Desperate Joy: Reflecting on my priorities after leading a school during a pandemic since 2020
Plus what I'm reading and writing
On Monday, the three boys finally found me in the hallway as I walked to my office.
“Is now a good time to check out the drain? We are going out to recess.” I checked the time and agreed this would work. Their eyes light up. I took my computer and notebook to my office, then grabbed my jacket and a flashlight before heading outside.
For a while now, these three students have been asking me to help address a problem on the playground: kickballs and other equipment getting into the drain.
The first time they asked me, I encouraged them to speak with our custodian.
Not getting far, I agreed to check in with them one afternoon (and I forgot).
After their third request, I put it on my calendar but got called away for a student behavioral issue.
Now they had my full attention. As we walked toward the playground doors, one of the students opened up his pocket notebook to show me his sketch of how to address the problem. “If we weld on some metal bars in the front, the balls will stay out.”
I congratulated him on his creativity.
I was also feeling guilty about not prioritizing their initiative.
To be fair, everything that had been suspended, such as standardized testing and teacher observations, was back. We are also dealing with the specter of the pandemic. Positive cases are still occurring. Will a new variant put us right back into lockdown?
If you weren’t working in schools daily during the pandemic, it’s hard to put into words what it was like.
A rough analogy: a flood that hit our buildings, upending almost everything we relied on for teaching and learning while educators were hanging on to anything to stay afloat.
Discussions during reading were relegated to Zoom chats or spaced-out desks.
Kids had to wait to check out books for five days while texts sat in “quarantine”.
You couldn’t sit by your friends from another classroom during lunch.
As the pandemic “flood” slowly and hopefully recedes, we are left dealing with both the aftermath of the catastrophe while also expected to pick up where we left off two years ago, as if nothing happened.
For many of us, leading and teaching in schools still feels like double the work.
So I gave myself some grace as we walked down to the drain.
The entry point for the drain is located next to the swings and playground equipment. One student took the flashlight, knelt down, and peered into the dark tunnel. “I see three…no, four balls in there.” Not to be outdone, another student grabbed the flashlight from his friend after he was done and started crawling into the drain.
“Uh…it would not be good if you got stuck in there, especially when the principal is the one supervising this operation.” They laughed, and the one student continued to inch his way further into the drain. “Okay, let’s come out of there and see what’s on the other side of this drain,” I said in a low voice while stifling my own laughter.
A fascination with our school’s drainage system is not something I would have arrived at as a learning experience without these students. Maybe we are more appreciative of these small, impromptu adventures after two years of health measures and isolation.
Challenges make what we take for granted more visible.
In an interview with Emily St. John Mandel, author of Station Eleven (a book that also became a television series about a pandemic), she describes her intention of creating a sense of hope in spite of their challenges:
“It's been a long pandemic. Yeah, the series has this air of—it's a kind of desperate joy, for lack of a better phrase. What they're doing is really difficult, bringing a sense of joy into this postapocalyptic world. That’s maybe easier to do in fiction than it is on the screen because the show has to visually depict this fairly grim reality.”
Her phrase, “desperate joy”, reminded me of another author’s turn of words, Elizabeth Gilbert: “stubborn gladness”, from Light the Dark: Writers on Creativity, Inspiration, and the Artistic Process (edited by Joe Fassler):
“As someone who struggles with anxiety and cowardice, as well all do, I’m profoundly inspired by this full-on commitment to wonder, to wonder as a response to anguish or difficulty. It makes everything a puzzle, right? A catastrophe is nothing but a puzzle with the volume of drama turned up very high. For now, I’m best with stubborn gladness when taking on the challenges in my writing life. Because writing can be a very dramatic pursuit, full of catastrophes and disasters and emotion and attempts that fail. My path as a writer became much more smooth when I learned, when things are going well, to regard my struggles as curious, not tragic." (p. 18, my emphasis)
We don’t need to spin productive narratives about our circumstances - it can feel like toxic positivity. Rather, simply be more present.
After failing to find anything at the mouth of the drain, we proceeded to pick up the balls that were kicked over the fence into the oak savanna near our school.
“So, should we look into attaching a metal grate for the top of the drain?” asked one of the boys. I acknowledged that it could help, then paused. “It is supposed to rain pretty heavily tonight.”
They all paused; one perked up. “Do you think the balls at the top of the drain will wash out?” We nodded and agreed to see what the rains would bring us the next day.
“We don’t need to spin productive narratives about our circumstances - it can feel like toxic positivity. Rather, simply be more present.”
Later this week, I spoke with one of the boys’ parents over the phone about an unrelated issue.
“He really appreciated you taking the time to look at the drain with his friends.” This family had recently gone through a divorce. I was surprised to hear the parent say this, and explained that it was no problem, happy to help. “I know you are busy, so thank you for doing that, especially with everything we’ve gone through.”
Some students have fallen behind during the pandemic. Yet the rhetoric around “learning loss” and similar concerns that reveal people’s anxieties don’t feel helpful.
Instead, I hope we can put this catastrophe to good use and discover what we’ve learned.
Time spent with students - not just teaching them, but learning with them - is always time well spent.
Trying to see the positive in a challenge sometimes just needs a little reframing.
Often, simple experiences that students find relevant are the most memorable.
Student joy is directly correlated with our own professional well-being.
We often have no idea how our actions will impact our students’ lives.
What I’m Reading
I post all my reviews of what I’m reading on Goodreads.
Outside, Inside by LeUyen Pham
A personal depiction of the pandemic, using the contrast of what was happening outside and inside to frame important themes of compassion, resilience, and hope. (h/t Brian, Ruth and the Choice Literacy crew for selecting this text for book club.)
Intervention Reinvention: A Volume-Based Approach to Reading Success by Stephanie Harvey, Annie Ward, Maggie Hoddinott, Suzanne Carroll
I can see this book sitting on a teacher's shelf of go-to resources: coming back to the assessments and practices as they constantly support students as readers. Intervention Reinvention is an important innovation for not only helping striving readers, but to also rethink a school's approach to developing engaged, literate individuals. (h/t Lois for sharing this book with me)
The Moth Presents All These Wonders: True Stories About Facing the Unknown by Catherine Burns (ed.)
I saw this book in a store collection of graduate gifts. Anyone can find inspiration from this anthology of stories originally told on "The Moth Presents" stage.
If I were teaching high school English, I would build a whole unit around this work as a mentor text. Lots of entry points for personal narratives, speaking and listening, and honoring every student's life experiences as a fund of knowledge.
Better than Life by Daniel Pennec
An ode to reading itself. Much needed right now and anytime reading is reduced by pundits to only a neurochemical process. (h/t Regie for sharing this book with me.)
One of many favorite quotes:
Later by Stephen King
The author seems to have found a perfect partner in crime fiction with his horror writing. I know he has integrated these genres in the past (The Dead Zone, Mr. Mercedes). This book in the "hard case crime" series that includes other authors positions the supernatural aspect more as the context. It works.
What I’m Writing
I’ve been publishing daily essays the last three weeks using Typeshare and Twitter. Here are five of the most well-received posts.
What are you thinking, reading, writing?
