Reflections on Year #37

(It took me awhile to wrap my head around how the year ended)   
     Just when you think you've seen it all....
     Year thirty seven began with all new furniture and some new supplies! With the help of my two AMAZING classroom aides, we were able to create a warm and welcoming learning environment for the incoming four-year olds. Calm colors and light covers made our classroom almost cozy.
     In our care, there were twenty-two children. Most of them had been together the year before, in the half-day, three-year old class. Some of them had gone to the same daycare for most of their lives.  Assimilating a handful of new children into the mix was no problem at all!
     We were all so busy! How could you not be with twenty two four-year olds? But man, did we have fun! My classroom aides are truly amazing at reading my moods and body language and can joke me out of almost anything. It was not uncommon to see all three of us laughing about something. Truly, one of the best school years in my career.
     ....then Covid happened....
     I dismissed my kids on Friday, March 13th, with a hug and a "have a great weekend." Little did I know that would be the last time I'd see many of them in person. We were just one week shy of Spring Break. Then everything changed.
     In the blink of an eye, we went from in-class learning to "distance learning." Let me just say this now: I did not go to school and obtain two degrees to teach children from behind a computer screen. It stinks! With the help of my PreK team and the parents, we made it work. Was it ideal? Absolutely not! Did I lose some families along the way? I sure did. It was the best we could do within the time permitted. So I recorded myself reading stories from our curriculum, posted an alphabet/reading activity and a math activity once a week, and just for fun, scavenger hunts each week. The parents did really well and adapted to being their child's teacher. The PreK Team made a decision to do a video chat with each of our kids every week, just so we could put our eyes on them and really check in with them. My class also did three Zoom class sing-alongs. Those were so fun and it was fun to see the kids see each other!
     In a nutshell, Year Thirty Seven was good and we adapted. It will be interesting to see how things go this next school year. Just like each year, it's a wait-and-see game.

You CAN Go Home.

home /hōm/. noun: home; plural noun: homes. a place where something flourishes, is most typically found, or from which it originates.

You can take a girl out of the country, but you can't take the country out of the girl!

     Last month, after being virtually locked down for eight weeks, I grabbed the opportunity to go home, to Northeast Nebraska, to the farm where I grew up.  I spent a week! I can't remember the last time I was able to spend a week on the farm. Typically, for me now, it's a long weekend here and there.  It was glorious!  I love springtime on the farm! Everything was green and flowering. There were calves chasing each other through the pasture. There were kittens. After being isolated, due to the pandemic, for so long, it did my heart and soul so much good to see all of this rebirth.

     My parents are still able to live on the farm and for that, I am very thankful. To spend a week with them and watch them reaffirmed that this is their happy place.  My dad, who is nearly 94, gets around now with a walker or cane. He'll still climb in his pickup and drive around the farm to "check on things," and sit on their front porch to watch the world go by.

     My mom has learned to drive the zero-turn mower and you should see her go!  Her flower garden is beautiful and her vegetable garden is tilled with tender loving care. Together, they have lived and loved on that farm for fifty-one years. It was so relaxing and heart-warming to spend so much time with them.

     Who says you can't go home? 

Learn to pronounce

noun

A Country in Pain

I've been silent for too long when it comes to Racism and the murders of our black and brown brothers and sisters. I have re-committed myself to the fight for Civil Rights and Social Justice.

A Country, in it's foundational documents, that pledges "With Justice For All" and t starts with "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that ALL men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness  - it's time we start living this truth, and stand up for those who are unable to do the same.

Love one another, does not come with disclaimers and everyone deserves the right to live without fear. White people, especially, have been silent for too long and it's time to choose a side, either your "Anti-Racist" or "Racist" there's no longer any middle ground left to stand on.

The Five Stages of Grief and the Pandemic

     The five stages of grief, as identified by Elisabeth Kubler Ross and David Kessler, are as follows: The five stages, denial, anger, bargaining, depression,  and acceptance are a part of the framework that makes up our learning to live with loss. They are tools to help us frame and identify what we may be feeling. Here are my own, personal, thoughts about the end of the school year and the Corona Virus Pandemic.

• Denial: What?? It's bad enough that we have to close schools? Can't we just keep it business as normal for one more week, until Spring Break, when the buildings can be thoroughly decontaminated? Sure! The kids can eat breakfast and lunch in the classroom to keep the number of students congregating to a bare minimum. It's only for a week. Why have I not heard anything about this crazy virus until about a week ago? How did it get this bad so quickly? Is this some form of a terroristic threat? How will I know if my students are alright? How will I know if my family is alright? I was going to go wedding dress shopping with our daughter, then go to the farm to see my parents. All of a sudden, travel was “strongly advised against,” and leaving the state was prohibited. Practically overnight! This is serious!
• Anger: So angry!! I can't see my parents. I can't see our kids. I'm stuck at home. Digitally teaching.....four-year olds. Yeah, right! Pity party? Damn straight! I've been teaching for 37 years, almost all in early childhood. I have a masters degree. Life, as I've known it, has always centered around teaching. Teaching is supposed to be a face-to-face, hands-on, profession—not a digital one. I didn't get into teaching to teach from a laptop! I just didn't! I NEED the laughter, tears, challenges, and successes that come from watching my little people grow and learn. Spring time is my favorite time to teach! We've incubated eggs, watched caterpillars make cocoons and hatch, then let them go on the playground, we've planted seeds and watched them grow. This is the time we celebrate all that we have become over the course of the school year! Poof! Gone.

• Bargaining: Well...maybe we could just go see our kids at their homes? No. Maybe we could have small groups? Nope. We could be carriers and not know it, thus perpetuating the spread of the virus. How can we have relationships with our kids if we have to do it through a screen? When you're teaching the littles, they have to rely on their parents to get them online, to help them do the activities. My little people can't do this on their own. This isn't how the end of the school year was supposed to be! How can we fix this? Bottom line---we can't.
• Depression: Where I currently am. I went to school today in order to prep my room for summer cleaning. It was like a time warp. The count-down caterpillar was still on 117 days of school. The calendar was on March 13. Frozen in time. It was weird! The whole time I was there, I kept hearing the funny phrases and laughter of the children who should be in the classroom. Depressing? You bet!
• Acceptance: I'm not there....yet. It's going to take me awhile. This isn't how the year was supposed to end. We were supposed to have a small program and sing some song for our parents. We were supposed to celebrate our school family, together! Cheated? Definitely! It's going to take some time to process and accept this.

If I'd Only Known...

This post has been taking shape in my head for about a week now.

If I'd only known...

I would have made that drive to Nebraska in February when I had a three-day weekend.

If I'd only known...

I would have made more of an effort to see our children and granddaughter.

If I'd only known...

I would have spent more time doing things outside the house with my husband.

If I'd only known...

I would have spent more time visiting with local friends and colleagues.

If I'd only known...

I would have hugged my sweet students a little harder before they left for what we thought was the weekend.

If I'd only known...

Stupid Covid

     Who knew that the last time I would see my precious preschoolers again, in person, would be months away when I said, “I love you! Have a great weekend! On Friday, March 13^th? Never, in my wildest dreams, did I think our time together would be cut short by an entire quarter of school! That's what this crappy viral pandemic did, though!

     I spent the weekend, putting things from winter, Valentine's Day, Dr. Suess Week, and Dinosaurs back in their correct tubs in the basement. I pulled out the items for Weather, and Planting and Growing. I put it all into my rolling cart, ready to take back to school to work on my lesson plans for the remainder of the school year. My mind was filled with thought and ideas of how to make the rest of our time together exciting and educational.

     I had so much I still wanted to do with them! I had received Growing in a Glove kits we were going to use for planting. I have milkweed seed from my parent's farm that I was thinking of using in a bare spot on the playground to enlist the help of some parents to start a butterfly garden. Thank heavens I hadn't ordered my caterpillars yet! We were going to watch them eat through their special food, make cocoons, hatch into butterflies, and release them on our playground. I was almost ready to get eggs from the county extension office to incubate and hatch. The kids would have loved it!! This is my favorite time of the year and I don't get to share it with them!

     I get it, but I'm bummed. We have to keep the kids, their families, and their families safe. On the flip side, I just feel so cheated. I feel cheated on missing eight weeks of instructional time. I feel cheated on the spring activities and experiences I had planned. I feel cheated out of our Sensory Walk at the nature center, followed by sack lunch and outdoor play in the Children's Playscape. I feel cheated out of making Mother's Day gifts with my kids. I feel REALLY cheated out of the preschool program and graduation. The kids are always so stinkin' adorable. I just want to be with my kids! Stupid Covid! I didn't even get a chance to tell them good-bye!

Tell Your Story-Ripples

I'll never forget the day that the big black car with the two men in full Air Force dress uniforms knocked on the door of our tiny duplex in Lincoln, Nebraska, before school on September 20^th, 1968.

When I was seven years old, my father was killed in Vietnam. He was returning from a routine flight in a fighter jet and crashed just three miles short of the runway. No one can explain the crash or why he was even flying that plane. You see, he was trained to fly the largest planes, the B-52 bombers. Why he was flying a jet remains a mystery. His plane was not shot down, nor did he report any mechanical difficulties. It just went down. My father was pinned beneath the wreckage and it was said that he died instantly. The news of my father's death was so devastating that after the two men left, I remember just sitting on my mom's lap with my younger brother and crying our hearts out.

Later that week, we had to fly to Long Island, New York, because that's where my dad was raised and where the family burial plot was. That where my grandmother wanted him buried, although he could have been buried in Arlington. But he was her only child and she wanted him close. I remember staying at my grandmother's house with a family member during the church service because my mother thought it best my brother and I not go to the church. After the church service, we were picked up and taken to the cemetery for the burial.

Upon returning home, I was so afraid that something would happen to my mom. I didn't want to go to school. I screamed, cried, and hid under the dining room table. I didn't want to go to school. The logic of a seven-year old: My dad dies when I was in school, so maybe my mom would, too. We were at an impasse.

My life was forever changed by two incredibly caring educators. Two women to whom I will never be able to repay my debt—Louise Shuman and Maxine Moore, the elementary school counselor and my second grade teacher, respectively.

At school each morning, my mother would drop my brother and me off at the designated door. One of these ladies would be there waiting for us every day. I remember sitting in Mrs. Shuman's office, talking and coloring pictures. Mrs. Shuman's office provided me a quiet place, a place where I could come to school and feel safe. A place where someone would listen to me, my thoughts, and my worries. Who I remember most, though, is Mrs. Moore.

Mrs. Moore would allow me to come into her classroom before the rest of my classmates each day and doo odd jobs for her. I sharpened pencils, passed out morning work, and did other small jobs for her. These are things she would have normally done herself, but she saved them for me. We would talk, which allowed me to feel comfortable in the classroom before the rest of my classmates arrived. Her compassion, caring, and understanding were game-changers for this scared little second grader. You would have thought the story ended there. It did not.

The next year my mom remarried and we moved to a farm a couple of hours away from Lincoln. Even though we lived in a different community, we still kept the same dentist back in Lincoln. Every time we'd go to the dentist, we'd meet Mrs. Moore for an after-school snack. Secretly, my mom and Mrs. Moore worked together to make sure this happened. Because Mrs. Moore cared that much, she wanted to stay in touch with my family and me. I never did lose the connection that Mrs. Moore and I had built over the years.

After high school, I returned to Lincoln for college. One of the first teachers to influence my young life in a positive way continued to impact me and my future. Mrs. Moore, my second grade teacher, wrote one of my reference letters for my acceptance into the University of Nebraksa-Lincoln. Because of her amazing influence and compassion, I, too, decided that I wanted to be a teacher. I had a dual major in Elementary Education and Early Childhood Education with a minor in music education. Many evenings, throughout my college career, you could find me at Mrs. Moore's home, studying or talking about current trends in education. In addition, on those weekend that I didn't go home to the farm, you could find me enjoying Sunday dinner with the Moore family. The impact that Mrs. Moore had on me when I was just sever years old and the bond we formed lead me to a career in education and the desire to focus on relationship-building in my own classroom.

Now, as I have been teaching over thirty years in the area of early childhood education, Mrs. Moore is on my mind each and every day. She was the first teacher, of so many, to have a positive impact on my life. I do my best to emulate the care and compassion I learned very early on from Mrs. Moore. The relationships that teachers build with their students can be long-lasting.. What I learned from Maxine Moore is that you never know how your influence on the life of a child will impact them! In all that you do, show every child that you love them and want what is best for them. Her care, compassion, and life-long connection started with a little, scared second grade girl who needed her. She had no idea what the long-lasting, far-reaching impact would be. Yet she inspired a life of learning and a life of teaching. Her gentle guidance kept me headed in the right direction. That ripple reaches out in directions and guides in ways we may never know.