"School Daze" - For My Teacher Friends

 ‘A good teacher is one who makes himself progressively unnecessary.’ 

–Thomas Carruthers

     For teachers, the month of September is a lot like facing the holidays for some.  Actually, there are two types of teachers...Those who look forward to the school year and those who do not. Anxiety breeds all kinds of behavior that we may not have seen or experienced in those we know.  Like the holidays, there are those who look forward to them and those who dread them.  All of the reasoning is sound and this is the truth.

     What all teachers have learned within the past year and a half is that nothing is definite and alhtough planning is an altruistic endeavor it has proven to be not unrealistic during a pandemic.  Teachers are the last to know as most of the public has been.  There is just no planning during a pandemic.  The question is, "Should there be?"  

     There has not been one teacher that I have spoken to who has not expressed their anxiety and their worry about their students and everyone else in their immediate circle.  Where has the lack of regard for human well-being gone? It boggles my brain to think that so many Americans are ignoring what would logically appear to be reasonable and sensible. We have already sacrificed so much, and lost so much. This includes our time.  Time with our loved ones; time with our colleagues; time with our friends...You can not get time back.  Time is not refundable.  When you are fearful, time is irrelevant.  Fear makes us unaware and it takes aware what is rational.

     No doubt, many of our kids will return to school operating at a deficit and their anxiety and their excitement will be prevalent.  We will take it slow and we will take it one day at a time.  It will be more important to be consistent if not patient.  We need to be kind and patient with each other too.  We will be covering for each other.  We will be yet again, stepping up and doing what we are required to do.  We need to forgive the inconvenience and embrace our good fortune that we are healthy and we are vital and we are who we are.

     If I have learned anything over this past year and a half is that love matters.  If I have learned anything at all

it is that the pandemic brought out the true colors of those around me and society in general.  September is coming.  Our plans, such as they can be, are in place and the commaderie of those who understand, is sealed.  Wear the mask.  Love....

     

"Say It Isn't So"

 

    You can not have gone through nearly a year and a half of a pandemic without taking some time to assess everything in your life.  I know now that I was driven totally by fear.  Perhaps we all were and I know I certainly was. Every decision, every move was cultivated by the fear getting sick or watching a loved one become sick. The fear sadly, is still with me.  People have said that I am a fairly resilient person but I wonder if that still holds true given the new normal I see around me.

     When the only things you have done is go to the supermarket and the gas station, life becomes infinitely smaller and less complicated.  Routines are changed and nothing is really the same.  What remains the same are the feelings and the emotions we have for those we love.  That does not change.  No one wants to see someone they love get sick.  There have been discussions after discussions regarding vaccines and I can tell you that just like public education, our health is NOT political.  Getting a vaccine with the rarest of exceptions is our civic responsiblity.  Wearing a mask is a civic responsibility.  We do these things out of love for our families, our friends, our colleagues and those who we have not yet met.  

    I hate masks.  I will be wearing them in the fall when school starts to be sure but I hate them.  The full human being behind the mask is never truly exposed.  It is as though, the mask is another excuse to hide our truth.  But here's the thing...We do not want to be responsible for someone getting sick because we were too selfish and too inconsiderate to do what is morally and ethically appropriate.  Again, politics has NOTHING to do with our health.  Our health, our well-being, our joy for living rests on doing the right thing now.  NOW... meaning NOW...until the virus understands that we are not going to give in to stupidity.  We must not give in to  political rhetoric.  If one passes away from COVID, no one is paying to attention to politics but they will be asking themselves, "Why or how? What could have been done differently? Why was I so stubborn?"  

     My musings are based on 17 years of teaching and working with a public that has been incredibly generous, gracious and appreciative of everything that I have tried to do for their children.  I am beyond fearful for my students, their famiies, my colleagues, their families, and of course, my family.  Returning to school in September is going to be beyond fearful...It is vitally important to express that now.  It is the truth.  We can argue all the politics, discuss all of the myths, but the real truth is that no one wants to die needlessly.  No one wants to become ill when the solution is fairly simple.  I do not understand why that is such a hard pill for some to swallow.

     

"The Visit"

As I pulled into the parking lot of my mother's nursing home , I suddenly became overwhelmed.  Today...today's visit, would be different.  I have written about my parents in previous blogs.  None of those blogs did either of them justice. How can you possibly encompass all of the emotions,  and the realizations that can surface with one or two blogs?

Mom's nursing home has finally freed up its visitation. Visits are now, no appointment necessary.   The pandemic has dictated and continues to dictate every part of our lives ( "Making an appointment to see your mother???  Really??" ) but for now, today, I was back to "normal" and able to see her.  Protocols in place I waited nearly an hour before they would bring "Mickey" out to see me.  "MOM!!!!!!!" I said, as the extremely tired looking attendant rolled her towards me.  It is still difficult for me to accept that the woman who danced on Jones Beach, made apple strudel, apple pies, homemade bread, hiked the Appalachian Trail, made fabulous dinners each and every night, is now confined to a wheel chair.  "You are no longer  in denial, Claude," I said to myself. 

Mom has a hearing aid which works to a certain degreee but I bring a dry erase board because sometimes she can not always make out what is being said. Every accommodation possible has to be made when it involves love.  Mom was so excited to see me. "Claudia!!!"  Why do mothers always know which strings to tug at your heart?  How do they do that? I have asked that question over the years, time and time again and the answers always vary.

The woman in the wheel chair wanted her daughters to be college educated. My touring with an Actors' Equity theater troup at 14 was and I quote, "Over my dead body." That was the first time we butted heads.  The second, when I failed my driver's test.  I needed more practice.  She wanted to hold on a little longer.  Maybe it was because I spent my first days after being born in an incubator...Maybe it was because I was born five weeks early, and placed in an incubator at five pounds that Mom had this inherent, continual need to protect me or at times "over protect" me.  

It has never been easy for me to make decisions.  I transferred to three different colleges before receiving my Bachelor's degree in journalism. Two years later, after realizing that local reporters only made five dollars and hour at that time, I decided to substitute teach and well, I was hooked and went back to school for a teaching certification.  My mother could not have been happier.  She was even prouder when I received my master's degree with honors.  When your parents are proud of you, those feelings last.  They never leave you.  I told her the single most important thing..."I have no regrets Ma...Not about becoming a teacher, not about anything I've done."

When you are witness to the aging of your mother and father, you are also facing your own mortality.  As they age, you look at your life differently and ask yourself, "How do I want to age?  How do I age gracefully, peacefully?  How do I do all of the things I want to do before I can not and how does one prepare without it being obvious?"  My mother never answered those questions so we did, for her safety and her health.  

It was time to leave and I looked up at the attendant who would bring Ma back to her area and nodded trying not to outwardly cry. "Bye Ma," I said.  "Stay out of trouble..."  We leaned in to each other and kissed and hugged.  "I love ya Claude," she smiled.  

It was a long ride home. This had been the visit I had dreamed of for months. Now matter how much in denial I have been, I see now that again, I am my "Mother's daughter."  However, my terms will be and are, much different than hers.  What I am grateful and thankful for is that she is now unequivocably proud of her daughters.  "Life is complicated," Ma would be the first to tell anyone.  It can even be cruel but the single most important thing to remember is that "WE ARE LOVED."