"Find Your Marigold"

 "Surround yourself with good people." ~Jennifer Gonzalez

One of my most favorite posts by edu-blogger Jennifer Gonzalez is "Find Your Marigold: The One Essential Rule for New Teachers." In it, she discusses how challenging it can be as a new teacher and illuminates many of the various "roles" individuals take on in a school setting. She warns the new teacher of the walnut trees--the toxic colleagues who make the teaching experience miserable and want nothing more than to suck you in with them. After all, misery loves company, right? She further breaks down the walnut trees into a variety of species. I couldn't help but think about individuals I've worked with over the years that align so perfectly with her descriptions; and, sadly, I could think of at least one person for each one. There sure are quite a few walnut trees.

But I'm still here, and I remain positive and hopeful for the most part. Twenty-four years into my career. And the walnut trees haven't gotten to me yet.

That's because of the marigolds. Gonzalez notes that marigolds are the protectors and the encouragers. Just as we plant marigolds in our vegetable gardens to help our crops grow and bloom, the marigolds in the school are there to support, offer advice, give a hug, and help us weather the storm. I was extremely fortunate to have had many marigolds in my early career. (I should mention that while this is my 24th year in education, it's also the 24th year in the same middle school I started at right after I graduated from college.) 

This was incredibly apparent to me last spring when our staff and our school's retirees gathered with the family of a retired staff member who passed away due to COVID-19. We hosted an outdoor memorial and dedicated a bench to the school, which was installed just outside the office where this staff member worked for decades. I had helped organize the entire event and was aware all of the details. But when I stood there and looked around at this sea of incredible human beings who had helped me get to that very moment, I was overwhelmed with emotion. I realized that if not for all of these strong, dedicated, compassionate, supportive teachers I was so fortunate to work with over the years, I wouldn't be where I am today. It was especially meaningful seeing them having lived through last school year--one chock full of pivoting from remote to hybrid to in-person teaching. On the day of that memorial, I was more exhausted mentally, physically, and emotionally than I had even been before, but somehow in that very moment, being surrounded by my marigolds from my early years made it all better. I would liken it to feeling a bit like when you're sick and your mom is there to help you through it and make it all better.

Now that I'm well into my education career, I still have my own marigolds in the school, but I still reach out to the marigolds who helped me build such a solid foundation in my early days. Sadly, some are no longer with us, but their teachings and advice echo in my head when I am faced with a tough situation. After all, a marigold's effect can last a lifetime. 

As I think about Jennifer Gonzalez's incredible blog post, there are two ideas that I would add to the conversation. First, while she notes that it's new teachers that need marigolds, it's really ALL teachers that need marigolds. I'm nearly forty-five years old with quite a few years of teaching under my belt, and I still have moments where I need someone to turn to for support and encouragement. Granted, these moments are few and far between now since so many of the marigold lessons from the past still guide me and I'm fortunate to have experience on my side. Regardless, everyone still needs someone to lean on from time to time. 

The other idea is that at some point, if we've been around long enough and still believe in the magic of the work we do, we finally become a marigold. It's hard to pinpoint precisely when this moment happens. It's not really a specific moment but rather this gradual transformation that happens over a lengthy period of time. Suddenly, I find myself listening to colleagues and helping them navigate stressful situations such as classroom behaviors, difficult parents, or a conflict with a colleague. What's interesting to me is how finding a marigold or being a marigold all gets down to the same things--empathy, understanding, and compassion. The educational landscape continues to evolve--especially with the pandemic--so it's vital that we acknowledge the hardships educators face today while work together to move forward.

"Find your marigold"...or BE a marigold.

First Fridays Open Mic

 "Find the good. It's all around you. Find it, showcase it, and you'll start believing in it." 

                                                                                                                            ~Jesse Owens

Today was the first Friday of October, which means in the Shepard Learning Commons, it's First Fridays Open Mic! This showcase event is a wonderful collaboration between our school library and the fine arts department and allows for students to share their talents with our school community each month. In the past, students who wanted to share their interests and talents had to hold out for our school-wide talent show in the spring.  The talent show, while amazing, isn't for the faint of heart; it requires students to perform in front of the entire school, which could feel like a sure death for some middle school students. First Fridays is a on much smaller scale and therefore attracts many more students as well as a wider range of talents; over the years, we have had students sing, dance, recite self-composed poetry, share a STEM project, and even teach us about insects! Just when we think we can't be surprised by an act, something comes along that's unique. Today that was an ASMR act as well as an Irish dancing performance. 

What I love about this event each time we host it is how it showcases the good in our school community--students who are their authentic selves despite the pressures middle school students feel to fit in; students who are willing to share these unique and wonderful gifts with others; a kind, positive, and celebratory performance environment created by all who attend; and staff members who are willing to go above and beyond their call of duty by taking time out of their day to attend First Fridays and support and connect with their students.

Due to the pandemic last year, we had to flip the switch and turn First Fridays into a virtual affair. Each month we created a Padlet where students posted videos and images showcasing their talents. Some even got their pets and family members involved, which we absolutely loved. When we returned to in-person schooling this fall, we decided to go back to our in-person events but allow for the virtual platform to remain as well. By offering both in-person and virtual options this year, we can meet students at their own comfort levels and continue to attract a wide range of talents. 

While our first event this year was on the smaller side compared to events in the Before Times, it was a perfect start to First Fridays this year. There was so much buzz among students and in the hallways today that I wouldn't be surprised if the enthusiasm for this event continues to grow and grow and attract even more participation in the upcoming months. I'm excited to see where this takes us and even more excited to see how this helps students feel more connected to their school community! 

Beginning Anew: A Reflection

It's been nearly six years since my last blog post. I'm back at it thanks to a graduate course I'm taking as part of my Ph.D. coursework at Northern Illinois University this fall term. Before composing this blog post, I couldn't help but scroll through my past posts while reflecting upon the nearly six-year gap between then and now is honestly a bit surreal. After all, my blog journey began when I had just taken on my role as a certified library information specialist at Shepard Middle School, a school I have worked at since August 1998 with most of those years spent in the classroom teaching 8th grade ELA and 7th grade social studies. Here I am in 2021, six weeks into my seventh year as the school's no-"shh" librarian. In the many years since my last blog post, it's no surprise that a great deal has happened. Some highlights include the following:

I've been part of a nearly million dollar school library transformation that gave students a voice in the kind of school library they'd like for our school and now am grateful to work in a gorgeous, innovative learning space each and every day. 

I've even created a digital twin of this space with the help of Matterport! You can explore this space virtually here. 

I was fortunate to be sent to Sharjah, United Arab Emirates, to represent American school librarians along with the incredibly talented Laura D'Elia at the Sharjah International Library Conference in November 2019; there I met librarians from all over the world who continue to inspire me today.

And, of course, I've survived months as a "dining table librarian," navigating the pandemic as best I could while supporting students and staff, so the learning could continue despite everyone learning and working remotely.

There's obviously much more that's happened in this time, but these are the three big highlights that stand out most to me over these nearly six years. It's the good, the bad, and the ugly--but all are part of my library story and all have transported me to right here, right now. I honestly wouldn't change any of it as I have learned a great deal all along the way; I now carry these lessons with me and continue to strive to evolve as a school librarian who wants to make a difference in her corner of the world and break the mold of the stereotypical school library.

Change & Progress

Change is all around us.  It's what challenges us.  It's what makes us grow.  The changes facing education really smacked me in the face about a year or two ago when a previous colleague of mine connected with me about getting back into teaching.  Like several friends/previous colleagues of mine, she taught for several years, started a family and decided to stay home, and then planned to jump back into teaching when the youngest entered first grade.  By the time she decided to go back to work, she had been home for over a decade, which happened to be longer than the time she had been in the classroom pre-family.  In sitting down with her to discuss key initiatives in education, the buzz words to use in an interview, the technology that had become second nature to me, and local and state assessments, I realized just how much had happened in the last ten years.  Like many educators, I had been diligently working in order to learn and grow and do, so I didn't often pause to think about how far education had come and how far I had come as an educator.  Fortunately, this conversation with this colleague of mine gave me this opportunity. What dawned on me during the conversation that day is change can be difficult, and each of us takes a different approach to it.

This was an important reflection for me as I think about my role as a library information specialist.  As much as my job description states that it's about the research and the collection development, a great deal of my job has become the connections I make with my colleagues and coaching or supporting them in the classroom. Each one of them is so unique in regards to their skill sets, interests, and personalities.  So when the next big thing comes along--Breakout EDU, NoodleTools, PBL (project-based learning), 3D printing, etc.--I need to really think about the best way to support change.  I happen to be one of those bold people who is willing to "go big or go home" and dive in. But for others, it needs to be about taking those smaller steps and getting more support from the iCoaches and myself in the beginning.  It's vital that anyone in a more supportive role for educators carefully examine where an individual is in regards to their skills, knowledge, and comfort level, and provide the necessary scaffolding for success.  If we don't and the whole thing falls apart, an individual is much less likely to try that again--and can you blame them?

As Tony Robbins notes, "Change is inevitable.  Progress is optional."  Progress looks different for each of us--different starting points, comfort levels, targets.  But to move education forward, we have to be willing to embrace change and move outside of our comfort zone to ultimately benefit the most important part of the equation--our students.

Take a Break

On Sunday, January 3, I saw the all-too-familiar posts on Facebook--sobering realizations from my Facebook friends that winter break was coming to a close, and the time had come to head back to work and school. Along with these posts, people included humorous videos and memes that captured the hyperbolized emotions of this impending event.  One favorite among my own family was this cute little girl who couldn't even open her eyes as she forced down her cereal before heading off to school:

My boys, 4th and 5th graders, both giggled and said this was the perfect example of how they would be feeling on Monday morning.  (Fortunately, it wasn't quite this bad. They might have actually opened their eyes as they consumed their clementines and protein bars.)

As for me, the one that spoke most to me was this video, which was posted as the response to the all-too familiar question for educators: "What work did you do over break?"

Break. According to Merriam-Webster, a break is defined as "a respite from work, school or duty." The problem is that for those in education, a break becomes a chance to catch up or get ahead--grading a hefty stack of papers or projects, reading those professional books or journal articles that sound amazing but you haven't gotten to yet,  or even meeting with colleagues to do some lesson planning at a coffee shop.  With rapidly evolving technology and increasing demands in the world of education, educators' breaks just become our time to complete work without too much more work piling up.  It's an opportunity to finally get our heads above water to take a breath of air.  As you can see, though, using a break to work really isn't a break at all.  And I've been as guilty as the rest of my colleagues when it comes to breaks.

As any educator knows, teaching is an emotional job.  We work with children, so we can't help but form bonds with them that we carry with us beyond the school day--playing and replaying that interaction with a struggling student that didn't go well, thinking about how to help a student that just faced a family tragedy, or coming up with ways to get through to a student who seems unreachable at times.  All of this thinking and strategizing often occurs for me on the drive home, as I'm preparing dinner, or on the treadmill--on my time.  As a result, when I'm working, I'm working almost around the clock.  (I have even solved a few conundrums in my dreams.)  

So when winter break came around this school year, I finally decided to allow myself a break. No checking my e-mails obsessively.  No lesson planning.  No professional reading--just reading for fun! After 18 years in education, I finally took two weeks to enjoy my family, see friends, celebrate the holidays, and decompress.

This year's true break from my job left me well-rested, refreshed, and excited to go back to work today. I realized that my old way of approaching break--working in order to get ahead--didn't really help me get ahead at all.  Sure, it might give me a few weeks of plans or a smaller pile of papers to grade on my desk, but I missed out on time with others and time for myself.  It's no surprise, then, that in the past I came back to work still feeling a bit drained or overwhelmed.  Fortunately, I can report things are quite different this year; this year I return to school supercharged, raring to go, with a clear head, a sparkle in my eye, and without a lick of guilt when someone asks me "What work did you do over break?"  A simple two-week break provided me the energy, clarity, and enthusiasm I need to conquer the challenges that await me.  Bring it!

Shine On!

Last Friday I was fortunate to be invited to ECET2 or Elevating and Celebrating Effective Teachers and Teaching at Kendall College in Chicago.  Created by the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, Friday was dedicated to connecting with teacher leaders in the Chicagoland area, celebrating the great work we all do as educators, learning from amazing keynote speakers and breakout sessions, and creating an action plan for the future.

I was inspired to start "gush writing" or writing for a set period time (like five minutes) without deleting, editing, or stopping--something hard for the language arts teacher in me who cringes at the sight of those little red squiggly lines under my text but something I highly recommend after having experienced it through my breakout session!  It's amazing how many great ideas come out of five minutes of straight thinking and writing--especially since my mind is typically running a mile a minute on a consistent basis.

I was given the opportunity to have a bit of fun and make a Bitmoji to share with the world.  Word.

I was asked why I teach--something I didn't really have to think about it because it's engrained in who I am.  I enjoyed adding my answer to the community board and seeing others' responses.  It was clear that I was surrounded by positive energy, people filled with passion, and educators who hoped to inspire our students for the future!  The enthusiasm in the room was contagious! 

And who doesn't love having a little fun in the photo booth?

But through this experience--connecting with others to learn and share, indulging in the amazing food prepared for us, and just celebrating how awesome it is to be an educator today--the one everlasting message from the day came out in that final hour of our day together.

We were asked to work with colleagues to figure out how we could fix education today.  After all, the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation believes that in education, you should ask the experts--the teachers--for their valuable input.  After brainstorming and valuable discussion, it was pretty clear: mindset.  In this age of vilification of teachers, pressure to get students to perform well on tests, and teacher burnout, it's easy to get caught up in the negativity around us.  And that's exactly why we must shine on.  There are always going to be those people that are the naysayers, the ones who don't want to think outside the box or take risks, the ones who will stifle our excellence.  Sadly, we all know these people.  If we want to move forward in education, and in life, we can't let the negativity get us down.  We must keep an open mind, stay true to our calling, and let our light shine.

  

Let Go

Since I was a mere toddler, I have always been the rule follower, the Type A personality, the perfectionist.  I always knew how to "play school" well and found success fairly easily as long as I put in hard work and followed the expectations and rules set forth by my teachers and professors.  Even in my early years as a teacher, I wanted to play it safe.  Listen more than speak.  Don't make waves.  Don't ruffle feathers.  The irony is that as I get older, I've realized that the real success comes when you're willing to break the mold, color outside the lines, think outside the box, and LET GO--something that goes against everything I know and have done for decades.

Today I spent my day off of school for Columbus Day down at Belmont Harbor in Chicago at Trapeze School New York.  It's an outdoor facility that allows you to try out trapeze while soaking up sunshine and the cool Chicago air.  After practicing several positions in the air for over an hour and a half, we had the opportunity for a catch.  It's at this point one of the instructors gets up on the other bar and, if the timing and form is right, we make contact and complete the catch.  Being the Type A person I am, I was hung up on getting my knees up, timing my arms correctly, and getting my hands out in time.  Quite simply, I was overthinking it, and my instructors weren't afraid to tell me so.  On my final try, the instructor on the ground reminded me how to hold my hands and, just before I started, suggested, "Close your eyes and just let go.  Let Jason [my instructor on the bar] do the work."  Let go.  Those words are the kiss of death for a Type A, control freak such as myself.   However, the part of me craving success in this catch had grown even stronger than my need for control, so I went out there on my last try and I let go.  Letting go became the most exhilarating feeling--especially since I made the catch.

On the drive home and while floating on my post-catch, Cloud 9 bliss, I couldn't help but think about our recent Global Cardboard Challenge in the Learning Commons. Here was another experience that was all about letting go and finding success--even when you don't quite expect it.

For three days, the kids and lots and lots and lots of cardboard took over the space I work in each day.  It was creative.  It was fun.  It was messy.  As much as a younger version of me would have loved to control this experience, the wiser, more creative and confident version of me realized that letting go was the only way this challenge was going to find success.  Students ruled the space, creating whatever they wanted using all of the tools and materials available to them.  We had roller coasters and robots and Starbucks and forts and even a bed with a chandelier.  But it didn't stop there.  Even teachers were plopped down on the floor, scissors and tape in hand, creating all sorts of cool creations and getting in on the action.

As I walked around to survey all of these marvelous cardboard sculptures,  I knew we found success when students were begging for more time or begging to miss their next class.  Even the eighth graders, who I thought might struggle with buying into this experience, were smiling and giggling and having the time of the lives.  My heart sang when students from all different grade levels told me that this was the best experience they had ever had in the library and that this was their favorite place in the school.

The Global Cardboard Challenge was a magical three days in the Learning Commons, and our space was transformed into this ultra-cool and imaginative cardboard world.  (I honestly feel a small sense of sadness tomorrow since I know it's been cleaned up over the weekend.)  Could this world have existed if we came in teacher-centered, controlling, and focused on rules?  Probably not.

So in trapeze, in teaching, and in life, it's important to just let go.

Eighth graders assemble a roller coaster.

Addison the bulldog with Mrs. Brown & Mrs. Tye.

Batter up in this cardboard baseball stadium!

This robot sings and dances for all to see.

The aftermath--and this is just one small pile of many!