So I don't Forget

Yesterday, we all were a bit stressed.  So as a family we watched a couple of episodes of Lost (the show we are watching as a family right now).  

Afterward, when it was time to go to sleep, both of the kids (16 and 13) climbed into bed with me for about half an hour and we watched funny and sweet pet videos.  Dogs doing adorable things. Hedgehogs running agility courses.  Cats sitting in the piano while their human played.  We laughed. We "awwwwww"ed. We just sat there and felt a sweet peace. 

I know quarantining is a privilege. 
I also know this is stressful.

However.

Lest I lose sight of it, this time is a gift. 

Anne Frank's Mom's Diary

I hesitate to write this because I do not in any way want to be disrespectful, so if I seem to choose my words carefully, that is why. 

A friend of mine was talking about how she is struggling during this time. She is a mom and a wife and a teacher. Her struggles were very similar to those I have heard many times. I worry a lot about my students. A lot.  But do you know who else I worry about?  The teachers. 

The pressure is so much.
It is so hard to parent and teach at the same time. 

Teaching online is hard. Really hard. I have taken classes either entirely or partially online both synchronously and asynchronously for the better part of 8 years.  There is a steep learning curve because of the nature of the online ecosystem.  It isn't just putting all your stuff in Google Drive.  Online learning is tough. Online teaching is also tough.

The emails.  Holy cats, the emails!  They. Never. Stop.

And then there is the constant barrage of advice from people about how your house should be spotless since you are home all day and Gwenyth Paltrow thinks this is the perfect time to learn a language and Shakespeare wrote King Leer during quarantine and Isaac Newton realized the principles of calculus in quarantine and Anne Frank was in the attic for 25 months AND YOU HAVE WIFI, WHY ARE YOU STRESSED, YOU UNGRATEFUL GIT?! 

When I hear this, while I am glad for Anne's diary and that she found beauty and joy in the horror of that experience, I often wonder about what her mom's diary would have said. 

Anne had the ability to experience some level of joy in the midst of unimaginable horror at least in part because the adults in her life took on the brunt of that horror. We don't talk about that because it feels ungrateful or disrespectful to Anne Frank's memory, but it is the case. 

My children will have very different memories of this time from those that I have. That is the case for every family.  

And I recognize that I write this from a place of privilege, where my children don't have the added trauma of food insecurity or homelessness or the myriad layers of stress and trauma that permeate the lives of many families in America. 

But I do everything imaginable to help them both protected and informed. I watch the White House press briefings every day as well as J.B. Pritzker's Illinois briefings.  My children are welcome to watch them with me.  Knowledge is power.  Information is power. 

And yesterday I turned off the press briefing when I recognized it was more than I could handle.  My cup was empty. I told them that was why I was turning it off, trying to model both information seeking and also recognizing our own limits. 

I work every day to be an educator, a parent, a spouse, a student, and a citizen in the best, most responsible way I can.  And that is exhausting. 

I know that others are more exhausted than me, and I would not even think to compare my exhaustion or stress to that of a health care worker. That isn't the point; this is not the suffering Olympics. 

Teachers, as a group, want to help. They want to teach, and shepherd, and lead, and help.  They will spend their own money, time, energy, life to make that happen.  And right now, the pressure is on. 

Anne Frank's mom tugs at my heart.  On the Anne Frank House's website, they say this: 

"Reading the diary of Anne Frank, we get to know her mother Edith Frank only superficially....In the hiding place, Edith and her daughter Anne often clashed. In her diary, Anne did not spare Edith. At the same time, Anne realised that their quarrels were exacerbated by their difficult circumstances.... According to Otto [Edith's husband], Edith suffered more from their arguments than Anne did....Edith had a hard time in the Secret Annex. According to Miep Gies, one of the helpers, she suffered from feelings of despair. ‘Although the others were counting the days until the Allies came, making games of what they would do when it was all over, Mrs. Frank confessed that she was deeply ashamed of the fact that she felt the end would never come.’"

My heart grieves for Edith Frank. For the load she had to bear. For the loss of her relationship with Anne. 

And I see in it a warning.

We need to be compassionate not only with our struggling children but with our teachers, our administrators, our support staff, and ourselves. 

We aren't waiting for the Allies to show up, but we are hoping the scientists can identify treatments, effective rapid tests,  cures, and vaccines.  That uncertain timeline is stressful. And it is easy to get lost in that despair, thinking that things will never return to normal.  

This is especially true for those who are inclined to be helpers: educators (all of them: paras, admin, bus drivers, all of them), health care workers, those in service fields. 

It is also true of parents.   

It would be hard to imagine someone blaming Edith Frank.  Anyone looking back can see the monumental task she had before her, managing a family in the secret annex for two years of hiding.  And what was at stake was their very lives.  How could anyone possibly blame her for being depressed and stressed and anxious?  How, too, can anyone not see that Edith suffered so that, to some extent, Anne's suffering was lessened?

I wonder if, in the current crisis--which pales in comparison to the Holocaust--we can learn from Edith and Anne?

I wonder if we can all cut each other some slack in an effort to survive this crisis with our psyches intact as well as our lives? 

I wonder if administrators can be compassionate with their staff and students, knowing that at the end of this, education will continue, and it will be far more successful if we don't drive ourselves to destruction during this time? 

I wonder if parents can see that, yes, kids need to learn, but they also need to feel safe, something that is hard when there is trouble all around? 

And I really wonder if we can see that we need to be compassionate and understanding and forgiving of ourselves? What good is it to come out on the other end of this crisis without or dignity and sense of self? 

That doesn't mean I am not going to try to accomplish things.  I am up to date on the laundry for the first time in pretty much ever.  I am reading the things I need for class. I am also spending time with my family and taking time to rest. 

Just don't expect me to learn a language or expand on our understanding of calculus. That isn't my goal.  I am going to honor Edith Frank. I am going to show myself, my family, and my colleagues some compassion. 

Thoughts in the Time of Quarantine

I have a lot of thoughts on education in quarantine.  My typical outlet thus far has been yammering on Facebook, saving articles, and talking to my captive audience (Husband and two kids.  Believe me, they are very excited about my thought-sharing). 

For the sake of posterity, primary sources, and whatnot, I thought I would jot down some of my thoughts here.  They may not be terribly thorough, but at least they will be somewhere other than my brain. 

First, I am a smart, educated, tech-savvy person. I (now) have access to high-speed internet; we have a dozen devices to access the internet in my home.  I have a laser printer sitting on my desk. I have a 32-inch wall-mounted TV that serves as a second monitor.  I am an early adopter of most tech.  Prior to all of this, I have used Google Classroom, Google Meet, Zoom, and Blackboard Collaborate. I am very comfortable taking classes in a digital format.

And I am feeling overwhelmed.  

I can only imagine people who have slow internet. Or a dodgy connection. Or tech that is insufficient. Or those who don't use the internet for anything other than Netflix. 

I can't imagine doing this as a parent who has to work outside the home and also care for kids at home. 

I can't imagine being the kid who has to figure all this out without a helpful parent. Or a knowledgeable parent. Or a parent. 

And my kids are stressed.  They have two educators in the home, access to tech, access to the internet. Yesterday, my youngest accidentally did an online form incorrectly and had a total meltdown. The stress is a lot. 

I fear that we are missing that in all of this. I don't mean "we" as my district but\ all of us.  How are we meeting the needs of our kids who are struggling? Or those who are unsafe at home? Or lonely? Or without support. 

I value education as one of the most important aspects of life. I have always told my children and students that education is something you achieve and nobody can ever take from you. I think it is a solid key to getting out of difficult situations (though I recognize that this is imperfect because of institutional racism and cyclical poverty). 

But I wonder if we are focussing too much on education and not enough on the hearts and souls of our kids.  And our teachers. And our admins.  

Are we focusing on classwork and computers and lessons and meetings because that is something we can control?  Perhaps. 

I am a big picture person.  I see ten miles down the road and often trip over what is in front of me.  So, for me, a lot of this is thinking long term and being overwhelmed but the nuance of now.