Month: May 2021

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Back to School

In May of 2018, my 7th graders were dissecting squid in science class.  My sixth graders were performing Hamlet in ELA with costumes and rehearsals.  My eighth graders were creating and conducting their own experiments.  We had field day and spirit day and fundraisers.  There was a great energy. School was engaging and fun.

Nobody will deny that this year has been hard.  I don’t need to list all the reasons. But here’s something I think is missing from the dialogue…  As the adults are getting back into some regular rhythms, we might assume the same of our students.  

Please don’t.  

Our middle school is dealing with an unprecedented number of behavior problems.  Kids are fighting.  Skipping school.  Mouthing off.  Failing classes. Referrals to counselors for anxiety and depression have tripled.  

The teachers are busting our BUTTS to create engaging lessons.  We are working harder than we’ve ever worked.  But it’s not working.  What is happening here?  

It’s easy to get frustrated with the kids.  They’re not paying attention. They’re unmotivated.  They’re not doing their homework. They’re disengaged.  They’re lethargic.  They’re rude.  They’re impulsive.  

Ask any teacher, and they’ll tell you that they are using ALL the available tools. But it feels like nobody is acknowledging that all of our best practices have been stolen from us this year. 

Our desks are lined up in rows, facing forward.  There’s no peer-to-peer conversation.  There’s no group work.  There’s no sharing materials; no posters or experiments or projects.  They can’t touch each other, or sit close enough to collaborate.  Each period of the day, they sit in a classroom, with the desks facing the teacher.  They’re expected to remain engaged, but all of the WAYS we typically engage them have been taken from us.  Sure, we try… with games and videos and all the creativity we can muster.  And it’s still not working.  

Just because your kids are back IN school, doesn’t mean that ANYTHING is even remotely normal for them.  School like this is still incredibly hard.  

Think back to your own Middle School experience.  What do you remember?  Lectures and worksheets and research and essays?  Probably not.  

Maybe you remember singing in chorus.  But now rehearsals take place on the soccer field, so kids are far enough away that they can safely sing.  Never mind that they can’t even hear each other. 

Maybe you remember dissecting a frog.  But that would require group work and sharing materials and moving around the classroom.  That’s no longer allowed.  

You probably remember laughing at the lunch table with your friends.  But imagine lunch is facing forward, no talking, six feet from any other human.  Sounds pretty awful, right?  

Every class period, we have 20 or 21 kids asking to leave to go to the bathroom.  It’s super frustrating.  You can’t POSSIBLY have to pee that much.  We had to start limiting their trips to the bathroom.  But have you ever attended a workshop or conference where you just had to sit and listen and take notes?  Wasn’t that exhausting?  Didn’t you ever pretend to use the bathroom just to have an excuse to move your legs?   Imagine that every day, without even a lunch break for socializing and distraction. 

Guys, our kids?  They are BARELY HANGING ON.  We have taken every fun part of school and tossed it aside.  The kids are left with notes and slideshows and videos, homework and testing and, of course… MCAS.  Seriously?

PLEASE don’t blame the teachers.  We have redefined everything we do to try to fit our creative, engaging lessons into these limited parameters.  And on top of trying to engage the kids in front of us, we have to create parallel remote lessons for the kids who have chosen to stay at home.  

It’s just not enough.  Teachers are burned out because our best efforts right now are just not enough.  

Because the one thing that the kids need most is the one thing we can’t give them right now.  Connection.  Real, genuine, deep connection.  Conversations with their peers.  Inside jokes.  Embarrassing moments.  Shared failures and successes.  

We are SOCIAL beings.  And our kids, even more so.  They learn from each other.  They learn by doing.  They are wired for creativity and connection.  They are not wired for this.  Nobody is wired for this.  

So please, if your kids are ‘back to school’ and they come home miserable and difficult and exhausted, please know that there’s a reason.  These kids are being required to do something miserable and difficult and exhausting.  

Please know that ‘back to school’ does NOT mean ‘back to normal.’  So when those miserable, moody kids give you a hard time?  Don’t take it personally.  Give them a hug.  Play a stupid game.  Share a meal together.  Give them as much connection as you can before you send them back to school tomorrow. 

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Lessons from the Lake

Yesterday, it was 75 degrees and sunny here.  The weather was gorgeous, so we decided to put the new boat in the water.  It wasn’t our maiden voyage, but it was only the second time we’d taken her out on the lake.  Because the water is still too cold for tubing, the kids weren’t interested.  So we invited another couple to join us, and the kids stayed home.  

We definitely lucked out.  Not just with the weather, but also with the launch and the boat itself and all of it.  There’s a lot of preparation involved, but also a good bit of luck.  And some necessary humility.  Boating teaches you lessons you didn’t know you had to learn.  

There are so many things that can go wrong when you’re boating.  That’s especially true when you’re new to the sport or if your vessel is new to you.  You’re still getting used to the processes and the quirks.  Anyone who has ever had to back up a trailer knows that it doesn’t go smoothly the first time.  Or the first 20 times, for that matter.  

Brene Brown talks about FFTs- Freaking First Times- as a source of excitement and as a source of stress.  Anticipation is both a positive and a negative, and first times are a hurdle for all of us, at different levels. 

The first time launching a boat is an unforgettable FFT.  It starts with backing up the trailer.  Some boat launches are friendlier than others.  Some give you plenty of room to swing your truck around and back straight into the water (which is still a lot harder than you would think).  Others are narrow and angled and unforgiving.   Backing up a trailer is counter-intuitive to everything you think you know about driving.  So you have to re-learn and reset.  I advise significant practice in a large parking lot before you try to do this for real.  And for goodness sake, don’t rush.  It will only make things worse. 

Lesson #1:  You’ll get better with practice. Just keep trying. And take all the time you need. 

Then there are the people.  On a lake, there are generally only one or two ways in and out of the water with your boat.  So there is usually a line.  When you’re launching, you have to pay attention to the boats coming in, as well as the boats going out.  There are people on jet skis.  There are kayakers and people fishing from the shoreline and families feeding the ducks.  And whether it’s true or not, it feels like they’re ALL watching you.  

Chances are, most of these people are not first-timers.  And they may or may not remember what it is like to BE a first-timer.  So as you navigate this complicated first time task, you will likely have an audience judging your performance and finding it to be less than exceptional.  No pressure. 

Just before you actually put the boat into the water, there is a mental checklist to be completed.  There are plugs and pumps, wires and chains, pulleys and keys to think about.  It’s not that complicated once you’re familiar with it and you have a routine.  But your first time out?  Having just embarrassed yourself with 6 attempts to back the trailer into the water?  With all of those eyes on you?  Well, that’s when you’re most likely to forget a step.  

Lesson #2:  Don’t let embarrassment distract you from your goals. 

If you’re lucky, someone in the audience will remember what that FFT was like.  They will offer a smile or a word of encouragement or a suggestion.  They might remind you to unplug your trailer lights or give a tip on the best parking spot for your truck.  And when you’re in the middle of an FFT, that small gesture can feel like a lifeline.  

We’ve been doing this a while now, and launching isn’t as stressful anymore.  Jack is excellent at backing up the trailer (and I’m getting better, myself). But a new boat means a new routine.  So, while reversing the trailer has become old hat, there are still different pulleys and levers to check. We’re still working out the kinks.  

Even once you’ve mastered the launch, you have to become an expert in the quirks of your particular vessel. 

Our first boat was held together with duct tape and prayers.  We bought it for $2,000 and I couldn’t have been happier.  The deck had a few noticeable soft spots; you had to be careful where you stepped.  The engine was a little unreliable, despite all of Jack’s tweaks and tune-ups.  He kept a tool kit on the boat, and more than once, the kids swam and I threw down an anchor while Jack worked his magic with a wrench and some elbow grease.  

Also, the fuel gauge didn’t work.  We found that out the hard way.  As we were cruising, the boat stuttered to a stop.  At first, we thought it was that unreliable engine, and Jack broke out the tools.  No amount of tinkering would get it started, though.  The lake was too deep for our anchor, and we were floating toward the rocky shoreline.  I started to panic a bit, but Jack kept his cool.  He broke out the paddles, and we were able to keep ourselves from crashing. 

Another family of boaters was out tubing, too.  They saw we were in trouble and came over to offer assistance.  With an improvised rope-towing system, they pulled us back to the boat launch. It was embarrassing, and a hassle, but ultimately, everything was fine because a few good people were willing to help us out.  

Lesson 3:  There are good people out there.  Let them help you.

In addition to the quirks of your boat, you have to know the body of water you’re in.  There are likely hazards; shallow water or weedy areas or rocks just under the surface.   One lake we went to regularly had a rock wall just under the water line near the boat launch.  It wasn’t marked; we were lucky enough to have someone point it out to us early on, and we tried to return the favor to others who seemed unaware.  

Lesson 4: Learn from those who’ve gone before you.  Teach those who follow.

We were on a new lake yesterday, and we hit a bump.  Literally.  We weren’t too close to shore.  We were putting around, slowly, admiring the houses on the shoreline.  An unfamiliar alarm began to beep.  Jack thought the engine was overheating.  He kicked the boat into neutral just as we hit a sandbar about 18 inches deep.  We were beached.  

I tend to overreact in these situations.  That’s why Jack is the captain, and I’m just the first mate.  I wanted to jump off the boat and push us off the sandbar.  But I have learned this lesson the hard way:  Do NOT jump off the boat without the Captain’s permission.  Even if you think you’re being helpful.  Because then he’ll have to worry about the problem AND worry about hitting you with the boat, which is always LESS helpful than you intended it to be.  

Lesson #5: It never helps to panic.

So I waited.  I listened to Jack.  I eventually did end up in the lake, but not in a frantic panic.  I calmly stepped off the bow into about a foot of water.  It was cold but not frigid.  The boat was lodged but not totally stuck.  I pushed.  Jack put the engine in reverse.  We got ourselves unstuck.  That part was lucky.  But what was even luckier was that I managed to step up the front ladder, grab the hand of a friend, and haul my butt back into the boat without falling backwards into the water or flopping forward into the boat like a dead fish.  I remained upright and dry.  It was an actual miracle.  

Given all of the potential boating pitfalls, you’d think my anxiety would be through the roof on these excursions… and it would be, if it weren’t for my husband.   He’s in his element on the water.  His time in the Navy serves him well at the helm.  When we’re on the boat, there’s nothing that I need to be in charge of.  I do what I’m asked, and I’m often pretty helpful.  But I’m not in charge, and there’s an amazing relief in letting go of that.  When I have no choice but to trust my husband, I’m reminded of how capable and calm and smart he is.  I am so grateful to have that kind of partner in life.  

Lesson #6:  Find a great partner.  Learn to trust them deeply.  

Before today, we’d never been boating without the kids. Don’t get me wrong; I love the swimming and the tubing and the loud, animated laughter when there are children on the boat.  But boating with only adults was just…. Well, it was heavenly. We admired the homes on the shoreline.  We paid attention to nature, and we watched a bald eagle soar overhead.  We joked and laughed and talked and ate and drank and enjoyed each others’ company.  It was relaxing and rejuvenating and refreshing.  It was a beautiful day, and it hinted at a whole lot of beautiful days ahead.  I’m looking forward to our summer on the boat… with adults.  With kids.  With anyone who’s up for an adventure and a few life lessons.  

Lesson #7: Rest.  Relax.  And enjoy the people you’re with.