As I turn, I've begun dialoguing with colleagues over coffee and lunch and a bit through social media. I've started to peruse educational journals and begun creating calendars as I decide which new risks I'll take because I think they will impact next year's kids. Additionally I'm considering how I will incorporate all the new must do's dreamed up my district's leadership. It takes a lot of good conversation and thought to blend all of this into an authentic learning system that helps students grow academically as well as civically. This, of course, is my charge as a Social Studies teacher of reading and writing and thinking. It's complex.
As the years press on I become more and more aware of the impact good community has on good teaching as we struggle to navigate complexity. One of my favorite authors, Quaker- spiritualist, Parker Palmer says about community, "that it is not a goal to be achieved, but a gift to be received... (but) learning how to relax and receive a gift requires hard work" He further identifies community as "an outward and visible sign of an inward and invisible grace; the flowing of personal identity and integrity into the world of relationships." That's a lot to think about too, but it resonates with me as this June turns to this July and I start preparing for the year ahead.
You see, as education becomes more and more complex, I admit that the older I get the harder it is for me to always receive the gift of community. The more we are asked to do that often conflicts with my personal strongholds, the easier it is for me to slip into what my colleagues call "splendid isolation". (I don't always agree with the districts leaders and dreamers.)Yet,as much as I feel good about work I alone create for my students to engage in, I know in my heart collaboration and community have a distinct ability to make that work even better. That being said, I resist. As much as I value the conversation and being around like- minded teachers, I often still refuse to embrace change with anything but skepticism. Change is hard work.
I find that so much change has begun to feel like such a challenge to my personal identity and integrity. So instead of embracing it I build walls to isolate myself from it. I build walls to insulate myself from anything that is awkward. And I 've gotten comfortable building walls- except that for the first time since my return to the classroom, changes I've successfully resistance is no longer an option. It's time for me accept that I'm going to have to work differently this year.
Getting to acceptance and feeling better about how to navigate change is a process for me. Getting this point involves a lot of talk with trusted colleagues and reading. I love to read and think and poetry regularly speaks to me as I struggle. For whatever reason, I found myself re-reading some old favorites this summer.
I found my way back to Robert Frost, Mending Wall. In this poem, Frost paints a picture of the process he describes as the annual spring work of rebuilding stone walls that separate neighbors in New England. In the poem he suggests "good fences make good neighbors".
Yet there are some lines in the poem that has me pausing and reflecting differently this July. Maybe I missed it before, or perhaps it has just begun to take on a different significance. Frost says-
"Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder, If I could put a notion in his head,
Why do they make good neighbors?...
What was I walling in or walling out?...
What am I walling in? walling out? and more importantly... how do I find the courage to stop putting stones on walls just because it makes it easier to resist? If I'm going to receive the gifts given in community and collaboration which I say I value, I'm going to have to more actively remove walls than languish behind them. Ughhh. I like my work and my splendid isolation, so this won't be easy. How do I make it work for me, then? How do I get my self to the gift?
I keep thinking about how or why Frost came to choose the word mischief to describe Spring and newness and wondering. I like mischief. Mischief makes risk taking fun. It brings a wry smile to my face and makes me think about laughing. I definitely like laughing. My heart knows it can definitely embrace mischief- so perhaps its the key to breaking away from the comfort of splendid isolation and back into community.
Dictionary.com defines mischief as "conduct or activity that playfully causes petty annoyance." I think I'm at my best when my work is playful, so that's good. I don't however want to be annoying, but I do like the idea of being a bit edgy. I think edgy is engaging. So by mischief, I'm considering ways to be playfully edgy as I find ways to incorporate all the demands required of modern teachers.
I think it might be fun to unlock doors with that kind of mischief. So perhaps that's the gift? If conversation and collaboration keeps me focused on being playfully edgy, I'm in.
I'm starting to see change in the light of what this kind of mischief brings, for me and my students. Setting goals around it as I begin my July preparations has changed my outlook significantly.
And I'm proud to announce, lunch collaborations and coffee conversations have already yielded fruit. My co- teacher and I have discussed attacking new frameworks and expectations using a single central text to get at required content. My PLC partner and I have discussed ways to keep using compelling questions and themes at the heart of our work. Some of this would be new for us, yet at the same time allow us time to stronghold much of what we have created over four years as part of our learning system. It also leaves time for the development of new assessments and incorporation of new programming purchased by the district. It's balance.
Instead of feeling anxious, this "mischief" has me feeling energetic and enthusiastic. That's a gift. Now we just have to find the right playfully edgy text and design some great engagements to surround it with. I'm excited about this.
I'm grateful for the gift of good conversation and good colleagues who share my vision for strongholding what I value and believe in, while at the same time challenge me and keep me from settling for "splendid isolation". As July begins I'm feeling more committed than ever to working hard at being a bigger part of community. I'm giving myself that gift this year. (And I'm feeling pretty optimistic in looking at community as a gift to receive my students will benefit too.)
I hope your July planning is helping you find focus too.
