Bowflex’s tentacles drop imperceptibly, now ready to embrace an old friend. I put down the phone and the rest of the carrot, wipe off the red and black bench and accompanying black rods, swallow my pride and begin the road back to dress pants and “outside”. The videos of my friend’s kitten will have to wait.

Yes friends, the vaccines and school busses are rolling toward that long awaited day. That day when we have our beloved students in front of us, in person again. The simple good news is we will look out on our classrooms to see why we are there. A sea of young, impressionable faces looking to us to continue to guide them through this, what is hopefully the end game of a long battle. We will be able to smell the musty books, hear the chalk squeak on the boards, and listen to the complaints of our students live, with no zoom glitch. Our hearts will be filled with joy and perhaps our eyes with tears as we walk through our schools again. Hallways will be busy. Lunchrooms will smell like baloney and cheese. It will be right. It will be a glorious reunion with people we have seen everyday for an entire year only in little boxes on our computers. We will prepare with safety measures, we will decide what bulletin boards should look like, we will determine how to best serve our students. And, as we open for in person instruction, we have to face the terrible truth that perhaps we have another battle on our hands. Are you ready for it?

And the Child Will Lead Them

By pszcz | February 12, 2021

All I heard was, “Beep Beep!” and then I felt the blur of breeze as she rode by on her scooter. It was early in the morning, before school. There she was with her sister in the front lobby of the school. They were doing tricks and showing off for their friends. Each friend lined up to try her hand at the prized scooter. They were playing. They were having fun. It was great.

Wait. A scooter inside the school? What the heck? How is that great? She could have hurt someone! How can I have been so irresponsible? I just walked away thinking it was great? I have yet to mention that the scooter was actually provided by the school for exactly that purpose. There was a competition earlier in the week for students who came dressed in the best costume. The prize was the right to travel between classes on a scooter or tricycle for a week. In short, the students who won, won the right to play.

When explaining to her friend that she won the scooter, she replied with the seasoned tease of a long time friend, “You? On a scooter? Are you sure that’s a great idea? You don’t exactly have a great track record with stuff like that.”

Our student’s response? “Wow! Get hit by ONE car and all of a sudden you are labeled a hazard for life.”* Ripples of laughter moved through her assembled classmates. Some laughed so hard they wheezed and had tear stains on their masks.

Yes. They were all in their masks. Yes, there was reasonable distance between them. And they were playing. And it was beautiful. High school students were playing. But didn’t they know we are in the middle of a pandemic? But didn’t they know we are a country divided as never before? But didn’t they know about all of the fights for justice? But didn’t they know that there are people who are hurting? Of course they knew. And they played anyway. And it was beautiful. Laughing, smiling, joking are beautiful things.

Later, in class, we find other groups of students learning about immune systems. Sitting in their masks and separated by plexiglass dividers, or by computer screen, they are working together. It is a smallish class. They are focused on their tasks and getting the job done, fully engaged in the serious business of the day. They are also joking, laughing, teasing each other with an ease that only comes from long term relationships. Including students who were streaming.

Classroom Student says to At Home Student, “Hey, At Home Student! Those tik tok lights make you look like you are in a Halloween movie, pick a different color!”

At Home Student fires back with, “You’re just jealous that my classroom looks like a ‘70s disco and yours looks like a……… classroom!” All the students, at home and in person, giggled and continued to work on molecular recognition and innate immunity homework. Under the masks or behind the screens, there are smiles.

Life in the faculty room looks markedly different. Colleagues are stressed and showing it. Colleagues are sad and frightened and showing it. There is mask fatigue (by me in particular). Although admittedly, I haven’t had to wear any more make up than eyeliner since August since no one can see the majority of my face so, that’s nice.

There is general malaise from being cooped up. When Colleague mentions she went out to a restaurant, the response will either be unbridled envy of being able to eat something Door Dash didn’t bring or concerns about the potential ramifications of it all.

There is stress from not being able to run our classes the way we know is best under normal circumstances. When Colleague occasionally mentions she managed to run her lesson as planned AND it was a rousing success the response in the faculty room resembles the wide eyed wonder of when a four year old says, “Tell me the story again, Mommy!”, as if our teacher just spun a tale of unicorns and fairy dust.

Colleagues are trying their best in the grand scheme of things, trying to keep the big picture in view; curricula, benchmarks, health and safety of adults and students. My colleagues are all working very hard to keep things as normal as possible while admitting things simply aren’t normal. We are working under impossible circumstances in an ever changing whirlpool of chaos. Changes and uncertainty at work swirl around us everyday, lurking just out of sight and threatening to destroy a lesson we have already changed 942 times in order to fit the “latest guidance” and the “latest schedule” like Godzilla destroyed Tokyo. We try our best to be the anchor for our students, not an albatross. Adding to our bedlam tapestry, at home, we all have our own family worries; parents who are sick, kids who are fearful, friends who are struggling. It is a lot.

Students have a lot too. They have concerns about parents. They have concerns about sick friends or friends that have seemingly vanished over the last year. Or they may feel they will never be allowed out of their ’70s disco again. They have concerns about many of the same things we do. And they have less control over those things than even we do. They are still playing. In many cases, they have become the anchor for us. They are choosing to laugh, many of us are choosing to focus on all the stresses of life and not the little wonders of a scooter or tik tok lights.

* She’s fine.

Parents, It Is Time……

By pszcz | July 15, 2020

I get the question almost everyday. What will school look like this fall? As a teacher, many of my neighbors and friends think I have some inside track on the plans of not only the district where I work but the schools all around us. Apparently there are some super secret, back-room meetings teachers can enter if they knock twice and use the right password when the principal opens the little eye sized slat in the door to check the legitimacy of the knocker. Also this would indicate that teachers operate under a system very similar to the rum runners and speak-easies of times long since forgotten.

The God’s honest truth is, if that teacher meeting speak-easy exists, I have not been admitted to the super secret club. I have no idea what the fall will look like. What you know in that regard, is what I know. Unfortunately, that means we don’t know much of anything. Sure, pediatricians across the country are encouraging schools to open. So are many elected officials, so are many parents. Of course, there are many people who are fearful about the prospect of schools opening. Yes friends, we are in a tough spot right now.

What I do know for sure is that there will be school. In one form or another, kids will be “attending”. That could mean in person, that could mean online, it could mean both. What I also know, both as a teacher AND as a parent is this, parents have a very important responsibility to perform before school opens. It is time to lovingly remind our youngsters that society works on a number of standards and niceties. In short, WE MUST RE-SOCIALIZE OUR CHILDREN! Everywhere I look (mostly my own dining room and neighborhood), there are signs that our children are going feral. Don’t misunderstand, I don’t think we are quite at Lord of the Flies level, but if left unchecked, the beginning of the school year, wherever that may be, could be really rough one.

I don’t say this lightly. I have months of extraordinarily scientific and longitudinal studies of purely anecdotal evidence compiled by myself, colleagues, and friends. This compilation was completed and totally peer reviewed by other colleagues and friends, who upon looking at our evidence said, “Spot on”. If that isn’t a ringing endorsement, I don’t know what is.

What is my evidence you ask? As any good researcher, I present my own children first. I have two daughters. For example, we don’t have a lot of rules in the house about where they can eat. Frequently snacks end up in their bedrooms. In the past, (pre-rona), the dishes would end up on the night stand next to the bed and would make their way back down within a few hours to get loaded in the dishwasher. That is not standard operating procedure during corona-cation. Frequently, we will find our subjects in the kitchen at midnight, digging out the now rationed chicken nuggets and popping them in the microwave. While they wait, they perform the latest Tik Tok dance because after all, midnight is now the time when they are most able to perform. The timer goes off. The girls get their nuggets out of the oven, my husband and I get up and begin preparing for work, unaware that it was the microwave and not the alarm clock. We pass on the stairwell, them walking up to their rooms, mouths filled, leaving a trail of breadcrumbs behind that will remain on the carpet until I break down and get out the vacuum sometime next week; us, heading downstairs to make the morning coffee. When realization dawns, we are frustrated about being out of bed. Our girls are simply confused about the whole situation as their teenage brains have not developed the ability to comprehend the fact that old people tend to sleep at midnight and that noise will wake us up. So, off we all go, back to our own bedrooms.

It is now morning. Technically this is true but since it is almost noon, one could make the mistake of thinking it much later in the day. Our subjects are just beginning to stir. They stumble down the steps with chicken nugget breading embedded in their gorgeous faces because they fell asleep on the plate while watching, you guessed it, Tik Tok. My old person brain is now more fully functional and is able to attend to their actual conversation. Much like a linguistic anthropologist (I promise, this is totally a thing…https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Linguistic_anthropology ), I am now able to study the teenage girl in the wild and observe in real time the development of a new language. I call it, “Meme-ish”. You see pre-rona, my daughters spoke English, studied Spanish in school and had a vague familiarity with Polish. Over corona-cation, “Meme-ish” developed with a mighty speed not unlike that of the changes brought about by the Renaissance or the Industrial Revolution. They are communicating in the kitchen entirely through memes. This new language is fully understood only by them and the few teenagers in their Snapchat circles.

This phenomenon is not specific to teenage girls. There are multiple stories of young children who are fluent in PJ Masks but no longer conversant in English and teenage boys who speak entirely in video games. Parents and care givers are stumped when the youngsters are forced to the dinner table and they begin to relate stories of their days. The look of confusion on the faces of the parents and care givers is entirely lost on the youngsters as they are not used to any form of communication which is not in the form of a “thumbs up” button.

The hours our teens keep are not unusual either. Parents across this great land of ours are regularly awakened by microwave alarm clocks or kids playing Assassins Creed at 3:00 AM with their “friend Kenneth”. The following scenario has occurred more than once.

Parent: “It is almost 11:00 PM, finish your game and head up to bed.”

Child: “OK, I will be up soon.” Parent heads off to bed, trusting Child will do exactly what Child said he would do. Parent settles in, drifts off to sleep and begins to dream. The dream begins innocently enough, Parent is walking down a city street, enjoying the day. Then, yelling can be heard from a distance. It grows louder and more desperate. Parent dreams that Child is yelling, in danger. The dream turns into terror as Parent desperately looks for Child in Dream City. Child is nowhere to be found. Explosions are heard, gunfire in the distance, voices are louder now, more threatening. Heart thumping, head pounding, stomach sick from fear, Parent wakes.

From the basement, Child can be heard yelling, “Work in the dark to serve the light!” Parent, now fully aware, and fully irate at the fact that,

1. Child woke Parent and

2. it is now 4:00 AM.

Parent, who is entirely rational at this point storms down stairs, yells something unintelligible to Child, marches to the game, rips the plug out of the wall, and stares at Child. Child, dumbstruck, is completely confused by the actions of Parent and stares back.

Child speaks first, “What did you do that for?” Thankfully, Parent is now fully present and absolutely in control of their actions so Child is in no real danger of witnessing what scientists refer to as “a fit”. Child heads off to bed grumbling about “parents who don’t understand” and “I never get to do anything in this prison….”

The previous episode leads us to our last piece of totally scientific and completely anecdotal evidence. I present to you the development of “attitude”. In very young children this manifests as more tantrums and foot stomping. Presumably this is due to frustration at the fact that they are not going out into the world as much and are unable to explore and develop emotionally and socially. They have had fewer interactions with friends who are not PJ Masks than normal. In the pre-teen and teenage youth, “attitude” has been able to develop unchecked by the normal limiting factors of summer leagues, camps, and jobs. In these children the unchecked “attitude” will present itself with the following symptoms: heavy sighing, slamming, pouting, eye rolling loud enough to be heard next door, simple irrationality, and a general, palpable disdain for all things parental.

Should these symptoms appear, now is not the time to contact your healthcare professional. It is also not the time to blame your spouse because they are busy looking busy. Besides, blame probably won’t help right now. Trust me when I tell you, I know from experience you are doing your level best to keep your child on the straight and narrow to guide them through this unprecedented and unusual and historic and unique and challenging time. I also know you are probably ready to pull out every single ridiculous threat your parents ever threw at you in order to find some semblance of normalcy and balance in your homes. I submit that now is not the time to pull out, “Because I said so”, unless you are dealing with simple irrationality. In that case, that really is your only weapon.

No, truly now is the time to take a deep breath and remind yourself how much you love your child. Remind yourself that no one on earth can love them like you do. Then, dig down deep and start the process. Every kid will be returning to school in some form. That means a re-entry into society in some form. Kids need to relearn that the world really does work on a schedule, and that schedule does not begin when they feel like getting out of bed. Kids need to relearn that sleeping with a plate full of chicken nuggets is not generally best practices. Kids need to relearn to use standard English because I promise you, most teachers don’t speak Meme-ish or Assassins Creed or PJ Masks. Those languages would be frowned upon during day to day communication, not to mention formal essays.

Finally, you must confront the “attitude”. It is a dread beast indeed, but it must be vanquished like the dragons of yore. When the beast rears its ugly head, you must not cower. You must not run in fear. No, you must put on your armor, weaponize yourself with the willingness to confiscate phones and shut down internet access, or, where appropriate send the dragon to time out to think about what it has done. Do not fall to the temptation to negotiate. Do not fall to the intimidation tactics of slamming, foot stomping and eye rolling. That is a rookie mistake. You are not rookies. You have been around the socialization mountain before. You did it once, you can do it again. We teachers are counting on you!

To My Students: I Won’t Be Offended.

By pszcz | June 2, 2020

Here we are. Summertime. School is out, the weather is warming, the sun sticks around a little longer. It is the time of year when we all retreat to our separate little corners of the world and live all of those things which make us look forward to the word “summertime”. This year is definitely different, with all of its uncertainties we feel like we are trying to build a house on shifting sand. There are so many unanswered questions.

First there are the questions about normalcy. Will the pool open? Can I go to the mall with my friends? Will I be able to play baseball this year? Next come the questions about the bigger picture. Are bills being paid? Are my friends and family ok? When will this end?

Then of course, we need to add to all of those questions the fact that different people are looking at all of this very differently. Differing views over how to handle the virus and our various states of “lockdown” are costing some people life long friendships. Emotional exchanges are happening between usually level and calm people. Adults, who should be exemplars of behavior for you, are so stressed in ways that are unfamiliar to them that they are behaving in ways that they will be ashamed of in the future. If our world’s current situation had a smell, it would be “EEEEWWWW”.

Unfortunately, you have less control over things than even we do, and we don’t have much. Yes, I can go into all of the motivational quotes; “Attitude is everything”, “Hang in there Baby”, “When you get to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on”. I mean, they all make sense. They must be true because they are on a poster after all. No one questions the wisdom of the motivational poster. That simply is not done. There would be real anarchy in every classroom across this great country if we started to question the poster wisdom.

I can see it now, young, innocent Timmy raising his hand to ask a question, “Mrs. Nerdleblank, is attitude actually everything? I mean, everything?” The class looks on, slack jawed at the audacity of such a question.

“Yes Timmy. Yes it is. Also, you should go to the office for even thinking of questioning the motivational poster. This is something for which I will not stand.” Timmy slowly stands and begins the long walk toward the office, knowing he is in real trouble this time. It is not the first time Timmy has questioned the wisdom of the posters. He fears the worst; a phone call to Mom. That means real trouble indeed.

So to keep us all out of the proverbial hot water with the poster police, let us assume that yes, attitude does matter in this and all circumstances. It is also really tough to keep a positive attitude all of the time, especially when everything in the universe seems to be having meetings in some dingy back room somewhere in order to conspire against you.

Let me assure you that teachers are having similar struggles. We love summertime too. We love the long sunlit days and getting more sleep. After all, summer is the time when teachers entirely stop thinking about classes and lessons and anything to do with work. It is when we leave to go on our around the world cruises or move to our beautiful mountain homes to get away from it all. It is when we hit the town in our limos and party until dawn. No, wait, that’s not us. I am not sure who that is, but it’s not us………Anyway, the point here is that teachers don’t have limos. We should though. That should be put into our next contract.

The other point is that we are struggling along with you in all of the uncertainty. We know many of you do indeed feel like you are standing on shifting sand. Many of us feel the same way. We know many of you have real worries and concerns and are fighting some serious dragons in your own lives. On top of all of the worries is yet one more: the worry of offending someone. What if you think you are doing the best you can and someone is offended by it because what they “think is best” is different from what you and your family “think is best”? It is enough to make even the most level headed among us lose our cool.

To that end, let me say this to you, my students, whom I adore. As summer comes and we head to our own little corners of the world, restrictions on our movements due to the pandemic are being lifted. If I am not in my mountain villa and we do run into one another, I promise you that I will still see you as one of my students, whom I adore. I promise that I will believe you are doing your best to navigate all of this. I will not be offended if you forgot to put on your mask, or if you remembered. I will not be offended if you stand a bit too close in the store. I will not be offended if you back away a bit because you think I am standing too close in the store. I will not be offended if you think we should handle our nation’s situation differently than I do. Lastly, I will not be offended if you spot me out running errands and hide from me, because let’s be honest, you would have done that one anyway.

Unusual Times Show How Much We Genuinely LOVE Our Jobs…

By pszcz | May 11, 2020

During this unprecedented time of unique challenges of everyone being all in this together but completely alone and in the same boat except that some people are in yachts and some are on the little floating door thingy that Rose from Titanic totally bogarted from Jack because we all know there was plenty of room on there for him so he ended up freezing in the Arctic waters of the storm of corona, I have learned a few things. The first is that Rose was not all that nice.

The second, and perhaps more important thing, is that I love my job. Truly, madly, deeply, as the song goes. I love my job. Over the last eight weeks I have done what many other teachers across the country have done. I have tried to figure out how best to help my students, how to continue to deliver content and not simply have them review, review, review. I have tried to figure out how hard to push them, how much to excuse, how best to keep them engaged. I have made hundreds of decisions about what my virtual class will look like. Not all of the decisions have been the right decisions. They haven’t all been wrong either. There were days where I was more complacent about what was happening in class and days when I was vigilant. There were nights when I lost sleep over one student or another and whether she was ok or not. There were days when it was so overwhelming I didn’t want to think about it at all.

None of this is unusual. Teachers all over the country are doing the very same thing. I am not special in any of that.

To be sure, every teacher had a different experience just as every student has. The Mrs. Nerdlebaums and Mr. Titleborns of the country all have different perspectives and different issues to consider. Some have to worry about very young students who were in the process of learning to read and do basic math. Those teachers have to figure out how best to help them continue to do just that. Other teachers have to think about seniors who have literally been robbed of their senior rites of passage and are emotionally devastated by it. Somehow, they have to convince these almost adults that they should continue on with their Pre-calc lessons when it just doesn’t seem that important.

Couple those concerns with the fact that students are not, in fact, “all in this together”. Each student has his or her own problems, worries, and fears. Some have parents who have lost their jobs and for the first time ever are unsure of where the next meal is coming from. We want them to worry about handwriting. Some students have severe asthma and they are terrified to go outside. We want them to pay attention to a history lesson. Some students miss their friends so deeply that it is keeping them up at night. We want them to worry about diagraming sentences. Don’t misunderstand, they should worry about these things. Handwriting, history, proper grammar and structure are all important things. Good teachers know one more thing, though. We know they are distractions from the worries of the day. We know that when students are engaged in our lessons students are less likely to be worrying about hunger, asthma, or desperate loneliness. So how best do we continue to deliver our curricula and be the saving distraction for so many of our students? Even as teachers and students think about all of these worries, we are also now thinking about the end of the school year.

Normally at this time of year, teachers are scrambling to cram in content to finish the curriculum. We are contacting parents to make sure the end of the year details are in place. We are having conferences about where students should be placed and how best to serve them next year.

Students are thinking about the fact that the clock is actually moving BACKWARD! Summer break seems to move further away between the beginning of the day and the end. The final days and weeks stretch like the never ending chewing gum someone tries to pull off a shoe. Students worry about their final grades and begin asking for extra credit (no, you can not invent some ridiculous 4 paragraph assignment when you haven’t bothered to complete the 8 assignments still outstanding from the beginning of the semester). They have trouble keeping their thoughts on their 900th algebra problem of the week when the bright warm days of summer are so close at hand. Students think about the sun on their faces, warm breezes and afternoon ice creams, long boarding to their friends’ houses, playing in sprinklers, amusement parks and summer jobs.

Not this year. This year, all any of us can think about is what summer will actually look like. Will there even be a “summer” in any normal sense of the word? We all hope so. None of us know. What we do know is that we teachers love you, our students. This came home to me in a big way this week. When we left school in March, we all just “left”. Students and staff were directed to take home whatever they thought they would need to continue to work. All of the textbooks, iPads, chrome books, all of them went home. What did not go home were locker posters, mirrors, markers, snacks (gross) various gym bags and clothing, basically anything that can be left in a locker, is still at schools across the country. There is a certain ghost town feeling about it all. All of the belongings were seemingly abandoned in a hurry.

Normally there would be a “desk clean out day” for the little ones or a “locker clean out day” for the older students. This day is always filled with gleeful chaos as the students pull things out that they haven’t seen since the first day of school. Suzie will pull out an all but forgotten hair brush she just had to have at school. Tommy produces a calculator that has been lost since Christmas. Jenny pulls something out of her locker that used to be an apple. The now shriveled and fuzzy article will engender roars of laughter and several shrieks as she walks toward the giant trash can that only appears on these end of school days. Students then stand by their desk or locker as clipboard laden teachers walk past for inspection. Excitement builds as students return from their newly cleaned and de-grossified lockers to their classrooms. Summer is almost here! Everyone is almost free.

That’s how it should go. That is the way the good Lord intended, for sure. It is a rite of passage for every student. A clean locker at the end of the year is a symbol. It is the manifestation of 180 days of work. It means a movement to the next level. That is not what is happening this year though. This year will look like some weird Hollywood version of an old fashioned hostage transfer and ransom drop in a Western movie. Students will come through wearing masks to get the stuff which has already been cleaned out of their lockers and placed in bags for them. As they approach the adult who has control of their locker loot, masked students will extend and arm (gloved, of course) to show they have the ransom; the school’s property. The two parties will each carefully check their merchandise and then, when the transaction is complete, they will slowly back away from one another. The sound of old timey Western music plays in the background. Tumble weeds will blow by, even in climates where they don’t exist.

AND I CAN’T WAIT! I am so excited at the prospect of seeing my students that I don’t even care that I will be dressed like some bandit from a soundstage and will be gloved like a surgeon about to go to remove a pesky appendix from a middle aged Karen. I want to see the faces (ok, eyes) of my students. I want to hear the excitement in their voices as they fill us in, even briefly, on what has been happening with them. I want to hear them as they greet their friends for the first time in eight weeks, even if it is from a distance. I want to be there as some tiny little bit of normal comes back, even if it is fleeting.

Truth be told, I had no idea how much this would mean to me until the main office requested teachers to help in the ransom drop / hostage transfer that will be this day. I simply could not reply to that email fast enough. My fingers tripped over each other with excitement at the prospect of getting back to the students and the building where I belong. There can be no doubt that other teachers feel the same way. Scenes like this will play out all across this great country of ours. These scenes will no doubt be filled with laughter and love and tears of joy, hearts will fill to bursting at the prospect of this. I know this is true. I know because mine is full. I know because I am not the only teacher who loves her students and her job.

To Our Students, We Are Missing You Right Now…..

By pszcz | April 20, 2020

We are missing you right now

You are home. We are home. Some of you are simply “off” for a few weeks. Some of you are engaged in “distance” or “remote” learning. It is tough right now, for sure. There are unanswered questions like, “When do we get to go back and see our friends?” “Will we have to make up all these days?” “Am I going to catch the corona virus?” “Can I get away with having a snack during our google meet or will I get yelled at for eating in class?”, “When I go onto said google meet to connect with my teacher, is she actually wearing pants?”

A lot of very good questions indeed. I can answer a few of them. First, we don’t know what is going to happen either. There’s no play book for this one. We are making it up as we go along and trying as best we can to figure things out. We know you want to go back to school, even if it is just to see your friends. Your parents want you to go back to school (trust me on this one, they REALLY want you to go back to school). Your teachers want you to go back to school. (seriously, we do!) We wish we could give you a date, provide you with a countdown calendar of sorts. We can’t. The best we can do is follow what our national and state governments are telling us.

Will you have to make any of the days up? Some of you are continuing with your lessons online, so probably not. Some of you are not continuing your lessons, you’ll have to check with your state about whether you will have to make them up. If you do, how bad can it be? I mean, consider how bored you are right now. You are bored enough to be reading this, so, I mean, you are BORED! How bad can sitting in class be compared to this? Sure, every time Maddie sneezes, everyone will jump and want to spray her off with Lysol, but that is to be expected. Maddie always sneezes. Why is that? What is it that makes this kid sneeze so much? Is she allergic to air? What the heck? And for the love of God, haven’t we all learned through this to cover your mouth when you sneeze? She just lets those things rip! If I were sitting within 6 yards of her I would go in there looking like I was ready for a deep sea dive, wet suit, mask, SCUBA tank, the whole deal. I mean, it is gross enough that you all hack and sneeze on desks, then put your papers on those desks and then hand them in to me. Now I have to contend with Sneezer Maddie? She is like a sneeze ninja, she gives no warning sign of those things coming at all. It’s not like they are quiet either. For goodness sake, last time she sneezed in class, Mrs. Nerdleblank, the science teacher down the hall said, “Bless you.” SCUBA gear, definitly.

So that takes care of if you will have to make up the days in the summer. What about, “are you going to catch the virus”? Honestly, I don’t have an answer for that either. I know it sounds really scary sometimes. I also know that I am in no way a doctor so the best I can tell you is that you should follow the advice of the professionals around you. Seemingly simple things like washing your hands and sanitizing frequently touched surfaces will go a long way to protecting yourself and those around you from this virus. As rough as it seems, perhaps it is wise to do as our Surgeon General of the United States, Jerome Adams, says and “Stay away from Nana and Pop Pop.” Nana and Pop Pop, how cute is he? Here is this man who gets up on TV, trying to talk to multiple generations across all walks of life about how to protect themselves from this bugger of a virus and is so charming and relatable that he just brings us all together with the fact that we all have Nanas and Pop Pops. Oh, and he is totally brilliant too. We should probably follow his advice.

So that about does it. We have no idea when you will be back in school and you should wash your hands and probably clean your rooms. Remember that we really do miss you, love you, pray you are well and happy. Hang on as well as you can and remember this will not last forever. In the meantime, try to make something in your environment better; clean it, rearrange it, decorate it.

OH MY GOSH! I almost forgot! We still need to talk about snacks during google meets and whether your teacher is wearing pants. Yeah, you can probably get away with snacks, just brush the Cheetos dust off your face before you turn your camera on. As far as pants? No. Well, sort of. She will have leggings or yoga pants or sweats that are older than you on. Even if from the shoulders up her make up is done and her hair is well groomed, like an iceberg, you only see the tip………..

We Really Do Love Our Students. Usually

By pszcz | April 16, 2020

We Really Do Love You. Usually.

Any good teacher is there because of the students . Sure, the $143.00 a week is nice too (a salary crack already? Yes.) but it really is for the kids. Whatever age group a teacher teaches, she is there because of the kids. We can’t help it. We love our kids. You become our kids. You become the reason we get up at the ungodly hour of 5:00 AM so we can be there before you. We see you when you are sad, we notice when you are happy, we pull for you when you are facing a challenge. We cheer for you when you reign supreme.

This goes for every single student. Every single day. Except some days. Like every day the sun rises. The truth of the matter is, under it all, we love you. The truth of the matter is also, there days where you can be a plain idiot. (You know who you are). The thing is, we have already heard the hilarious noise you can make with your armpit, especially if we have been around long enough to have taught your father. Also, that noise is disgusting.

That doesn’t mean we don’t love you and pull for you. Yes, some days we fantasize early dismissal days because you left class early and we LOVE inservice days because, well, you aren’t there. Those days would only last for so long. We would get dreadfully bored. We would miss you. Actually, over the summer your teachers miss you. Through it all, arm farts included, we miss you.

We Really Do Want You To Succeed. Always.

Your teachers really do want you to succeed. Not just because it makes us look good, either. We want you to succeed, no matter where you came from, no matter where you are headed. Remember, you become our kids and we love you. We see you filled with fear and nervous butterflies before a big game or dance; we see the unabashed confidence of youth as you stare down the road into your future and your dreams open up in front of you. You give us hope. When the time finally comes and you arrive at your graduation ceremony, you think, “Wow! I did it! Now what am I going to do?”

We think, “Dear God, if I have to sit through one more graduation speech, I am going to lose it!” Seriously though, your ceremony is beautiful and the most perfect ever devised by anyone who didn’t live on Mount Olympus (go ask your history/mythology teacher). Also it is pretty much the same as every other speech ever given at a graduation ceremony since the ceremony first began on Mount Olympus. Except yours is better. And we are proud. You did it. While you celebrate with your friends and family, sometimes we are there with you personally, enjoying the parties and praying that no one there gives anyone under age alcohol because we don’t want that to blow back on us. Even if we are not at the parties personally, always we are with you in our hearts.

Success doesn’t only appear at the graduation ceremony however. There are many little successes everyday. These are often what keep us coming back everyday. Personally, I love to see a student who has been struggling with a difficult concept in economics finally understand that Stan Lee is a maniacal genius. I mean, for crying out loud, who designs a “universe” that ties in multiple movies where not only does it make sense that “Gods” from Asgaard, highly trained assassins, lab experiments turned super cute super hero frozen for several decades, another lab accident turned giant green anger machine, and Robert Downey Jr. all get together and take orders from a one eyed man who doesn’t trust anyone but also convinces us to part with literally dozens of dollars in going to see these movies. Seriously, Robert Downey Jr. is adorable. Also, once the students understand this, economics doesn’t seem so hard. When you students are wiling to challenge yourselves and work through a difficult concept, good teachers will help you. We will cheer for you and we will continue to silently pray for you on test day.

Teachers Have a Great Job, But There Are Things We Can’t Say……..

By pszcz | April 16, 2020

Everyday, thousands of good teachers go to work to teach the children of the nation and to change the world. We waltz through our days with smiles on our collective faces; beautiful little birds tweeting about the room, flowers in full bloom, harps playing and angels singing. Our students, bright and shiny and eager to learn greet us at the door, well rested, groomed, fed, and prepared for another day of learning. As their minds open to the tremendous value of cultures long ago dispatched to the annals of history like the Phoenicians, the Babylonians, and the Clevelanders, you can hear the greats being played in the background, Mozart, Bach, Clapton. (It is a well known fact that listening to Eric Clapton makes kids infinitely smarter.)

When the day is over, students file out of the room in a controlled rush that resembles Black Friday deals on 60 inch LED TVs. As they sprint past us, they thank us for imparting such knowledge as will change the course of their lives. Ok, some of them grunt at us as they leave. A few even make eye contact but we know what they mean.

After school our students enter many different worlds. Some go home to loving families who eagerly await their arrivals, some will go to less stable homes. Others, when they are old enough to work, will begin internships to gain college training, some go to jobs where they will engage in important career training. They learn things like:

other people’s children are often as easy to care for as a hungry wolverine
grown adults, despite being grown adults, are not always pleasant when ordering food at a drive through
you can get a great tan life guarding, providing you are life guarding outside

Still other kids will be engaging in what we like to call “extra” or “co” curricular activities. These are often activities that students engage in at an early age, perhaps as young as first grade, in order to learn how to:

work as a team
enjoy the company of others who hold a common interest as the student
gain a greater depth of understanding of a particular topic or sport
endure the maniacal rantings of people on the sidelines (we often call them “cheering parents”)
learn to become strong in body and mind as they compete in what appears to be a rebirth of the Roman Circus
most importantly, pad their resume in order to become President of the World Council on Everything

As teachers, we have a wonderful job. It is a privilege. We get to change the world. As with many career paths, teachers have to take the good with the bad. Also as with many professions, there is A LOT that teachers want to say but can’t. (OK, perhaps don’t.) There are many reasons we don’t say anything, decorum, professionalism, fear of being burned at the stake by parents masquerading as angry villagers. For whatever reason, we don’t say them, but this blog is here to offer a little peak at what those things are.

What in the world are you people doing out there?

By pszcz | April 2, 2020

“Personal should remain personal and professional should remain professional. Set and maintain boundaries.” This is in the “So You Want To Become a Teacher” class 101 manual. None the less, it came home in an email during our corona-cation. For good teachers, this is an odd email. For good teachers, this is something so obvious that it does not need mentioning. Yes, certain standards of decorum are looser right now. Yes. I am still teaching, in a sweatshirt and without make up. All in all, I look like I would on a regular dress down day except that now I probably have a Baby Ruth candy bar in my hand. While most teachers I know (and they are all good teachers) are still killing themselves trying to figure out how to deliver curriculum at a high standard under less than ideal conditions, it is also true that most teachers I know have relaxed their standards of appearance or snacking in the classroom. This is of course, because the classroom is now the kitchen, or the living room, or the basement. Given the changes in our circumstances and the mostly unspoken agreement about professional standards during this time, this email still begs the question,

WHAT THE FA LA LA ARE YOU PEOPLE DOING OUT THERE? Are you actively making margaritas during your google meet? Have you decided that meets are clothing optional? What. The. Heck? I can hear how the conversation with HR or the Union Rep goes now:

“Mrs. Neidelbaum, we have had a few phone calls from concerned parents regarding your classroom during the virus mandated Corona-cation.”

“Oh, let me guess, too much work for the little princes and princesses? I swear, all these kids do is complain about how hard things are and how much work they have to do! You know in my day, we respected our teachers and if the teacher assigned something…”

“Uh, no. Let me stop you right there. Actually, Mrs. Neidelbaum, the parents are concerned that you are adding tequila to your “coffee mug” while you are online with students and yelling, ‘Booze calories don’t count in quarantine!’ while you attempt a lesson on the merits of cursive handwriting.”

“I never said any such thing! You know how kids can be, they are bored and lying!”

“Mrs. Neidelbaum, we have multiple parent witnesses and one or two of them even screenshot a post from your social media page where you, and I quote, ‘are enjoying class so much more know that the booze is flowing’ end quote. Here is another post of yours. In this one, there are two beers on your kitchen island — during school hours, when you were to be online with your students. The quote you posted along with the picture was ‘Celebrating St. Patrick’s Day, the quarantine way’. I am sure you can see why we are concerned.”

“No, I can’t. I am home and when I am home, I can do as I like. This is still a free country and I am a consenting adult and I have first amendment rights, or whatever amendment covers drinking at 9:00AM at home. You try dealing with these spoiled little ones all day! Do you have any idea how hard this is? And the parents, all they do is complain, complain, complain! Do you know they actually want me to continue teaching their kids spelling during this? How the heck am I supposed to do that? Is there some magic spelling fairy that will come down and make up some online game or something that will allow kids to learn spelling from their computers?”

“Actually, that already exists. Our school has a subscription to it. Your department head is the one who ordered it. For you.”

Honestly people, when you are interviewing for a job, they will ask you the following quesiton: “What makes you a good fit for us here at Every Single School District, USA?” You should begin with, “Well, I have never been hammered on school time and I actually like teaching kids.”

The fact that this email and probably hundreds like it have gone out across the country is disheartening to say the least. Teachers! You are good at what you do. The venue is immaterial. We have no right to tell our students to “toughen up” and “use your head” if we are going to spend our days, while STILL EMPLOYED, being soft and making stupid decisions. You have a responsibility to be the steady place in this storm. You have the opportunity now, perhaps more than ever, to make a difference in a student’s world.