A Time to Disconnect

We are on the eve of the winter solstice in the Northern Hemisphere. The time of the year when the Earth is physically closest to the sun but tilted the furthest away. That means on December 21, the sun will rise in St. Johnsbury at 7:20 AM and will set at 4:11 PM, giving us a paltry eight hours and fifty-one minutes of daylight. It really doesn't seem like enough, does it? 

Add to this the reality of education and life in 2020, and, candidly, it may even feel darker. However, I offer that there is plenty to celebrate. 

I begin with our students and their families. School has not looked anything like it usually does. Despite some adults' worries, our students have worn their masks with fidelity and with pride, only occasionally needing reminders. Their families have juggled work, school, and life in a hybrid model designed to slow the spread in a building that, when full, is home to almost 800 people daily. Thank you for making this year work in St. Johnsbury. 

Next, I move on to our teachers. They have persevered, as this virus has upended everything they were taught about education. They made connections, reached our students, and found new and creative ways to teach while being physically distant from their favorite little people. Our teachers are proving again to be consummate professionals, adding integrity and honor to the word educator. 

I continue with our paraprofessionals. They have worked to find new and inventive ways to support our teachers and our students. Perhaps their work has never been more critical to our success as a school. Their work's selfless nature ensures that our students, sometimes our most vulnerable, feel the human connection that we know allows them to grow and learn. 

I cannot say enough about the individuals in Food Service. They have made it possible for our students and anyone eighteen and under to eat. These dedicated individuals have served our stomachs and hearts with the same consistency we have come to know and expect from them. 

The lack of superlatives continues to elude me when I think about our Facilities Staff. This year, in particular, they have redefined stewardship for me, as they juggled the reality of the pandemic with the bond construction and the increased protocols for cleaning our campus. These dedicated men and women do a thankless job regularly, and they do it in a way that should make our entire community proud. 

We could not do this work without our Leadership Team - our Principals, our Directors of Early Education, Finance, Learning Design, and Student Support Services. Their dedication to our students, faculty, staff, and community is evident in the thoughtful way they have approached the various directives around education in the midst of this troubling virus. Our conversations are safe places for disagreement; they are full of respect and often punctuated with laughter and compassion. None of the decisions we have made would have been possible without them. 

Finally, we are all guided by the public service of our Board of School Directors. Under the leadership of Mark Avery, these five individuals ensure that the mission is a reality for all of our students, not just written on paper. Their encouragement and support, along with thoughtful and persistent questioning about the impact on students, staff, and families, gives life to the policies our district enacts. 

With all this support, I am so incredibly proud that we have only had a handful of positive cases in our building, and none - not one - was a case of school transmission. The guidance and protocols have helped us maintain as much in-person learning as possible in these first three months. And we look forward to welcoming back all of our PK - 6 students in 2021 if the numbers in our county and our town continue to trend lower. 

With so much to celebrate, despite the lack of natural daylight, might I suggest one thing that we all commit to during the Winter Holiday Break? Disconnect. From work, at least. 

Yes, I know we will need to use technology to be in our loved ones' lives, given the requirement for physical distancing. So I don't mean like that. I mean, it's time to put work away. 

For most of us in education and the families we serve, work has been a constant since March. Even the summer did not feel truly like summer since there was so much uncertainty about our return. Now, though, we know what the first two weeks of January will look like. And we also know what school will look like beginning on Tuesday, January 19. 

So with all that, the gift I hope you can all celebrate with your loved ones this break is this: work disconnection.

Doctor's orders (wink). 

Photo courtesy of carriecolbert.com

On Empathy

I've been thinking a lot about empathy lately - and I'm not 100% sure why. I know there is a substantial lack of it in our world currently, which is troubling because now we might need it more than ever. I can't quite put my finger on the reasons why this time in our world is pulling us further and further apart rather than bringing us together. 

Yes - I can clearly see the political divisions. Sadly, this has also eroded our confidence in the science of this virus that continues to make its way through our state. In addition, we are being asked to stay physically distant from each other so that this insidious disease stays at bay while we await a vaccine that hopefully will begin to turn the tide on rising case counts, slow the positivity rate, and stop people from dying. 

One of the things I see almost everyone struggling with, besides day-to-day living, is something I heard described as "decision fatigue." It impacts everyone, regardless of who you are or what you do. I offer the following anonymous examples to consider: 

Think about the single parent, with a child in a hybrid model, hoping to find an affordable daycare option still, for the days her children are learning from home. If she sends her children to a neighbor who has offered, how much of a risk are they taking when they both violate the ban against multi-household gatherings? 

Think about the aging senior citizen, lonely from the isolation of the past nine months, longing to see her family in person, to give and to receive a hug. If she fails to quarantine for the full fourteen days to make the holiday celebration work, who is most at risk when they finally see each other? 

Think about the teacher, struggling under the weight of illogical public expectations during this pandemic. She hears that over the weekend, one of her students has traveled out of state to see extended family, that another has had a sleepover with friends, and still another has had a playdate with someone outside of their pod. What does she do with this information? 

Think about the principal, watching and feeling the morale fall in her building. Despite taking everything that is not required off of the teachers' plates, there is still a palpable, tense feeling in the hallways. How can she meet the needs of the people in the building going forward? 

Think about the superintendent, trying to delicately balance the need to protect public health for students, teachers, and community members. While she is confident there are no school transmission cases yet, she worries about the upcoming Winter Holiday break and how to address what a return to school in January should look like. How can she keep everyone safe and healthy? 

Think about the governor, seeing the state she loves struggle to find a way through this dire time. For the first time in her leadership, public health takes priority over anything else. Yet, segments of the population choose not to follow the directives designed to slow the spread, but that also impact the economic well-being of the citizenry. How can she balance human fragility with economic reality? 

Each of these individuals is trying to be brave while at the same time meeting the needs of the people they are responsible for and to. Each of these individuals wants to make the best decision that balances freedom with public health. Each of these individuals struggles with the guilt and worries about the shame resulting from whatever decision is made. 

We are not immune to this. We all have families. We all care deeply. We all want to do what is right for our family and the people we are responsible for. But because of the nature of this virus, our decisions impact others. 

In the same way that this virus does not discriminate which human being it invades, nor does the weight of these decisions discriminate what heart it troubles. We are all struggling with this. We are all wondering how best to move forward. We really are in this together. 

If we can reflect on this for just a moment, perhaps we can give each other what I believe would be the greatest gift this 2020 holiday season. 

We could give each other our empathy.

A Light in the Darkness

One of the absolute joys of working in education is having the opportunity to be in awe of children. Consider this as an example: while we were preparing for the return to school this past spring and summer, many people, with microphones and newspaper ink at their disposal, wondered aloud about whether or not children would be able to manage wearing masks. With very, very few exceptions, our students are consistently wearing their masks. 

For some children, this is a break from the norm. They experienced a typical school year last year until the middle of March, and when they returned, in the case of St. Johnsbury, they have half their classmates and are wearing masks all the time. However, for some of our youngest members of our learning community, this is their first education experience. For all they know, masks are a part of how we are in school. 

This is no small feat. Wearing a mask all day is challenging, even for adults. Occasionally when I'm visiting a classroom, I see a kiddo whose mask has slipped on their face a little bit. A simple gesture, pulling on my own mask in the right direction, is enough to help return the mask to the safe location, over their nose and mouth. Our children deserve a lot of credit. 

But this past Friday, something happened in our building that is truly inspiring. Our Upper School Principal, Jeremy Ross, was called to a 4th-grade classroom, with the message that a student had a note for him. Here's what the note said: 

Dear Mr. Ross, 

Since I enjoy learning at school so much, I wanted to give back. Each month I get an allowance of ten cents for each chore I do each day. Some goes to my college account. Some stays with me. And some goes to charity. 

So this fall I choose to donate 100 dollars to our school to help with supplies for students and teachers during the hard time of COVID. 

"I choose to donate." 

No one is forcing this young man to give this money to us. No one is making this young man share some of his allowance with us. No one is saying this is where your money has to go. 

"I choose to donate... since I enjoy learning at school so much." 

It is tough to measure how well schools meet our students' needs in years when we are not experiencing a global health pandemic. Too often "experts" rely on testing that happens only once a year, which really only measures how well students take tests, not the knowledge they have in their heads. Then those "experts" report out the results in sound bytes, easily repeatable. In Vermont, it is then accompanied by a call to reduce education spending, an easy target in our state. 

What our faculty and staff are doing this year is nothing short of heroic. It is nothing short of phenomenal. It is nothing short of life-changing. In case you were wondering, that happens each year, but this year in particular, within the context of our public health crisis, it is truly exemplary. 

Not sure if hybrid learning is working in our building? We have a ten-year-old boy, earning ten cents a day for allowance. If he's donating $100, then it's taken quite some time to amass enough to go to his college account, for his own piggy bank, and then to donate to us. 

We are approaching the time in our calendar when the Earth is physically closest to the sun but tilted away, reducing the hours of daylight we have in the northern hemisphere. Coupled with the state of the COVID-19 virus, it would be easy to believe we are surrounded by near darkness. And yet, I offer that our school continues to be a place where young people, inspired by their teachers, like Callum, are guiding us through this time. 

They are a light in the darkness. 

Co-Principal Jeremy Ross, with our selfless 4th Grader Callum