Last Post of 2021. Looking ahead. One Word for 2022

 I didn't write a #OneWordx12 post for November.

I didn't write for December, either. 

But I thought about them a lot. I thought about what my word(s) might be. A lot. I almost sat down to write a number of times. But I didn't. The last 2 years have been so heavy. Have been so much. Have carried so much baggage into our daily lives. 

I started my #OneWordx12 posts back in January of 2020 when it was somewhat pre-pandemic times. COVID was around but it wasn't here yet (it probably was...). Schools were still open. I went out to dinner with friends. I attended OLASC. I became the OSLA VP and spent a weekend in Toronto at a table with with other people. I shopped. It was the end of life as we knew it and the start of now. 

When I started choosing and writing my one word per month Doug Peterson thought it was a great idea. The world was changing so rapidly and how could one word ever hope to encompass and entire year? Choosing a new word each month allowed me to reflect on what I was feeling, where the world was, how education was changing and (puke) pivoting to this new reality. 

But after 2 years of choosing words and thinking about where I was, where we were, and where we were all going ... it started to feel heavy as well. My #OneWordx12 project started to feel connected to the pandemic even though it didn't start out that way. I started to feel like I was always reflecting on the things we'd lost, the negatives that were part of our new routines and not on the joy that still exists in our world. The joy that still exists in schools and the school library. 

The word "normal" is such a weird word. It barely describes anything if you really think about it. One person's normal almost never matches another person's normal. There is no central normal that fits society. Normal is about as far from normal as we can get. It's a lazy word used to describe the past that wasn't ever normal but maintained a certain comfort level for a small percentage of people. 

Normal is definitely a colonialist construct. 

Matthew R. Morris wrote a thought provoking blog post about being "Back to Normal. Sort of." and I found myself re-reading it and being drawn into the ideas from it a number of times throughout November and December. Being back at school feels almost normal but not. The library is open and students are getting books but they can only come in whole class groups, every other week which is not normal. They are so happy to be in the space choosing books and tinkering with small stations but I am constantly reminding students to pull up their masks and to maintain distance which is not normal. Some of the kids ask about whether the library is safe, is it clean, is it okay to be in there since they weren't allowed last year... which is not normal and devastatingly sad. 

And always on the back of my mind is the question of whether the "normal" of the library was ever good enough to begin with? Were all students able to access the library in a way that supported them and their learning needs? Was free flow an equitable model when not all educators supported and allowed students to come to the space? How might the return to free flow book exchange look different after COVID in order to create a more equitable space for all learners? 

You could say that my word for November and December was normal. Or the reflection on the word normal. What might normal mean? Do we even want to return to normal? Is normal a word that we even want to use in relation to the school library? 

I will not be continuing my #OneWordx12 for 2022. 

I guess you could say I'll be returning to the "normal" of choosing just one word for year... or I won't. I haven't really decided. I like the idea of choosing a word for myself personally but can't wrap my head around how it might encompass all that is my professional life as a teacher-librarian. I'd like to write more about the everyday happenings in the library, about the books I'm reading, the resources I'm curating, the thought processes that goes into all of it. I'd like to blog more. I'd like to set a goal to blog more and stick to it. I'd like to find a way to be intentional in my blogging and reflecting. The #OneWordx12 did help with that... how might I adapt the process of choosing one word each month to maintain my intentions as I reflect on the school library and education? 

Today is the last day of 2021 and while the new year typically brings thoughts of renewal and hope it seems very muted and far from hopeful this year. Omicron has become a normal word in our vocabulary. We still use pivot and unprecedented (puke) way too often. The education system (especially here in Ontario) feels like a raging dumpster fire most days. But there are the moments and small pockets of joy. And without falling into the dangers of toxic positivity I do think we need to share and revel in those moments... and the reflection they should prompt. How might we recreate these small moments for others? What actions might help to spread joy? How can we learn to live within our current reality without constantly obsessing over it? 

Maybe that's where the intentional nature of blogging will come from- normal/not normal and pockets of joy? Perhaps two posts each month?

Time will tell. 

Teaching Loss and Recovery.

I've been thinking a lot about teaching loss lately. It's an idea that has been weighing heavily on my mind. Pav Wander wrote a great bog post called "Is Teaching Loss a Myth, Too" that really resonated with me and has been sticky in my mind for the last month. (There's also a link to an episode of the Staffroom Podcast within Pav's blog that's totally worth a listen.)

The first month back to school this year has been hard. 

In many ways it's been harder than September 2020. 

There seems to be more emphasis on a return to "normal" even as the fourth wave of the pandemic is knocking at the door. In the school library learning commons I feel as though I have been walking a tight rope balancing act of what I know and believe to be good pedagogy and learning experiences for students against the current COVID protocols. Our space is set to open this week for the first set of students to test out the new routines and while I am beyond excited to have students in the space again I also know that every question related to making, tinkering, loose parts, Lego, Keva Planks etc is going to add a small new crack to my heart. I hope we can get back there soon. I hope once we see the routines in place and people are feeling more comfortable we will get back there. 

But my biggest fear is that we wont.

It's already been determined that I can't co-teach and collaborate in our space due to the size and shape of the tables. The students must all face forward and with pentagonal shaped tables that means only one student per table and I only have 13 tables. Once again, I am hoping that once the library routines are in place and I can better understand the time commitment needed to re-shelve and deal with book exchange without the benefit of helpers that I will be able to visit classes in their space to co-teach and collaborate. 

But my biggest fear is that we wont. 

People keep saying that we will get back to having a maker space. We will get back to having a free flow exchange system. We will get back to a school library that hums with students and excitement. 

But my biggest fear is that we wont. 

So how does this relate to teaching loss? 

Well, in my experience most educators' social and professional support circles contain a lot of other educators. And those in your circle who aren't educators don't always understand the nuances of the issues we are facing. So in my opinion, one of the biggest issues of teaching loss right now is the lack of a support system from within our own circles. Normally, educators would be able to be the shoulder to lean on, the ear to listen, the one to cry to, etc. But as we look back over the last 18 months of the pandemic and beyond that as public education has been under attack here in Ontario for almost 4 years people are wiped out. 

Exhausted. Depleted.  

I know that I often feel like I don't have the reserves to adequately support my friends when they are struggling at work and I always feel like I don't want to be the one to burden them with my own worries. I think we can describe this as teaching loss. Usually educators would be chatting in the hall, sharing ideas, thinking up unique ways to collaborate and co-teach. But the halls are quiet. People are trying to find a place they feel comfortable enough to un-mask and eat. Staff meetings and team meetings are virtual so there are people in my building I haven't even seen in person yet this year. No one is interested in the extras- teams, clubs, committees, etc. Everyone is tired. I also think many educators have rethought their priorities in terms of family time and volunteer time. If the extra that you gave in the past hasn't been valued or respected then how in times of stress and depletion do we keep on giving?

I'm worried for my colleagues and for myself. 

How do we get back to the joy of teaching when it seems like there isn't an end in sight to the struggle? 

How do we support ourselves and each other when it feels like we are already at the bottom? 

How do we trust that what we have lost isn't lost forever?

I think because of these thoughts that I am struggling to come up with my #OneWordx12 for October. In September I went with embrace and I did make a list of things I was grateful for and that made gave me moments of happiness. 

Perhaps a good choice of words is RECOVERY. 

What will be uncovered as we re-open the library? What new ways of connecting will be discovered through our virtual story times. How might we recover our joy? 

Slice of Life: What's That Smell?

 My husband has a very sensitive nose. When we first moved into together and at the start of our marriage, I had to tie up the compost before he could take it out because he couldn't handle the smell. When our oldest daughter was born I had some genuine concerns about his ability to change a dirty diaper without being ill himself. His gag reflex to smells is quite something. 

So when he tells me there is a smell in the house, I believe him. 

We have a small hallway that leads to the powder room on our main floor. We have hooks there for the girls backpacks and coats. They line up their shoes under the hooks. We also have the dog's food at the end of the hallway that leads to a door for the yard. We never use the door because this house also has two patio doors that we can use to access the yard. So the hallway is just for the dog, the kids, and a means to get to the washroom. 

I had put a small carpet runner down on the floor because my husband and father-in-law were coming in all the time in their work boots to use the washroom as they work on the addition and deck we are adding to the house. So when my husband announced last night that he could smell urine we assumed our very senior dog had had an accident. 

My husband also likes to be thorough. So he sniffed every pair of shoes. Each backpack. Looked in the backpacks. Sniffed my purse. MY PURSE!!! As if. Nothing else smelled like urine so we removed the carpet runner and he mopped the tile floor.

I left for work. 

Then I got a text. "It still smells like urine. But I scrubbed the grout."

Okay, so maybe this was going to be a bigger problem. Maybe our poor dog had been having accidents and we had overlooked it? Maybe it had soaked into the baseboards?

When I came home I took a turn to scrub the tiles and the baseboards. Lots of elbow grease and our strongest cleaner. 

He could still smell it. 

But what else to do? I Googled "cleaning dog urine from tiles" and found that a 1:1 ratio of vinegar and water would do the trick. I promised to do it again after my workout. Then I headed downstairs to get on the bike and then a stretching class. Partway through my stretching class I heard a crash and some grumbling. I yelled up the stairs, "Everything ok?"

"Yup." Came the response and then the thud of feet on the stairs. "I figured out the cause of the smell."

"Oh?" was my response as I thought we'd already figured this out. 

"Yup. Dead mouse in the vent."

Ummmmm, gross. Disgusting. Seriously??

But do you think this means that we've solved the problem of the mice in the bread drawer?

Slice of Life: Car Rides

 

When I think back on my time as a mom it's always the car rides around town, on the way to the store or running errands, that the kids share funny ideas, ask questions and actually engage in some pretty meaningful conversations. Ever since the pandemic we have been on very few of these types of car trips as we often keep the girls at home and one of us runs out to do the errands, shopping, etc. 

Now that school is starting and the girls are headed back in-person they need clothes and other supplies. So last Friday my oldest and I head out into the wilds of clothes shopping together. As she is turning 11 and a "tween" clothes shopping together is not always the most fun thing we do.... and that's an understatement. 

The car ride was magic. As my car is new I have a trial subscription to XM satellite radio and we have access to fun channels like "90's on 9" where my daughter is able to hear the music I grew up listening to as a teen. Now that I am a mom I do hear the lyrics in many songs in a different light and just brace myself for the questions that will inevitably come up but it's still a fun time. My daughter came up with a game as we were driving- Could I name an artist from the 90's starting at A and work through the alphabet all the way to Z? We discovered very quickly that I could not! So we expanded the game to any artists from any genre. That I could do! 

I miss the short car rides around town that were a part of our usual weekly routine. Somehow that time in car, listening to music and on the way to a new location always lends itself to a little magic. Whether it's the funny things my children blurt out, in-depth questions and social justice discussions or just sharing music those car rides were always memorable. I hope we are on our way back to that soon. 

Embrace September.

 As I have seen many people post on a variety of platforms... wow, it's already September.

How does that happen?

As I was working on my word for September I was trying to decide if it should have a personal focus (as many of my words have had this year) or a professional focus. However, since it is September and that means back to school I don't really see how I can separate the two. 

This will be my 19th year as a teacher and I haven't missed a single first day of school in all that time. Not even the year I was on mat leave with my oldest daughter as my husband and I split the leave and he took over in September so I could go back to school. Not the year I was pregnant with my second daughter (due in November) and had to start my leave 2 months early due to complications. I still started the school as usual and worked for 9 days (while mainly sitting in a chair...). 

18 first days of school as an educator. 13 first days of school as an elementary or secondary school student. 6 first days of school as an undergraduate or teacher-candidate. 

That's 37 first days of school in my life. 

And I can't say that I am looking forward to number 38. 

For the first time ever. 

The pandemic has changed me. The ongoing attack on public education has changed me. 

I often feel like I have lost a part of myself in the last 2 years. 

I know that I am quieter than I used to be. I know that I prefer to be home with just my husband and children more now. I have less time and patience for other people. And for myself. 

I am less excited about the upcoming school year. Even though it looks like libraries will be open in some capacity it still feels harder to be excited. 

I am worried for my friends and colleagues. They are still so sad, so tired, so demoralized.

Embrace.

But I believe under it all I am still an optimist. I still have the capacity to look for the good. So while a part of me continues to mourn for the me that's lost, I want to use September to embrace the good things. To look for the small moments of joy in hopes of finding my excitement again. 

In hopes of finding me. 

 I think I shall start a list. Because to be honest, there's nothing more me than a list! A list of the good things. A list of the times I feel embraced in light. A list of the moments where joy shines through.

Slice of Life: Sunday Evenings

Sunday evenings can be the best and the worst part of the whole week. 

This past Sunday we returned home in the late afternoon from a weekend of camping with cousins. Seven kids under the age of 11 and six adults, three of whom are related as siblings or first cousins and their spouses. It was a wonderful two nights and two days of swimming, hiking, hammocks and eating around the fire. We were all gloriously tired from all the fun, late night glow stick dance parties and living in the fresh air. 

However, returning on Sunday evening meant unpacking the camping gear and getting ready for the week ahead. First up was determining which food that was in cooler was salvageable, then getting the laundry into the wash for the girls to wear to day camp the next day. Of course, in the midst of all this getting the girls into the shower or bath to chip off three days worth of dirt from living and playing outside. And did we order the pizza yet for dinner? 

As the girls were getting clean I began to pack up their lunches and gear for day camp on Monday. This week they would be attending an outdoor nature school camp so that also mean packing an extra duffle of clothes, rain gear, boots and shoes for the inevitable moment when one (or both) of the girls fell head first into the river or mud during the week. 

Once the girls were clean, hair brushed and settled in to watch a movie I checked on the laundry, transferred the wash to the dryer and put in a new load. Then I checked to see if the dishwasher was done so I could unload it and start to pack away the camping gear. Then off to grab a shower before the pizza arrived. 

Finally, everyone was clean and the pizza had arrived for dinner. Time to settle in on the couch to catch up on a favourite show with my husband before bedtime. 

The quiet of a Sunday evening descended upon the house as we all were finally at rest before another week of summer fun. 

System.

Definition from Merriam-Webster. 

https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/system

I want to start with thanking everyone who read my last post and reached out with words for support. I also want to thank everyone who read my last post and reached out to say that my words helped them. Lastly, I want to think everyone who read my last post and aren't ready to talk, seek support, or reach out but found comfort in my journey. 

My word for August is system. 

I chose this word as a continuation of my one word from June/July. As we careen towards September and back to school with "the plan" here in Ontario so much continues to feel out of our control. 

Out of our control as educators, as parents, as a community. 

I continue to struggle with my own mental health, feeling rested and healed. Knowing that September is coming and that I will be thrown back into the worry of the past 18 months often feels like a heavy weight. Our family has made the decision to send our children back to in-person school because they did not enjoy the remote/online school and they need the interaction with their friends. But not a day goes by that I don't question that decision. Neither of my children are old enough for the vaccine. My parents and in-laws have underlying health concerns that will result in us limiting our exposure to them. Again. I will be working in a school of close to 800 students and then coming home to my children as well. 

It's a lot. 

It's been a lot for so long. 

As I write this my daughters are in a day camp. We wanted them to have some practice and exposure to being with kids and other people before school starts so it's not so jarring. They are going for two weeks and then we have two more weeks to rest before the end of the summer. The decision to have them go to camp and inter-mingle with other kids was a hard one. They have struggled with separation anxiety since the start of the pandemic. They worry about the lack of space that other kids give to those around them. But they are eager in the morning to go and try something new. They are eager to be with people their age. 

And I am eager to have time to myself. It's been so long since I've had any time alone for an extended period of time. Other than the weeks that schools were open and I was working, if I have been home I am with my children and my husband. At the cottage I was with my parents and my sister's family. And while it's been amazing to have thing open up a bit and get vaccinated so we could see family members, I do feel that my own struggle with mental health stems a lot from not having any space and time for me. 

Everything seems to be in service of my children and their wellness/needs. Supporting school needs. Supporting snack requests. Supporting tech issues that arise with older parents. Supporting the maintenance of a home when no one ever leaves. Laundry. Always laundry. 

As things are opening up and people feel comfortable gathering together more friends want to see each other, and I do want to see people, too. But... 

I also haven't been alone. Ever. For almost 2 years now. 

I think it really was highlighted for me as my mom and I were getting ready to go to the beach at the cottage and I put a book into my beach bag. My mom commented that she wanted to chat at the beach. Her actual words may have been, "Hey! We are going to chat at the beach. I've been alone with your father for this whole time and I want to talk with someone else."

And my internal monologue screamed "NO!!! I have been surrounded by people for the whole pandemic and I just want to read my book at the beach."

But I didn't bring the book with me. 

I've noticed this same thing with friends who have older children. They want to get together more to chat and have coffee. Perhaps because older children are more independent and haven't necessarily felt the same weight of always being with children who demand attention from you at all time. And sadly, while these invitations come from a place of love they feel like another obligation. Another thing to do for someone else. More time to be "up", to be talkative, to be in service to others. 

So while my daughters are at camp for these two weeks I am focused on being alone as much as possible. Even the drive home from dropping them off and then to pick them up feels like a luxurious gift. And I have promised myself that if I say no to an invitation I will not succumb to the pressure to justify my reason. 

Taking time for me is reason enough. 

So how does this all relate to my word choice? 

What does this have to do with the concept of systems?

I am spending this time alone reflecting on my home, my space and my routines to develop systems that support me and my family so when September comes I have a sense of control over some areas of my life.

My focus is developing/refining systems in these areas:

• meal planning
• exercising
• reflecting on the central spaces of our home and refining the organization so it works for us
• purging clutter that detracts from the workings of our home

How are you prioritizing yourself and your needs as we inch ever closer to September?

What systems in your life will help you feel supported and in control of your space and needs?

How will I create space for me as a means to prioritize my mental health and provide an example for my daughters?