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Exercise and Practice: Writing the World

Monday, August 2, 2021: Practicing care

Today is the first day back to school for my youngest daughter and thousands of other students in our area. It is early in August, still summer break for most, but time to head back to school here in Georgia. Like most years, I have some back to school anxiety. Will this be a good year? Will it be a tough one? Will my daughter do well? Make new friends? Make the softball team? In addition this year, I am still very concerned about COVID. The cases are rising due in part to the new super-spreading Delta variant. And, the politicization of masking and vaccinations have certainly also influenced the upward trend in cases.

For a while this summer, at least for a few weeks, it felt almost “normal” again. For our family, normal meant travel and time with family and friends–time that we had desperately missed. We were all vaccinated and were still wearing our masks in uncertain or potentially risky situations, but the shared smiles, stories, laughter, and hugs all felt so good and so normal.

Today, I am not sure how I feel about our daughter in a very crowded school among students who are and who are not vaccinated. There is no rule or requirement that they be. They are all supposed to be masked, but they are teens, highschoolers. In their eyes, mandates from principals and parents are mainly to be ignored or at worst completely contradicted. I understand, but I also worry. I hear that there are schools delaying their early openings. Their plans that seem inadequate now. My oldest daughter is set to start college in September. There is a mask mandate in that city, but I wonder what will happen with all those college-age kids. It seems irrational to imagine that all of these teens in high school and in college can manage something like this when their parents and grandparents are struggling to do so. I worry that perhaps bringing them all together right now is a recipe for disaster, as they say. Only time will tell. I pray that those who are unwell, compromised, or at risk will be safe and that our leaders at all levels will be wise.

As I think about all the teens starting school including my own daughters, I am also thinking about that dear friend of our family whose daughter was the same age as my own. She, too, should have been anxious and excited about the start of school today, but she is gone. She took her own life four weeks ago. I have written previously about the rising cases of teen suicide, as it relates to trauma. This young woman had to endure the trauma of losing her father to COVID. She could not.

I wonder what schools will be doing, preparing and planning in terms of trauma informed practices and preparation this year. I wonder if there will be any funding for more school nurses and school counselors. I find it unlikely. There is already a strain on our system, and schools are always the last to be funded appropriately. I can’t imagine a time when nurses and counselors would be more necessary in our schools than this one. I can’t imagine the anxiety, fear, frustration, and exhaustion so many of our students and parents feel today. Nothing is as it was. Nothing is as it should be.

Last year, our local news reported that only 39% of schools in our state had one full-time nurse on staff (see https://www.wsbtv.com/news/local/atlanta/amid-covid-19-pandemic-only-39-all-georgia-schools-have-full-time-nurse-association-says/OD6DTOARF5A4LK7BUVTMBSTJWU/). In fact, most schools must share nurses (if they have access at all), and the nurses must divide their time among schools that are often miles and miles away from each other.  When our youngest daughter started Kindergarten, I was so scared. As a 5-year-old, recently diagnosed with Cystic Fibrosis, and entering school for the first time, there was no nurse available to assist her with daily medications. She had to be responsible for remembering to go to the office multiple times per day for her medicine. It was troubling to think that this was the best our schools could offer and so scary for me as her mom and main caretaker. Here we are ten years later, living through a global pandemic, and it seems nothing has really changed.

According to schoolcounselor.org, the average student to counselor ratio in the United States in 464 to 1! This is appalling. 464:1. On average, most parents in the US struggle to manage and support their own 1.9 children. How then, do we imagine that 1 counselor might adequately support more than 450 children? Why do we continue to tout mental health matters when clearly we do not prioritize it for our most valuable and most vulnerable—our children? This past week, Simone Biles created a stir in Olympic news. She unexpectedly dropped out of the team gymnastics competition for mental health reasons. This news caused contentious arguments and much controversy. Why? This young woman is wise enough to know and strong enough to say that she needs a break, needs time and space to care for herself, needs to breathe and come back when ready. These are the things that we try and teach our children. No?

What are we really teaching our children and modeling for them if we cannot honor and respect a young woman who takes care of herself and creates space for herself and others to say “No” or “No more”? When I heard the news about Simone Biles, it brought me back to my friend and her dear daughter who no longer lives with us in this world. I do not know for certain why that beautiful and beloved young woman took her own life or why any of the more than 6,000 young people that commit suicide each year do so. But, I don’t think ours is to wonder why but rather to find ways to change it. How can we create a culture and a world where mental health is truly prioritized and where teens feel valued, respected, needed, and truly cared for? When will we take seriously our duty to care for each other and especially our children well?

As we head back to school, I am thinking about the practice of care. I am thinking about the power and potential of selfcare and how that is tightly tied to our care for others. I have to admit that selfcare has not been natural or easy for me, but I am practicing and prioritizing it so that I can in turn be a better caretaker for my children and the young people I have the honor of knowing and teaching.

“There can be no keener revelation of a society’s soul than the way in which it treats its children.” — Nelson Mandela

“Safety and security don’t just happen, they are the result of collective consensus and public investment. We owe our children, the most vulnerable citizens in our society, a life free of violence and fear.” — Nelson Mandela,

“Children have never been very good at listening to their elders, but they have never failed to imitate them.” — James Baldwin

“Children are our most valuable resource.” — Herbert Hoover

“When I approach a child, he inspires in me two sentiments — tenderness for what he is and respect for what he may become.” — Louis Pasteur

“It is easier to build strong children than to repair broken men.” — Frederick Douglass

Tuesday, June 8, 2021: The practice of joy

In my last blog I wrote about the practices of joy and dreaming. I have been thinking since then that I should be clear about what I mean when I use the word joy. My family can testify to my ramblings and rants about the differences I see between happiness and joy. As I said in the blog, I see joy as enduring and sustaining. For me, joy is internal and eternal, set in the spirit and the soul. Unlike happiness which is often based on experiences and events and can be elusive, joy never leaves–but it can be hidden or hindered. On the other hand, joy can also be heightened.

Like most things in life, we can choose joy and practice it. We can grow it if we wish. Joy does not depend on our happiness to live and grow. Joy is rooted so deeply inside of us that it cannot be removed or taken from us, despite difficulties. Joy comes from deep connections and from contentment. I think our joy is tied to our human need for wellbeing, safety, belonging, and relationship. Joy is hard-wired and pre-existing–a joy seed so to speak– but it is up to us to provide the fertile soil and nourishment needed for its growth. My lingering questions still are 1) how do we find and define joy and 2) how do we practice and grow joy in our schools and educational systems? What kinds of things must we do to root our educational work in joy and to build communities of practice that are rooted in joy?

In online dictionaries, joy is often defined as “the source” of pleasure, delight, gladness, and well-being. I absolutely love this idea of joy as a source. I am thinking again of the seed, a small source with possibility and potential. I also found joy defined as a something or someone greatly valued or appreciated. I love this, too. Joy seems tied to our ability to find gratitude and value and appreciation in ourselves and our lives. We can practice joy when we recognize it and appreciate and grow our connections and sources of wellbeing and contentment.

While I was searching out ways that others have sought to define joy. I came across The Book of Joy: Lasting Happiness in a Changing World. This book offers reflections on a conversation between Archbishop Desmond Tutu and His Holiness the Dalai Lama. Together, they offer great insight into joy and agreed on eight pillars of joy: perspective, humility, humor, acceptance, forgiveness, gratitude, compassion, and generosity.

Some of my favorite quotes are these:

“We are wired to be caring for the other and generous to one another. We shrivel when we are not able to interact. I mean that is part of the reason why solitary confinement is such a horrendous punishment. We depend on the other in order for us to be fully who we are. (…) The concept of Ubuntu says: A person is a person through other persons.”
― Desmond Tutu

Everyone seeks happiness, joyfulness, but from outside – from money, power, from big car, from big house. Most people never pay much attention to the ultimate source of a happy life, which is inside, not outside. Even the source of physical health is inside, not outside.
— The Dalai Lama

“We create most of our suffering, so it should be logical that we also have the ability to create more joy. It simply depends on the attitudes, the perspectives, and the reactions we bring to situations and to our relationships with other people. When it comes to personal happiness there is a lot that we as individuals can do.”
― Dalai Lama

“The Dead Sea in the Middle East receives fresh water, but it has no outlet, so it doesn’t pass the water out. It receives beautiful water from the rivers, and the water goes dank. I mean, it just goes bad. And that’s why it is the Dead Sea. It receives and does not give. In the end generosity is the best way of becoming more, more, and more joyful.”
― Desmond Tutu

“Once again, the path of joy was connection and the path of sorrow was separation. When we see others as separate, they become a threat. When we see others as part of us, as connected, as interdependent, then there is no challenge we cannot face—together.”
― Desmond Tutu

While this book offered excellent insights into joy, I also found other quotes that have really stayed with me:

“Joy is the holy fire that keeps our purpose warm and our intelligence aglow.” —Helen Keller

“I define joy as a sustained sense of well-being and internal peace – a connection to what matters.” – Oprah Winfrey

“Joy is not in things; it is in us” – Richard Wagner

“Joy lies in the fight, in the attempt, in the suffering involved, not in the victory itself.” —Mahatma Gandhi

“We cannot cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live in joy.” –Joseph Campbell

“No soul that seriously and constantly desires joy will ever miss it. Those who seek find. To those who knock it is opened.” –C.S. Lewis

While I am still reflecting on what I think joy really is, I am also thinking about how joy relates to education and to schooling. In The Book of Joy, Archbishop Tutu and The Dalai Lama suggest:

“The problem is that our world and our education remain focused exclusively on external, materialistic values. We are not concerned enough with inner values. Those who grow up with this kind of education live in a materialistic life and eventually the whole society becomes materialistic. But this culture is not sufficient to tackle our human problems. The real problem is here,” the Dalai Lama said, pointed to his head.

The Archbishop tapped his chest with his fingers to emphasize the heart as well.

“And here,” the Dalai Lama echoed. “Mind and heart..”
― Dalai Lama

This gets to the core of my second question. If schools are not about the business of the heart as well as the mind, then they will not offer opportunities to practice and grow joy. And, what is life without joy? Boredom, distraction, frustration, disconnection, and attrition are all signs that students’ souls, hearts, and minds are not being reached in our schools and that there is little joy to be found there.

I imagine that if you asked most folks about their experiences of joy in schools and classrooms, they might be surprised and slightly perplexed by the question. I seriously doubt that most people equate the sterile classrooms, monitored hallways, security systems, tight schedules, and closed curriculum in our prison-like schools with joy. It seems like a question focused on the suffering that school causes or created would make more sense to most people. I find this to be sad and unacceptable. If we say that schools are worth funding and matter in our societies and for our future, and if we say that schools are spaces for growing humans and developing knowledge and skills for life, then how can they be spaces of suffering and fear and not spaces of joy?

John Dewey in Experience and Education (1938) asks, “What avail is it to win prescribed amounts of information about geography and history, to win the ability to read and write, if in the process the individual loses his own soul?” (p. 49).

This brings me back to my previous blogs and discussions around holistic education and the inclusion of spirituality as a dimension of education. If schools aim to support the growth and development of children as whole humans beings through education, then we must embrace learning as inclusive practices of mind, heart, soul, and spirit.

“Joy, feeling one’s own value, being appreciated and loved by others, feeling useful and capable of production are all factors of enormous value for the human soul.” — Maria Montessori

“It is the supreme art of the teacher to awaken joy in creative expression and knowledge.” — Albert Einstein

I am once again thinking that it is time for us to reevaluate our purposes and desires for education in this country and reimagine our methods. On the surface, it seems like our goals for students must include providing general oversight and developing successful standardized test-takers. Is this really all that what we want from our schools? I would argue that it is not. As a teacher and administrator, I want students to feel inspired to learn and be creative. I want to help them uncover and grow their joy. I want to help them make connections to curriculum, concepts, and their community. I want them to feel valued and to practice compassion and empathy for others. I want to continue to grow and develop these things in myself as well. Growth and learning never end. So, I have a few concrete suggestions for educators interested in supporting students and themselves as the seek to learn together and grow joy.

First, we must think of school as a community of humans (perceptions and perspectives), a community of practice for learning. Schools are not buildings. Schools are learning communities made up of whole human beings with bodies, minds, souls, and spirits. We are all learning from and with each other (humility). Always. Secondly, we must require that schooling include and prioritize joy and be reflective of what we collectively hope for and dream of. What do we want for our children, for ourselves, for our communities, and for our collective future? Thirdly, we need a focus on wellbeing as an integral part of learning and development for both teachers and students. In order to be joyful spaces for learning, classrooms must have time and space for unstructured talk, fun, exploration, art, rest, movement, and singing among other things. School days should include unstructured time, time outside for play, and time for real-life, hands on learning, Learning has to be focused on making meaningful connections to content and to others in the community. I am still thinking about what concrete practices of joy might look like in the classroom and how we can create this kind of radical change that is so needed in our schools and classrooms–for all of us.

Friday, May 28, 2021: Practicing joy and dreaming

On Wednesday my daughter graduated from high school. She was among the top ten in her class and graduated with multiple honors and distinction. We were and are so proud of her, and we are so thankful for all the family, friends, teachers, and mentors who loved, supported, and encouraged her love of art. On graduation day, she was mostly just glad that high school was finally over. Her junior and senior years were nothing like what she had expected or imagined. She was exhausted and stressed and completely depleted from virtual classes and exams. Her graduation ceremony was unlike any that preceded it. We sat spread out in a huge sports stadium watching her and her classmates on large screens. There were no big parties or celebrations planned afterwards, and we all wore masks as we embraced and posed for pictures. Our family had a small group gathering for lunch before the graduation and afterwards for cake. It was intimate and beautiful but not at all what we had thought we would be doing to celebrate this once in a lifetime event.

At the graduation ceremony, students performed and gave their speeches and guests shared words of wisdom. Each in turn reflected on the resiliency of this group and the strange journey they had collectively traveled amid the pandemic, political polarization and social uprisings, and unprecedented school closings. We attended several events to honor senior students in the two weeks before the graduation ceremony—some online and some in person with safety precautions in place. My daughter’s school held a drive-in honors and awards ceremony, and there we spoke to other parents, outside with masks, for the first time in more than a year. We shared our stories and experiences of this time and commiserated on the hardships and challenges our seniors endured socially, emotionally, intellectually, and creatively. Many students never visited the college they will attend in the fall. Some have decided not to go to college until they can be sure they can go in person. Some failed classes for the first time. Like our daughter, many have unworn prom dresses hanging in their closets and so many senior plans and dreams that just won’t happen. We talked about how this class and the one before will always be remembered as those that graduated during the COVID-19 pandemic. “Oh! You were in the Class of 2020 or the Class of 2021.” 

So now, I am thinking about what I would want to say to those graduating in this time, what words of wisdom I might have to share. In years past, I have had the privilege and honor of addressing the graduating classes at the school where I worked. This is the first year in quite some time that I have not given any kind of commencement address, and I find myself thinking about what I might say in this extraordinary time.  

While there are things in this life that people can take from us—time, material things, events, experiences, even our choices—there are other things that no one can take—unless we allow it. Humans have been given the amazing capacity to dream. All human beings, regardless of race, origin, language, or status dream. Like other mammals, we dream subconsciously as we sleep, sometimes of things we dare not speak—our hidden fantasies and fictions. However, we also dream consciously of what we want and hope for—our visions and aspirations—oftentimes not daring to share those either. Our mind and imagination are foundational to who and what we are and to what we will become. They are the places where possibilities are born. In Middle and Old English the word dream meant joy, and we still use the word in this way to describe something so good that it is seemingly elusive—a dream partner, house, or vacation. At graduation, a commencement, we reflect on things past so that we can look forward to what is to come. A commencement is a new beginning. The start of something new, a time for dreaming and typically a place and time of great joy.

We need joy and new dreams now more than ever. I hope the seniors of 2020 and 2021 will take all that they have seen, experienced, learned, and dreamed through these unprecedented times to create a better world–to live out the change we need. I pray they find joy in their individual and collective dreams and in their journeys. There are many things that we as humans need in our lives, but few seem more important than dreams and joy.

I believe that both dreams and joy come from connections and live in the heart and soul. Joy transcends circumstances and experiences and is enduring. Dreams, too, transcend what we live and what we know. Even a global pandemic cannot take away the dreams and joy that we as humans possess. I never want to stop dreaming. I dream of writing a book. I dream of my daughters finding loving partners and possibly becoming parents. I dream of a world at peace and of equity and justice for all. Some say that students cannot imagine what they have never seen or been exposed to or what they have no knowledge of. Thus, it is our duty as educators to be sure they have as many doors and windows open to them as possible. As a child and young adult, most of what I learned beyond my own home was gathered from books, movies, songs, and, of course, from the people around me–all through connections. I imagined other ways of living and possible paths for my life from what I learned. I dreamed of life in a bigger city, having a family, of teaching, and even dreamed that I could one day earn a Ph.D. I have done these things but certainly not on my own. There were so many who loved, supported, and encouraged my dreams. I could never have done it without them. As educators, we must imagine our own roles in helping students first to practice dreaming and then we must encourage and empower them to achieve those dreams.

In doing some research online into how to achieve one’s dreams, I found that many seem to agree that there are a few critical steps to the process. One is sharing your dream, giving voice to what is inside you. Telling others, especially those who might support you, about your dreams and what you hope to achieve. Secondly, it is important to believe in your dream. Believe that it is possible for you, visualize and imagine yourself doing and being what you have dreamed. The third step is finding support from others in your pursuit—wise counsel, mentors, teachers, friends, people who will help you achieve your dream and forge your way. Schools are fertile ground for this kind of work—or certainly could be. What if we spent more time in schools really seeing students—knowing their strengths, assets, talents, resources, and interests? What if we made time to talk about our dreams and to plan together? What if we practiced dreaming and joy in our schools and classrooms?

Ultimately, I guess what I would most want to tell seniors this year is to practice joy, live joy, and give joy and to practice dreaming, share their dreams, dream as big as possible, and never give up the practice of dreaming.

“Your imagination is your preview of life’s coming attractions.”—Albert Einstein

“Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined.”—Henry David Thoreau

“Wherever you go, go with all your heart.”—Confucius

“The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.”—Eleanor Roosevelt

“You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream.” – C.S. Lewis

“To accomplish great things, we must not only act, but also dream; not only plan, but also believe.”– Anatole France

“Hold fast to dreams for if dreams die, life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly.”– Langston Hughes

“All men [and women] dream: but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men [and women], for they may act their dreams with open eyes, to make it possible.”– T.E. Lawrence

Thursday, May 20, 2021: Practicing love and leisure

Yesterday a friend, who is a nurse, posted on Facebook that she and her colleagues received handmade cards delivered from local school children. Second graders designed, wrote out, and decorated cards of appreciation for the nurses. One wrote, “You are so helpful to the world, so please, please keep it up even after the pandemic.” When I saw my friend’s post, I was overcome with emotion. I have spent a great deal of time lately thinking about the intersections of love and spirituality and education. I have written about my hope to contribute something in my field of language and literacy education that sheds light on powerful practices of literacy and love in the classroom. As I looked at the pictures of these cards, I realized that this was evidence of these practices. It happens. And, it is powerful, transformative stuff.

Of course, I know nothing of the school, students, or teacher who created and planned this card-writing activity or lesson, but I don’t need to in order to see the ways in which love and literacy were being practiced in and through it. We can assume that these second graders do not know these nurses personally. They do not know their gender, race or ethnicity, first languages, nations of origin, or sexual orientation. The imagined connection they made in the creative act of writing and drawing was to another human—a human to human connection. They recognized these nurses for their contributions as helpers and wanted to thank them. They wanted to express gratitude and bring joy in doing so. We can assume that these cards did bring joy and perhaps touched the souls and spirits of the nurses who received them. I know that for my friend, it was a moving experience and one she won’t soon forget. By posting, she was able to create a ripple effect and spread the love and joy she received. She used her own digital literacy skills to share the gift she gratefully received with even more people. Another beautiful example of literacy and love in practice.

I realize that this kind of thing happens often, but, I think, not often enough in our schools. As I am reading and researching about love in schools and classrooms and seeking to understand more about how spirituality fits into holistic education, I imagine a time when schools spend more time and energy focused on connections and caring and less on testing and disconnected and discrete subject-area teaching. Please know that I completely understand that students must learn the academic language and critical thinking skills associated with science, social studies, reading, writing, technology, math, and more. But, they also need time for music, art, play, love, and people. Students need time to cultivate creativity, imagination, and connections. As I mentioned in a previous blog post, the word school comes from the word leisure. The word leisure is related in Old French to an allowance. Generally, leisure is understood as the freedom, allowance, and opportunity to do something. In order to develop ideas, humans need the freedom and opportunity to plan, practice, try, fail, reflect, etc. This is real learning. Right?

Students need time to cultivate creativity, imagination, and connections.

Being on sabbatical, it has become exceedingly clear how little regard leisure is given in our culture and what high regard all work is afforded. In fact, we even “work” at things completely unrelated to our professions. We work hard on dinner and on our relationships. Just listen. You will hear people around you talk about “working on their weight” or “working on the house.” The work never ends. In my time away from work, I have had many people ask me about work. What are you doing for work? When are you going back to work? What kind of work do you want to do now? They rarely, almost never, ask me how I am enjoying this sabbatical time. I ordered a book that I expect to be delivered today: Josef Pieper’s Leisure: The Basis of Culture.

I understand that Pieper, a German Catholic philosopher and scholar, described leisure as “an attitude of mind and a condition of the soul that fosters a capacity to perceive the reality of the world” and as “the first foundation of any culture.” He argued for the practice of silence and nonactivity so that we, as a culture, can gain insight and perspective. Personally, I need time for quiet, prayer, and thinking if I want to be my best. I cannot write, listen, learn, or care for myself or my family well if I cannot find time for solitude and silence. My mind becomes easily scattered, as I run from activity to activity. My heart struggles to make connections when I am distracted and stretched too thin. I imagine it is the same for most students and teachers. Being governed by bells and busy in almost every moment of the day from 7:30AM to 3:30PM with little time for conversations and connections, cannot be good for them. There has to be a better way.

In my experiences as a teacher and Head of School, Advisory and Morning Circle meetings along with vocal music classes and classroom time outside have been opportunities to shift and refocus on what really matters—our human to human relationships and our individual and collective wellbeing (love, learning, and leisure). I plan to write more on these later and perhaps submit a few proposals for presentations at educational conferences in the coming weeks.

One thing is certain; children need lots of free, quiet time to get used to all that is developing within them. Have you noticed that unhurried time by yourself or with someone you really trust can be the best setting for your own personal growth? It’s no different for children.–Fred Rogers

Leisure is the Mother of Philosophy. –Thomas Hobbes

There are moments when all anxiety and stated toil are becalmed in the infinite leisure and repose of nature. –Henry David Thoreau

He enjoys true leisure who has time to improve his soul’s estate. — Henry David Thoreau

Together with a culture of work, there must be a culture of leisure as gratification. To put it another way: people who work must take the time to relax, to be with their families, to enjoy themselves, read, listen to music, play a sport. –Pope Francis

Friday, May 14, 2021: Practicing mental health care

May is Mental Health Awareness month. I didn’t realize this while I was taking my trauma training course. I am sad and ashamed to admit that I don’t think I ever realized it before. I wonder now how I missed this in all my years as Head of School. While at a doctor’s appointment this morning, I mentioned this to my oldest daughter, a graduating senior in high school. She explained how mental health month was “a joke” for students at her school and especially for her. She told me how she had been asked to watch videos on mental health and wellbeing but also how no one really cared to ask or talk with her to find out how she is feeling and understand the tremendous stress she’s been under. She said, “I would rather talk to someone than watch videos.” So, we talked for a while, and I tried to explain to her that many of her teachers likely feel the same way. They would rather have time, someone to talk to, and someone willing to listen than to be told to practice self-care. This is and has been a challenging time for so many individuals and for us collectively. I can’t think of a better time to pause, reflect, and reconsider mental health than right here and right now. In the middle of a global pandemic and the end of another unprecedented year of school closures, virtual classrooms, and socially separated celebrations.

The trauma training course that I took was global in perspective and offered important insights into the discourses surrounding mental health and wellness around the world. While there is much to debate in terms of appropriate and culturally aware treatments and interventions for those experiencing poor mental health, it is safe to say that more and more people are aware that mental health is important and is impacting the ways in which we live our lives both individually and in community. I am thankful that we have a national mental health month and am hopeful that more and more schools will focus energy and effort (even if only during this one month) on engaging with families and students around the subject of mental health.

I happen to be watching The Sopranos series on HBO right now. (Please don’t judge me harshly.) I never saw it when it aired originally, but I find the story premise fascinating. In case you, like me, missed this long-running series, Tony Soprano, a New Jersey street boss in the mob, is dealing with anxiety, depression, and panic attacks. He starts seeing a psychiatrist, and so much of the story unfolds in these therapy sessions. It is something to see this macho male figure engaged in mental health care. What a surprising storyline! I have since seen the show called “pioneering” and “groundbreaking” in its portrayal of male mental health.

As I have been thinking about mental health and school reform and trying to reimagine schools as spaces for life AND learning, I have thought a great deal about the collective needs of administrators, teachers, students, and parents. A school is a community of people. It is not a building or campus or a curriculum. A school is a community, a group, a multitude—like a school of fish. Interestingly however, our English word for school does not share origins with the word school used to describe fish. The Merriam Webster online dictionary explains,“the word school referring to a place of learning traces back to Greek scholē, which has a meaning that will surprise students—”leisure.” To the Greeks, leisure allowed one to spend time thinking and finding out about things. Hence, the connection between leisure and the pursuit of knowledge, and eventually to a place of learning. The Romans borrowed the Greek word with its educational meanings as schola, which became scōl in Old English.” I was completely surprised to learn this. Again, something I really should have known. I may have learned it somewhere along the way, but I had certainly forgotten.

What if we could somehow reimagine schools as both–communities of practice and spaces where we take time together to inquire, reflect, learn, and grow? Today, schools in the US typically run on tight time-clocks and teachers pack in as much teaching into each class as possible. There is little if any additional time for lunch (usually less than 20 minutes), almost no time outside, no social time to talk about things other than school and know each other, and barely enough time to “cover” everything that will be tested. What if schools reimagined schedules and made time for talk and for trips outside? What if there was time for art, music, mindfulness, and movement and more unstructured time that was not tied to testing? Could we possible see improved mental health and wellness? I think back to a blog that I wrote a few weeks ago and the staggering statistics on suicide among youth as the second leading cause of death. Could we change this if we changed our schools?  

Accountability makes no sense when it undermines the larger goals of education. ―Diane Ravitch

Why have so many schools reduced the time and emphasis they place on art, music, and physical education? The answer is beyond simple: those areas aren’t measured on the all-important tests. You know where those areas are measured… in life! –Dave Burgess

I am not afraid of storms for I am learning how to sail my ship. — Amy March, from Little Women

A few resources:

Mental Health America has an excellent website and toolkit available: https://www.mhanational.org/mental-health-month

Center for Disease Control & Prevention (CDC): https://www.cdc.gov/healthyyouth/

US Department of Health & Human Services: https://www.mentalhealth.gov/talk/educators

Thursday, May 13, 2021: School as life practice

I completed my Harvard Program in Refugee Trauma (HPRT) training and certification almost two weeks ago, and I am still thinking a great deal about what I learned and how this relates to my work as an educator. The program was designed primarily for medical professionals working with people in conflict-affected areas but was broad enough in scope to include several discussions on learning, children, and education as they relate to trauma. I have also simultaneously been reading Caste by Isabel Wilkerson. Living with and between both things, I have become more distracted and my dreams more vivid. There is so much to process and think through.

Wilkerson’s book is masterful and, in my opinion, should be required reading for all teachers and high school students. It is well-written, highly accessible, and much needed in a country divided by race and in desperate need of reconciliation and reformation. While Wilkerson’s conceptualization of the American caste system, especially as compared to the one in India, might be problematic (see A. Appadurai at https://thewire.in/books/book-review-isabel-wilkerson-caste-racism-america) the facts of our history and the forced and systematic categorization and separation of humans in our country are undeniable and expertly laid out in this book. Wilkerson’s thoughtful and thought-provoking presentation of facts alongside anecdotal stories is powerful–challenging, difficult, and demanding as well—but powerful to read and necessary. At this point, I am not sure that I fully accept Wilkerson’s argument that we have indeed created and abide by a caste system here in the US. However, her book adds a great deal to our collective understandings about historical and structural racism in this country and the efforts to systematically dehumanize our African-American brothers and sisters. This book can be a catalyst for important conversations as we seek to confront racism and the caste-like systems that operate in our country.

It could be argued that refugees are subjected to a similar process of dehumanization as they endure torture, displacement, and statelessness—and even in the ways they are represented in images and in discourses. These repeated acts of violence (physical, emotional, and social) are typical tactics used against refugees in the targeted process of dehumanization. Violence or the fear of violence and persecution is what the United Nations High Commission on Refugees (UNHCR) offers as the basis for what it is to be a refugee. The UNHCR defines refugees “as people who have fled war, violence, conflict, or persecution and have crossed an international border to find safety in another country.” Refugees are often perceived as an indiscriminate and homogeneous group—a helpless and huddled mass in search of support. In our own country, refugees who have been resettled often face ongoing fears, as they are racialized (or caste) as non-white, needy, and less than. Most refugees have experienced multiple traumas as part of their journey, and many continue to experience ongoing trauma in resettlement as they work in low-wage jobs, struggle with language barriers, have limited health care options, and generally are denied access to the opportunities most white, middle class, English-speaking Americans would have. They are literally “outcasts” forced out of their home countries and then pushed outside and to the margins of society in their new host country.

We are not teaching only to minds but to breathing, believing, and beloved human beings.

From my HPRT classes and the reading of this book, a few things emerged for me.

1. All humans experience trauma. Some humans experience multiple and persistent traumas. Our human bodies and minds are hard-wired to respond to threats, fear, and stress. We adapt when needed and adjust our expectations, ideas, and actions. Our fight, flight, or freeze responses are part of our resilience.
2. Humans are resilient but we must also work diligently to relieve chronic stress and practice strategies to reduce individual and collective as a society. We must recognize and prioritize mental health and wellbeing. The chronic stress of dehumanization and discrimination can create trauma in the lives of students of color, refugee-background students, and any students who regularly experience social and emotional stress, fear, and violence.
3. Recognizing and responding to trauma in the classroom is required. All students are whole humans; thus teaching and learning should be approached holistically and include the physical, social, emotional, spiritual, and creative development of each student. We are not teaching only to minds but to breathing, believing, and beloved human beings.
4. Relationships are fundamental to human life and to our ability to live with and through trauma. Strong positive relationships are proven to increase student efficacy and success in schools.
5. Empathy is a protective factor for trauma. Empathy is developmental and can be taught and practiced.
6. It is important for educators to be multidisciplinary practitioners. We need to have some basic neuroscientific knowledge and brain-based practices as they relate to child growth, development, and learning. We also need to understand trauma and how mental and emotional health and development relates to teaching, learning, and classroom communities. We must do more and do better in addressing human needs beyond academics. We have a long way to go.
7. Just as empathy can be taught, cultural respect and responsiveness and intercultural communication and conflict resolution can be taught. Awareness of self and others, deep listening, and storytelling can be taught in schools to work against explicit and implicit bias and systems of marginalization and discrimination.  These are also common trauma-informed practices for working with students.

I still don’t know exactly where I’m going with these thoughts and ideas, but I feel certain that we must find new ways of working in our schools and classrooms. Reimagining our school systems may allow us to break the cycles of trauma and discrimination, poverty and oppression that persist. What happens in our schools creates a long-lasting ripple effect. Just look at the research and evidence on the school-to-prison pipeline (SPP). Creating a more just and equitable future for our children, one with less violence and trauma, seems worth the effort it would take to rethink and rebuild our schools and classrooms. We cannot continue to ignore the facts before us.

Children must be taught how to think, not what to think.–Margaret Mead

Education is not the piling on of learning, information, data, facts, skills, or abilities – that’s training or instruction – but is rather making visible what is hidden as a seed.–Thomas Moore

The philosophy of the school room in one generation will be the philosophy of government in the next.–Abraham Lincoln

The principle goal of education in the schools should be creating men and women who are capable of doing new things, not simply repeating what other generations have done.–Jean Piaget

Education without values, as useful as it is, seems rather to make man a more clever devil.–C. S. Lewis

Education must not simply teach work – it must teach Life.–W.E.B. Du Bois

Wednesday, May 5: Practicing appreciation

This is teacher appreciation week around the country, and I have seen several emails, posts, and blasts offering gratitude for teachers. I saw one post that really caught my eye. It read, “If someone’s job requires an appreciation week, it means they are not being paid enough.” I laughed and then realized that it really rings true. Appreciation weeks are typically reserved for nurses, office assistants, teachers, and others who are not adequately compensated for their work. I suppose the appreciation offered is meant to offset the inadequacies of their financial compensation and other social benefits. My oldest daughter and I participated in showing appreciation by baking about 6 dozen cookies for the teachers at the school where I used to work. While baking, she told me that another of her teachers has taken a leave of absence from school and will not return before the end of the year. It was a shock for students and parents because this teacher was beloved among students and because no one had any idea at all this might happen or what brought about the decision. I have seen several parents and students posting well wishes for the teacher but wonder if it is too little too late.

During this teacher appreciation week, I have been thinking of this teacher and all of those teachers who are struggling through this unusual time in history. I am thankful for and appreciate all of those teachers who have persisted and those who could not. I am thankful for teachers who show up day after day despite the challenges and those who had to take a break from the day to day. Teaching, like health care, is one of the most demanding professions on a person. It requires physical, mental, and emotional endurance. It requires ongoing learning, intentionality, planning, patience, and practice. Good teachers don’t just prepare lessons, they prepare humans for life. Teachers directly touch the lives of students each and every day, and the influence of a teacher, for good or bad, is often relived in the minds, hearts, and memories of her students for decades. Good teachers carry the light of love and learning into their classrooms and lead the way towards our collective future. They deserve so much more than a week of appreciation. Teachers deserve adequate pay, paid vacations and sabbaticals, paid college tuition and professional development, and most of all support, validation, recognition, and respect. I think about the status of teachers in our country. They wield so much power in the classroom but so little power in our social systems. Teachers usually aren’t mentioned or recognized in the news or in our policies unless something has gone terribly wrong. When there is a sex scandal, testing scandal, or strike, then teachers make the news. Otherwise, they are largely ignored and overlooked. How can professionals with so much power to influence humans, culture, and collective futures be so disenfranchised and disempowered in our political, economic, and social systems?

Last week, I had lunch with a long-time and recently retired middle school teacher, who used to watch me and my siblings regularly while my mother worked. Over lunch she shared how her own experiences of being bullied in middle school and especially in 6^th grade led her to teaching that particular age group. She talked about her experiences in the hospital as a young child with polio and the physical, social, and emotional challenges of that. This woman, who watched over and cared for me, was also my 6^th grade teacher and inspired my love of school and influenced me to become a teacher. Strangely enough, my first grade teacher (about whom I have written many times and who also greatly influenced me and my love of school) was also deeply affected by the polio pandemic. She walked on crutches at school, and as students we could see some of the ways that polio directly affected and shaped her body and her life. I have been thinking about both of these wonderful women this week—their strength and tenacity and their dedication to teaching and learning. I felt loved and valued in both of their classrooms. I think this was due in large part to their own understandings and experiences of feeling different and of facing difficulty. They knew what it was like to be bullied by peers and belittled for something out of one’s control. They loved and included me in their classrooms. They made this poor, fatherless girl from New York feel welcome and like she belonged in that little southern school. They inspired me to learn, influenced my future, and created a positive ripple effect that has continued through the classrooms and lives of the students that I have touched over the past 25 years.

I am still thinking about how strange it is that these women, both of whom were so powerful in my life and the lives of many others, lived through a previous pandemic of epic proportions. How did that experience change them, their communities, and their futures? How is this experience of a coronavirus pandemic going to change our collective lives? What will it mean for the children and young people in this country? What will it mean for teachers, classrooms, and schools? What will we take away from it–take with us into the future and/or choose to abandon?

In the 1950’s and 1960’s there were polio outbreaks nearly every summer until the development of a vaccine. Images of the iron lungs used to help children who could not breathe still live in my memories. I was not alive during the polio pandemic but knew and loved people who were and always paid attention in my history classes. One thing that strikes me in reading about the polio pandemic and fight was the time it took to develop the vaccines, persuade people to take them, and administer them. Eventually after many years and research, two versions of a polio vaccine were created: the dead virus Salk developed in 1955 and the live virus Sabin developed in the early 1960s. The polio epidemic raged for many decades and despite being wiped out by vaccines still has long-term effects on those families and children who suffered paralysis or died. We don’t yet know what all the long-range effects of the COVID-19 pandemic will be, but I feel certain that our children, schools, and classrooms will forever be changed by it.

One looks back with appreciation to the brilliant teachers, but with gratitude to those who touched our human feelings. – Carl Jung

Education is the passport to the future, for tomorrow belongs to those who prepare for it today.–Malcolm X

What greater or better gift can we offer the republic than to teach and instruct our youth? – Marcus T. Cicero

I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.— Maya Angelou

Tuesday, April 20: Change as practice

I am in the fourth month of my sabbatical already, and it is hard to believe that time has gone by so quickly. This past weekend I went with my daughter to visit an art college outside of Los Angeles, California. It is even more unbelievable to think that she is 18 and ready to leave for college. In the late afternoon yesterday, I heard a public radio story about the challenges that students and college admissions officers have faced in this pandemic, and especially this spring. Many students have no SAT or ACT scores and some don’t even have grades or accurate GPAs. Admissions offices have not been able to use the numbers they have come to rely on in terms of acceptances and rejections. While I can imagine the chaos this can cause, especially when unplanned, I am wondering about how this forced shift might become more permanent in practice moving forward. In the interview, I heard the guest say that they had been forced to spend more time on each application and applicant. I wonder if this is a bad thing. When we reduce students to numbers or even words on a page in a college essay, how can we really know them or their potential or help guide them towards their future dreams? I think it may be a very good thing to spend more time with college applicants and more time understanding how we as educational institutions and educators can best serve them (or not) in this application process and beyond.

It has been terribly difficult for our daughter to make her college decisions because she has not seen and toured these schools in person or even talked to anyone there in person. There have been no spring fling or campus visit days. In fact, even after flying all the way from Atlanta to LA, we were unable to see dorms or classrooms or speak directly with any faculty members or students. We did ask permission to walk around campus, but that was all the interaction we had. It is a difficult situation for our daughter and feels more stressful and much less exciting than we had hoped. In fact, in the radio interview yesterday, the guest admissions officer spoke openly about the depression so many applicants described feeling through the pandemic. She shared how many applications took the opportunity to write about the impact of depression in their essays. I imagine they desperately wanted someone to hear. To really listen.

My daughter has told me many times in this past year how she has tried to talk with teachers and administrators about her stress, fatigue, and frustration. But, they, too, are overwhelmed and unable to really hear or help. On our weekend trip out west, she shared more with me than she had in a while about the burden she tries to bear. She told me that her friends ask why she doesn’t smile or laugh anymore. She is a school leader with a number of important responsibilities to faculty and to the students she represents. These responsibilities (especially those that are left undone during this time) weigh on her as she contemplates graduation and college. She fears that she cannot handle it all. Is not capable of dealing with this kind of stress from school. Might not make it in college. She desperately wants a place to learn and grow that is not like school now and where she has time for self-care and much less stress. It seems to me that all students and teachers deserve this. I come back to our need for a reality check—a recognition of 1) individual and systemic trauma in our schools, 2) the value and importance of mental health and holistic wellness in education, and 3) the challenges and barriers to these that have been amplified in the past year. We desperately need to reimagine our schools as equitable spaces for learning and growth, nourishment and nurturing.

My colleagues, family, and friends know that the rapidly rising rates of suicide in our nation and especially among our youth have been haunting me and weighing heavy on my heart. Amid COVID and the increasing depression, anxiety, substance abuse, and violence being reported since we started social distancing and closing schools and businesses, I have been even more preoccupied with youth depression and suicide. So, I was not really surprised at all to hear the story on the radio yesterday. The CDC reports that rates of suicide increased more than 30% in the decade between 2000 and 2010 and states that suicide is the second leading cause of death among those ages 10-34. Significantly, the suicide rate among children ages 10 to 17 increased by 70 percent between 2006 and 2016. Among teenagers, suicide attempts are often associated with feelings of stress, self-doubt, pressure to succeed, financial uncertainty, disappointment, and loss. For some teens, suicide may appear to be the only solution to their problems. However, depression and suicidal feelings are treatable and potentially preventable. But, it will take an organized effort to continue to move our country and our schools towards an acceptance and understanding of mental health. We have to stop disconnecting mental health from physical health. As humans, our minds are control centers for our bodies. If our minds are not healthy, then it is challenging (under the best circumstances) for our bodies to be healthy. As educators, we must take seriously the staggering statics on suicide and trauma and do our part to promote wellbeing and wellness among the children and youth that we have decided to serve.

The National Center for Education Statistics (NCES) reports that among schools with any type of mental health staff (counselor, psychologist, or social worker), most had a mental health staff ratio of 260 students per 1 staff member. This is even lower than the unreasonably low suggested standard. Professional standards recommend at least one counselor and one social worker for every 250 students, and at least one nurse and one psychologist for every 750 students! It is impossible for me to imagine how we think this acceptable for our young people, our children, our future. How are schools, administrators, and teachers going to work together with students and parents towards wellbeing and wellness without expert and professional support? Teachers are not trained in mental health and wellness, although I think it should be part of a required course moving forward. Teachers, administrators, and families depend on mental health staff to guide and direct programs, curriculum and needed social, emotional, and behavioral support. So, where are they? Why are there so few in our schools?

The American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) suggests that one reason for the lack of mental health staff is the funding being funneled into a growing police presence in schools. I can attest to that from my own experience. Even back in the early 2000s when I worked as a university practicum supervisor for student teachers, I was surprised by the number of police in our local middle schools. I had often seen police in high schools but never before in middle schools. It was hard for me to fathom why police were needed to monitor and control 11-13 year olds. I could feel the tension in the school hallways. There was little socializing, even during lunch, and students were hurried into classrooms between classes. On more than one occasion I saw a police officer take a student aside and push them against the wall for not responding appropriately (i.e. not stopping or answering a question). The ACLU argues, “today’s school children are experiencing record levels of depression and anxiety, alongside multiple forms of trauma.” The data and research show that schools with more school-based mental health providers have improved attendance rates, lower rates of suspension and other disciplinary incidents, expulsion, improved academic achievement and career preparation, and improved graduation rates. Additionally, the ACLU argues, there is no evidence to show that having police in schools improves overall school safety. In fact, police may be doing harm and inflicting trauma on students who have already had one or more adverse childhood experiences of trauma (ACEs).

The ACLU report points out that millions of students are in schools with law enforcement but with no appropriate staff to support wellbeing:

• 1.7 million students are in schools with police but no counselors.
• 3 million students are in schools with police but no nurses.
• 6 million students are in schools with police but no school psychologists.
• 10 million students are in schools with police but no social workers.
• 14 million students are in schools with police but no counselor, nurse, psychologist, or social worker.

I can’t help but think about the ways in which schools reflect society. We are so highly invested in policing and in weapons and warfare. We spend billions of dollars if not more in our attempts to create a sense of security and in turn have created systems that perpetuate violence and inequity. I wonder if it is possible for us to imagine a time when we do things differently. When we invest heavily in human beings, in the welfare and wellbeing of all humans. When we spend more, rather than less, on nurses, counselors, social workers, teachers, schools, libraries, and healthcare.  

In this sabbatical time I have been thinking a great deal about my future in education and where I want to put my time and attention. For the next two weeks, I am spending my mornings in an online certification course through the Harvard Medical School’s Program for Refugee Trauma. I am working towards a certificate in Trauma and Resiliency. I am still unsure about where my future paths in education will lead, but for now I recognize that I need a deeper understanding of trauma–both individual and systemic—and its effects on young people and their learning. There is so much to learn and so much work still to do.

Anything that’s human is mentionable, and anything that is mentionable can be more manageable. When we can talk about our feelings, they become less overwhelming, less upsetting, and less scary. — Fred Rogers

You look at me and cry; everything hurts. I hold you and whisper: but everything can heal. ― Rupi Kaur

Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light. — Albus Dumbledore from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Promise me you’ll always remember — you’re braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. — Christopher Robin from Winnie the Pooh

Tuesday, April 13: Schooling practices

I spent the past week, our local school spring break, with seventeen of our closest family and a few friends in a private compound on a secluded island. We had to rent a boat to get onto the island where there were no stores, restaurants, or paved roads. Over the past year, we missed many celebrations, so after much consideration and careful preparation we decided to go ahead with the sweet 16 birthday celebration we had been planning for nearly 3 years for our youngest daughter. Six in our group had already been vaccinated, all were COVID tested, and all were taking safety precautions prior to travel so that for at least those 7 days, we could enjoy the remote island and each other without worrying about COVID-19. It was an incredible gift to be free of the constant pressures of protecting myself and my family. Seeing each other’s smiles, sharing hugs, and just not having to think about distancing and disinfecting made the week all the more celebratory. It was a wonderful and much-needed break for all of us and a great privilege that I am so thankful to have had.

From time to time on the trip, I checked my Facebook page and saw many of my teacher friends posting about their spring break experiences. I thought about my own sabbath time each year in early April when I took a well-earned vacation from school. I never had a year when I didn’t take at least a few days off during spring break. That time between the beginning of January and April was always so full, and the time from mid-April to mid-May was almost always unbearable for me. Trying to manage exams, school celebrations, family birthdays and celebrations, weekend events, family-school conferences, fundraisers, report cards, standardized testing, new student intakes, staff evaluations, teacher contracts, and more made the end of the school year challenging at best for me as a teacher and Head of School. Typically, I would be in tears at the end of our spring break week, dreading the amount of work ahead of me. This year, it was my daughters who were crying and not me. From Friday on, they complained about the stress of school and how they desperately wished it would just end. While they have been hesitant to go back to school before after a long break, I have never heard or seen them like this ever before. They are utterly exhausted. From what I hear and see, their teachers are utterly exhausted. Somehow, they all must rally for End of Course exams, AP Exams, final projects and portfolios, conferences, awards ceremonies, and more. I wish that I could change this for them and for all the teachers and students who are feel the weight of this pandemic and the pressure of school in this strange time.

Throughout the day yesterday, my daughters came to me to share the things that were happening in school, especially those they could not understand or hadn’t previously planned for. That has been one of the commonalities of this pandemic, so much is unknown and constantly shifting. No one seems to know when things are happening or even sometimes why things are happening in their respective schools or classes. Teachers are unclear, students are unclear, and parents are definitely unclear.

Communication is often lacking between schools and families, but this pandemic has created chasms in communication among administration, teachers, and families. The communication barriers we have seen for so long seem to have grown bigger, and the bridges we have tried to build don’t’ bear up under the weight of all the unplanned, unknowns, and uncertainty. I still can’t believe all that has happened on most days. I never imagined a time when schools would be closed to students and teachers would work from their homes. I never considered the possibility that parents would become surrogate teachers while their children gathered around computers to learn.

I am thinking about the many educators and parents I know. About the fatigue and frustration they feel. About the toll this pandemic has taken on so many of us. I am wondering about how we can possibly do less and in turn do more. Not just now but even moving forward. How can we focus our limited energy, effort, and attention on our individual and collective wellness? How can we accept the fact that academics are not tantamount to our well being and that learning is ongoing, continuous, lifelong.

If we can come to view our lives as opportunities for practice and not as showcases for our achievements, products, and portfolios, perhaps we can begin to see schooling in new and different ways. I have been so disappointed and disheartened by the many reports and stories of student academic decline and learning loss since the pandemic started. What are students falling behind? Standard achievement goals? Why does this matter so much to us, especially during a health crisis and community equity crisis? If school could be about developing critical ways of thinking; skills for collaboration, learning, and practice; creativity and curiosity; and problem posing and solving, then students and parents would not have to fear falling behind, not measuring up, and not making the cut.

In addition to my questions about our purposes and goals in education, I am thinking deeply about the gaps and divides between home and school. Somehow these seem even bigger than before despite the fact that teachers and schools are actually reaching into students’ homes on a daily basis. Why is this the case? I know that in our family we are consistently surprised by the lack of communication coming from our schools and all that is unknown or unclear. I think about the power that could come from teachers and families really working together as partners in education. It seems to me that the strain of the pandemic and virtual schooling has put a strain on home-school relationships and magnified the tensions between the two. Parents are unsure about what they are doing in this new and unprecedented time. Teachers are unsure about what they are doing, too. If only we could be there to support each other in our collective efforts to support students, maybe it wouldn’t seem to overwhelming, maybe we could begin to reimagine our ways of schooling.

Too often in the past, parents felt unwelcome in schools and classrooms and the divide between home and school was well-defined. However, as research consistently showed the positive effects of home-school connections, it became essential for schools and teachers to prioritize parent engagement and inclusion. While there has been a strong shift in the right direction, schools, classrooms, and teachers are still often intimidating and scary for some parents, especially those who are not native English speakers, are undocumented, don’t fit typical family expectations, or may not have attended or had success in school. For parents who already feel incapable this barrier is an added stress during COVID-19. At a time when unprepared parents need teacher support for at-home and virtual schooling more than ever, the communication and connections seem to be sorely lacking.

Recent reports published by American Progress and Learning Heroes continue to find a robust relationship between parent involvement and academic success across all students, but especially among African American and Latinx students.In addition, a focus group with predominantly Black parents found that a negative school climate, including hostile interactions with teachers, was the primary barrier to effective communication. Honest and clear communication is essential for building relationships and creating home-school connections. More opportunities to bring teachers, administrators, and families together in dialogue are much needed, especially now and as we plan for the post-COVID years ahead. A renewed focus on home-school partnerships and on building bridges between teachers and families are required.

Sticks in a bundle are unbreakable. –Kenyan Proverb

Alone we can do so little. Together we can do so much. –Helen Keller

Education must not simply teach work – it must teach Life. –W.E.B. DuBois

The function of true education is to teach one to think intensively and to think critically. Intelligence plus character – that is the goal of true education. –Dr. Martin Luther King Jr

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