Strength Comes in the Waiting

 Recently, a precious friend and confidante shared these wise words with me:

 

“Strength comes in the waiting.”

 

It blew my mind. Strength in waiting?  I’m at my most vulnerable when faced with uncertainty…  Despising ambiguity, I’ve spent many years in the futile pursuit of control.  

 

Yet, as an educator, I know that “wait time” is a powerful tool in the classroom.  My faith in my students’ unwavering, I ask a question and let the invitation linger in the ether…  perhaps waiting until the silence grows uncomfortable, waiting until someone fills the void with a single tentative response… waiting until others delicately step forward with their own contributions… And then, the floodgates open, epiphany rushing forth lapping against the classroom walls, carrying the conversation along with the current of conjecture.  

 

“Strength comes in the waiting.”

 

I am humbled to think that I uphold this maxim as a teacher, but crumble when called to apply it outside of classroom discussions. I long to return to the education building and the palpable energy of my college campus, but the safest way for me to tender my students is through remote delivery for now. I take solace in the acknowledgement that an end to this ambiguity is inevitable, its nature divined by providence.  And, I've certainly learned a lot about online instruction over the past ten months. Resolve replaces the disequilibrium of uncertainty with calm assurance.  Strength comes from withstanding ambivalence, trusting an answer will arrive as promised, and learning as much as possible in the "between" time.

 

“Strength comes in the waiting.”

 

Teacher friends, in this time of WebEx meetings and recorded lessons, masks and face shields, distancing and quarantining, may we channel our anxieties, frustrations, fears, and disequilibrium to finding power in the wait... treading water and staying afloat while we anticipate the inevitable changing tides.  This isn’t forever. It’s simply for now.  While we wait, we’re blessed with the opportunity to develop some praxis.  What have we learned about ourselves?  To whom have we grown closer?  What have we learned to live with, and what have we learned to live without?  How have we grown in our craft?  What maxims and practices will we carry forward long after the current crisis comes to a close?  

 

Nurtured by faith, our strength grows as we wait.

Finding Footing Amidst the Sound and the Fury

Social media is flooded with memes right now… funny, irreverent, inspiring, demoralizing, sincere, disingenuous, inclusive, outright bigoted… I read and chuckle, ponder and react, unfollow and unfriend, or roll my eyes and keep scrolling through the never-ending cacophony of people hurling their opinions into the ether… having the same net effect as screaming into a thunderstorm.   

As with a Texas tempest in early summer, sometimes lightening strikes, startling and immobilizing us just long enough to see the familiar in new and frightening ways… illuminating our hubris… a bolt of electric truth cracking the seemingly impenetrable fortress walls of our inherently flawed yet stubbornly calcified world views… 

I’ve been chewing on this one for weeks:

For the first time in awhile, I clicked the "like" button and saved the image to my phone.  I'm going to carry this one with me.

This statement speaks directly to my engagements as a teacher educator. 

Distance learning works, and I'm a HUGE fan.  But, much like face-to-face learning, students' experiences vary widely depending on teacher training and expertise as well as access to resources. We need to continue our efforts to empower preservice teachers with the tools to transform teaching and learning with educational equity as the cornerstone for both face-to-face and online learning.   

Let's evaluate and revise our pedagogical practices for online teacher preparation, modeling the type of teachers we wish our students to be both in this type of crisis and beyond.  

The Association for Advancement of Computing in Education, conjunction with the Society for Information Technology and Teacher Education and the Learning and Technology Library, published this free eBook: Teaching, Technology, and Teacher Education During the COVID-19 Pandemic: Stories from the Field.

Click on the image to access to free eBook.

Sections include: online pedagogical strategies, community and collaboration, alternative field experiences in pre-service teacher education, pre-service teacher education methods and pedagogy, K-16 educator professional development, digital tools, and equity issues.  

Needless to say, this resource is a great place to start!

We can't lead the way unless we walk the talk.  A big part of the change in education begins with the teachers of teachers.  We've got push harder for universal access and continue to broaden the inclusivity of our methodologies.

Reflections on a Summer of Remote Teaching

I just completed a summer session teaching remotely for a local university.  Previous to this term, I always felt that my strengths were instructional agility and lesson design… the ability to intuitively navigate the tides of energy in the physical classroom and the acumen to plan instruction that engages and inspires students.  Movement. Connection. Collaboration. Challenge. Reflection. Laughter.  

When I discovered my instruction would be online only for the foreseeable future, I was rattled.  How can I leverage those strengths in a digital space?  Discomfort morphed to resolve and (if I’m being completely transparent) a little excitement.  In order to give my students the best experience possible, it was time to grow again.  

My mantra as a professor is to “walk the talk.”  It means that I employ the same philosophies and pedagogies with my preservice teachers as I expect them to use in their own classrooms someday.  Every student is a treasure.  Every interaction is meaningful.  Every learning experience is a movement in the opus of my instruction. The bass drum carries the tune, but even the smallest pluck of a violin string can add or detract from the learning.  Details matter.

So, I got to work.  I talked to mentors about instructional technology and digital learning tools.  I tried things out.  I failed.  I got frustrated. I watched one YouTube video after another.  I redoubled my efforts. I squealed with delight at my successes. In short, I learned.  The dissonance was palpable, but well worth the epiphanies that inevitably followed.

In the end, I crafted a remote learning experience for my students for which I was proud.  For five weeks, my students worked through modules in our learning management system (Canvas) corresponding with topics from our textbook.  Each module included a Bitmojo classroom landing page, virtual lectures created with Screencastify with optional note-taking guide, a teacher’s toolkit extension activity taking full advantage of G-Suite, a quiz, as well as a feedback form made with Google Forms.  

In addition to the modules, students participated in a weekly Circle-Up via Zoom.  They had the option to join the morning or afternoon session in which we followed a Peardeck presentation that included a community-building activity, a book talk and reader response activity related to award-winning children’s literature, as well as a deep dive related to topics such as minilessons, instructional objectives, and the Science of Teaching Reading Certification exam.  

Moreover, I hosted virtual office hours via Zoom every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, as well as by appointment.  I was available to my students from 8am-8pm seven days a week.  We Zoomed, Facetimed, emailed, talked on the phone, and text messaged… whatever it took to support their learning and get them successfully across the finish line of the course.

I also provided detailed feedback on... Each. And. Every. Assignment.  I worked well into the night (weekdays and weekends) to give my students the type of constructive feedback that will enhance their learning and show them how they are to review their own students’ work someday.

All in, I put in roughly 70 hours a week planning instruction, delivering instruction, providing quality feedback, and supporting student learning.... And learn they did! Here's what some of my students had to say at the end of the term:

Regarding virtual lectures...

On a scale of 1-5, 5 being “strongly agree,” my students rated their level of agreement with the following statement:

The Virtual Lectures contributed to my learning.

94.1% - 5

5.9% - 4

Optional comments included: 

“You added fun elements that we could engage with (the tv show clips), you kept it at a nice time length, you expressed personality and style over a mic, and everything was really clear and followed the note-taking guide, so I truly have no suggestions for this module.”

“I really enjoyed the virtual lectures!”

“love the virtual lectures!”

Regarding Teacher’s Toolkit Activities...

On a scale of 1-5, 5 being “strongly agree,” my students rated their level of agreement with the following statement:

The Teacher’s Toolkit built my capacity to apply chapter content in a classroom setting.

88.2% - 5

11.8% - 4

Optional comments included: 

“I thought this activity was very fun and a great tool to use.”

“I found the video that went along with this assignment to be very helpful to complete task”

“This toolkit was very helpful in getting a feel in what effectively helps students learn the reading and writing processes, so no suggestions for this either.”

My minor point: Remote learning works.

My major point: Teachers preparing for digital instruction right now are going to take excellent care of our children come the start of school. They're going to tender our children as good as if not better than I care for mine.

I am not the exception.  I represent the norm.  And, to be honest, there are so many that far outpace me when it comes to digital learning. My craft was nurtured and refined in one of our own North Central Texas school districts, where I served alongside teachers who continue to come early, stay late, and lose sleep over our community’s children.

I can only imagine our children’s teachers feel a little like I did at the start of the summer.  They’re apprehensive, but excited.  They love what they do so much, and they love their students even more.  They’re endeavoring to do familiar things in unfamiliar ways and there will inevitably be proverbial hits and misses.  They're working hours and hours and hours to design instruction that is engaging and effective. I ask that we show them the same kind of grace that my students showed me.  We are all in this together.  Perfection is a myth.  Learning is the goal.  Let’s extend to our teachers the respect they deserve.  After all, they’re not just in it for five weeks.  They’re giving our children the entire year.

A Testament to Great Teachers

I wrote the following piece about my son Town after his 1st grade awards ceremony in 2018.  It serves as testament to the power of giving children ownership of their successes.  

Today was the first grade awards ceremony at my son's elementary school. Every child walked across the stage with a backdrop detailing his or her self-described greatest accomplishment this school year as well as a list of all the awards he or she earned for scholarship and character. Many children were proud of their math scores, reading levels, and sports prowess. Their accolades included certificates for the “Great Gator” award and “iStation” award. Every child marched across the stage into the warm embrace of his or her teacher and accepted a packet filled with tokens of their triumphs.

My son, Town Hancock, didn’t get an award. He made appropriate gains in his studies. His behavior was acceptable. However, he did nothing academically exceptional this school year. He is amazingly, perfectly, wonderfully "average"… and that’s okay.

In fact, it’s more than okay. It’s magnificent! My boy is right on track. I’m glad that his school honored his growth but didn't over-indulge him with accolades for doing exactly what he was supposed to do in first grade. I’m glad that they praised actual effort and celebrated hard-earned results. I’m glad that his teachers didn’t commend him for simply doing the right thing *most* of the time.

Town didn’t get an award, but he was downright jubilant when his name was called. You see, his teachers gave him a way to claim and publicly celebrate something for which he is truly proud.

My son walked across the stage to accept his reading certificate while the screen displayed the quote he provided on his greatest perceived success of the school year. Despite getting limited time with digital devices at home, Town said:

“I am most proud of finding diamond ore in Minecraft.”

Bold choice considering some of the other children's celebrations...

Towner understands he has a lot to learn, but he’s comfortable in his own skin. For a boy with one ear… For a child who struggles to sit still… For a kid who never thinks twice about telling the joke, making the face, or letting one rip… For an individual whose stubbornness rivals only that of his mother… Odds are, school will be a struggle and his self-assuredness will suffer.

However, Town beat the odds in first grade. He bet seventeen against the dealer, certain of his cards, and he won. He may not have had the highest iStation score, the best marks in math, or even the rosiest behavior chart, but our boy won. He won because, in addition to teaching core content, his teachers allowed him to revel in the miraculous wonderment of childhood imagination. They permitted him to consider his worth on a grander scale and to award himself fittingly.

As parents, we worry about our children. We worry when they aren’t making good grades. We worry when they’re too focused on straight A's. We worry if they don’t have a lot of friends. We worry when we think they might have too many social obligations. We worry that they’re too laid back. We worry that they’re too serious. We worry that their egos will be crushed if they don’t win a prize every time they take a relative risk. Me? I worry too. But, not so much at the moment...

Today, Town Hancock is proud to be Town Hancock. Man, do I ever look up to this boy! He has a lot to teach me about whimsy, resiliency, and confidence.

Daily Schedule at Casa de Hancock in the Days of COVID-19

The following is a piece I wrote a few weeks into March of 2020 with distance learning in full effect for our elementary-age children.  Written as a tongue-in-cheek response to a lot of social media posts featuring homeschool schedules and pictures of happy children diligently completing their schoolwork, it endeavors to present a more accurate portrayal of the daily work-and-learn-from-home schedule for families enjoying the same relative privilege as mine...  seeking authenticity and humility in my portrayal.

Daily Schedule at Casa de Hancock

6:30am - Daddy wakes up, complaining his neck hurts, and goes to "work" in the home office. Mommy wakes up and starts caffeinating, checking email, and catching up on the news.

7 - Children wake up and watch 'Bunk'd.'

7:30 - Child A is tired of 'Bunk'd' and wrestles Child B for the remote. Things escalate quickly.

7:31 - Mommy breaks up fight and sits down to watch what those crazy kids at Camp Kikiwaka are up to today, loses interest, immerses herself in social media from her phone.

8am - Mommy prepares breakfast (sausage biscuits and fruit) for little people. Children eat the fruit and half of a biscuit, feed the sausage to the dog.

8:15 - Children complain they are "starving." Mommy slaves over a second breakfast (cereal and milk) for little people. Children eat two spoonfuls and pronounce themselves "stuffed."

9 - Schoolwork with Child A (all four lessons complete in record time)

10 - Schoolwork with Child B - Attempt #1

10:25-10:35 - Time out #1 for Child B

10:35 - Schoolwork with Child B Attempt #2

10:40 - Bribes offered to Child B. Child B declines bribes, pulls back of shirt over his head, goes mute.

10:45 - Child B breaks pencil and throws it on the ground.

10:47 - Child B loses Nintendo Switch for 24 hours.

10:48 - Schoolwork with Child B Attempt #2 aborted

11 - Snacktime for children. Mommy practices deep breathing.

11:30am-12:30pm - Children play outside while Daddy supervises and Mommy goes on a run.

12:30 - Daddy serves lunch to the little people (ham and cheese Lunchables). Children eat the cookies first, then the cheese, leave the rest for the dog.

1 - Schoolwork with Child B Attempt #3

1:10 - Child B rips up worksheet.

1:10-1:20 - Timeout #2 for Child B

1:20-2:20 - Schoolwork for Child B - Attempt #4 and... Success!!! (Well, 3/4 lessons complete... Good enough!)

2:30-3:30 - Children take lovely walk with Mommy, even holding her hands. Mommy tries to commit every moment of the walk to memory. She's SO happy.

4-5 - Mommy and children color. Mommy draws 2 animals. Child B draws 3 poop emoji monsters.

5-6 - Daddy makes dinner. Family eats together. Three people fart audibly at the table.

6-6:15 - Children "pick up" the common areas.

6:15-6:30- Daddy explains that pushing trash under the couch is not picking up. Children throw apple cores and yogurt containers previously hidden under the couch in the trash.

6:30-7 - Children "bathe" by running the shower and wetting their heads, return downstairs in pajamas.

7-7:05 - Mommy smells children's hair and sends them back to bathe for real... with soap!

7:30-8 - Family snuggles and watches a show.

8 - Children go to bed.

8:01 - Mommy pours herself a HUGE glass of Chardonnay.

8:07 - Mommy falls asleep.

8pm-1am - Daddy watches zombie shows, falls asleep sitting up on the couch chin to chest. 

An Open Letter to My Son's Kindergarten Teacher

I wrote the following poem on the eve of my oldest son's first day of kindergarten in 2016.  Teachers, families send us their whole world when they send their children to school.  And, the whole world needs us to tender them well.

Dear Teacher,

Today, I present you with my Town.

This boy,

This child,

Is the whole world to me.

I’m his mother.

The very best of me has gone into him.

You did not see him take his first steps.

You missed his first words.

The way his eyes lit up the first time he tried a banana

You never heard the peals of giggles my baby released when something tickled his fancy.

The way he stuck out his elbows and wiggled his bottom to the chicken dance

The day he ran his first race

His first trip to the movies

His first and second soccer goal

Dancing in the rain

Flying a kite

And the thousands of other seemingly insignificant little things that mothers revel in when their babies are small

I was there for all of that.

Those memories are mine, locked tight in my heart, steeling me for days like this.

A day that marks firsts that I will not witness

In these miraculous moments, you will be by his side.

The first time he recognizes the letters of the alphabet

The first time he reads

The first time he answers a question correctly

Totals up sums

Makes an elementary school friend

Deals with adversity

Moving through a system in which he will be measured, grouped, and counted

Today, I give him to you… though only for a few hours each day.

Be gentle with this little soul.

His whimsy, his imagination, his humor

All are fragile.

You have the power to magnify these gifts.

He is more than a size, a label, or a number.

You understand every child holds a universe of potential.

Let your light beckon him,

Like the star of Bethlehem lit the Magi’s path

Toward the salvation of epiphany

Thank you for being the first of many to help him become the man he is meant to be.

Sincerely,

Mom (formerly known as "Mommy")

Needless to say, his teachers took excellent care of our Town!  I strive every day to care for my preservice teachers in the way that my son's teachers tendered him.

From Ripples to Waves

Teachers are makers of nations.  Our job is to walk the talk. This includes doing everything we can to communicate to our beloved students that they matter, that their perspectives matter, and that small kindnesses (like skipping stones) matter. The art of teaching is in nuance, in the ripple effect of the daily positive meaningful interactions educators have with our "kids"... a progression of concentric circles carrying positive influence to places further than one’s immediate reach... perhaps disrupting the status quo’s placidity and complacency just long enough to make waves on previously untouched shores... communicating that we are all of value. Our children are watching, so do not just talk about it. Show them in word and in deed that all (not just those that look like us, talk like us, live like us, love like us, and worship like us) deserve a voice, respect, and equity.