The Strangest of Days

It was March 13, 2020, 3:00 P.M. 

It appeared to be just like any other dreary March afternoon.  I wished my last hour class a good weekend and gathered my things for home and what I hoped would be a quiet weekend. While I could not have predicted how rapidly and drastically things would change I had been struggling with a growing sense of unease. It was only a few days prior that the governor of Wisconsin, a neighboring state, had dismissed schools in an effort to control the spread of the Coronavirus.  It didn’t take a genius to see what was in store for Minnesota. Still, I had no idea that this would be quite possibly the last time I would see my students. I never got to say goodbye.

That Sunday Governor Waltz announced that students would not be returning to school after Tuesday.  The school district I work for took a very serious approach in keeping their students and employees safe in not opting to hold business as usual.  Students were allowed come gather things from their lockers and desks. Staff was not required to report on Monday, but there was to be an all-district staff meeting on Tuesday morning in the auditorium where we could all sit far away from one another.  

I opted to go in on Monday to gather things I thought I might need over the next weeks.  I tried to grapple with how I was going to teach art ala Distance Learning style with students who may not have any art supplies at home. Walking into school that morning was surreal.  The building was dark, eerily hushed. My co-workers, stuck to their rooms for the most part, gathering and dropping completed projects, folders, and student textbooks in the commons for students to pick up.  We warily passed each other in the halls, sharing small, unsure greetings. The students who came were being told to clean out their lockers as if it were summer break. In hearing this, my heart broke as I cleared off my desk and completed grading whatever had been handed in.  There were so many unfinished projects that would never be completed. The unease I felt earlier grew.

Over the next two weeks, I tried to come up with a feasible, flexible plan for Distance Learning.  I’m not going to sweeten things. I absolutely hate it. I am doing everything I can for my students.  It’s taken everything that I love about teaching; the personal connections with students, witnessing the a-ha moments, the flexibility to change a lesson that’s not working and has replaced what I love with endless hours of email correspondence, phone calls, video conferencing, grading and attendance.  My body aches from sitting too much. My eyes are bugging out from being on the computer hours on end. When I’m not working on my work, which can often last until 10 at night, I’m guiding my daughter through her own Distance Learning. I am grateful to be employed but it is taking its toll on me.

Meanwhile, the world began the process of cancelling everything.  Baseball’s Opening Day; postponed. The National Art Educators Association convention I was looking forward to; cancelled.  The Laura Marling concert I had bought tickets for; postponed, then cancelled. My daughter’s 11th birthday party postponed for the foreseeable future.  (I feel bad, last year after my Dad passed away I couldn’t get it together to get one organized for her. Now this year. Props to the kid though, she’s handled it with grace and maturity).  

The news is grim.  I don’t need to tell anyone that.  Listening to the multiple daily news briefings leaves me angry, scared and sad.  I feel myself clenching my jaw. My head hurts. There is a heaviness on my shoulders I’ve not felt before and I’ve had some pretty dark thoughts I dare not give voice to.  (Nothing involving self-harm. I’m OK). Optimistically, I believe mankind will make it through this, but I worry about myself as a person who is considered high-risk. I don’t want to get sick.  I don’t want to die and I want to keep my family safe. I’m pretty sure the same thoughts run through other’s minds. I am not complacent when it comes to social distancing and protecting myself and my family.  The stress does get to me.

I try to do things that I enjoy and offer some sort of escapism.  I go for walks, listening to music. I attempt my art. I have looked back through my journals again, looked through old photographs.  Still, I’ve struggled with the stress and the fear.

A couple of weeks before some of my old Spine crew decided to meet up for the CD release party for the new Caroline’s Spine album.  It was the best weekend I’ve had in such a long time and something I really needed. I got to see a couple of friends I hadn’t seen in several years.  It was so good catching up. Laughing over old memories and creating new ones. I came away from that weekend feeling the most refreshed I had felt in ages.  The show was good too. We always said that the shows were just an added bonus. The best part though was Jim ending the show with Rainbow Connection. A few tears were shed.  When I try to explain to people what this song means to me I always find my explanation lacking, much like when I try to explain what those years were like and what magic they were. I guess you had to be there.

A few weeks later amidst all that was happening in the world, a friend shared the audio from one of the songs from the show.  I asked if he had Rainbow Connection from that night. He did and shared it. The recording included Jim’s introduction. The message was meaningful and moving that night weeks ago, but it took on a whole different meaning after the stress and fear from the past weeks.

“So you’re gonna wake up…we’re all going to wake up tomorrow, right?  It’s going to be Sunday. And all of our lives are a lot different than they used to be, right?  But it’s still good to get together. So on Monday morning, I want you to think back to this moment, ok?”

So I did and for a little while, I felt the weight fall off my shoulders and that everything will be ok.

For me Rainbow Connection is a song of hope, dreaming of a better future.  Maybe, just maybe, we could have that.

The 5 a.m. Wake Up Call Begins

Tomorrow I begin my 24th year as an art teacher.  I’m by all definitions and experiences considered a “Master Teacher”.  I am not new to this rodeo. I know the drill and with the rare exception I will know all of my students this upcoming year.  Yet, just as every year before I’m nervous, excited and a bit afraid I’ll oversleep.

I worry about the upcoming school year. Will it be a good year, like the last few? Every year, every class, has it challenges, and I can hope that I can smooth those over and create a safe environment that my students can feel they can take risks. I know I have reached many students and fostered a lasting connection with many of them. That’s evident when they come to spend their downtime in my classroom, working on their art or just hanging and talking. My heart hurts when I think of those who passed by my room who were not so fortunate.

I look forward not only seeing my students but my colleagues as well. We have a lot of fun and our staff lounge is of a place of laughter, pranks and jokers rather than a gossip chamber. I’ve made such good friends and I’m going to miss those who are retiring something fierce. If I’m being honest, I’m already a bit sad about saying goodbye.

So tomorrow I’ll wake up just a little after 5am, drink my tea and attempt to center my thoughts before I begin the routine of getting ready for my day. I’ll walk into the building with a smile and brave the new year and whatever it brings.

Song/Rant of the Week?

I am weary.

Was it only last week that there were three mass shootings within a few short days of one another?

A grown man attacking a child, cracking his skull, because he didn’t remove his hat during the national anthem. Assaulting a child, over a song?

ICE raids. Children coming home to empty houses on the first day of school. Parents just gone.

And that’s just headlines. Can’t forget about the continual investigations into possibly the most corrupt administrations in the history of this country, at least in my lifetime. And that’s saying a lot. The constant gutting of acts and laws that protect our environment other species that share our planet. Police brutality. Being Black or Trans or anything but a straight white male in America. The sickening news of abused children. Jeffery Epstien.

The incessant fighting over social media. No one’s willing to listen to each other. “It’s my right to own guns!”. Yes, it is, but what’s so wrong about some protections for me? The kids at my school? I don’t even know what it’s like to feel safe at my place of employment. Everytime I go to a public place I immediately scan for places to hide, to escape should I need to. Everytime I sit down to eat at a public restaurant I face the door so I can see whose coming. This weekend I went to an outdoor festival to see one of my favorite musicians and I spent more time looking for possible threats than enjoying the music. For nearly 25 years I’ve done this. Before Columbine. When some angry, troubled young man charged into the high school of the district I was then working in, with a list and his guns.

“We should help out our own citizens (or veterans, senior citizens, the words are interchangeable) before immigrants!” Ok, “Healthcare for all? ” “No! People should help themselves!” is the common retort. I don’t even know what to say anymore. No one seems to be listening. During the 2016 election I lost/was blocked by a longtime friend because I once said that though I liked the overall philosophy of the presidential candidate she loved, that he was still a politician just like the others and couldn’t really trust him. Since then I’ve pretty much kept my opinions to myself, and especially off of the social media where I socialize with friends and family. I don’t know if this is the right thing to do. I don’t want to get in fights with anyone, but…how can we expect positive change if we all can’t discuss our differences calmly and civilly?

So tired of all this bull. I’m not an overly religious person. In fact I’m a pretty poor excuse of a Catholic. But I have read the Bible. Cover to cover and more than once. Much of it is…crap, in that it is rules for people who lived a long time ago in a different world that they really didn’t understand. I got to say that there are some wonderful things to be taken from the Bible hat were not only good then, but today and quite possibly for all times. Matthew 7:12 is commonly known as The Golden Rule; Do onto others as you would have them do onto you. Be good to each other. (And if you look into all of the other major religions, they too have a similar rules). If only we could just follow this one simple rule, this one universal truth…

I’ll leave you with my song of the week. It came up on my randomized playlist while I was out walking the other day. It’s an older song (it came out during the years when George W. Bush our president), it’s still fitting and perhaps even more relevant today. Phil Marshall is a lovely man and and exceptional artist, not musician, artist. I saw him many years ago as an opening act and he quickly became one of my favorites. I probably have 90 different versions of this song, Energy, but this stripped down acoustic YouTube version might be one of my favorites.

Be good to each other people.

Fear and Bliss

This week I attended a workshop in preparation for the upcoming school year. What I picked up from the break-out sessions will be useful in my classroom this Fall and the two keynote speakers where entertaining and inspirational. The first keynote speaker played this clip about Will Smith speaking about fear and his experience about skydiving that struck a personal note with me.


The above clip is entertaining and worth watching in its entirety, but it is what he said in the following quote that I feel is the real message.

You realize that the point of maximum danger is the point of minimum fear…The lesson for me is why were you scared in your bed the night before? What do you need that fear for? Just don’t go. Why are you scared in your bed 16 hours before you jump? Why are you scared in the car? Why could you not enjoy breakfast?…Fear of what? You’re no where near the airplane. Everything up to the stepping out there’s actually no reason to be scared. It only just ruins your day. You don’t have to jump. And then in that moment when you should be terrified is the most blissful experience of your life and God placed the best things in life on the other side of terror. On the other side of your maximum fear are all of the best things in life.

Will Smith on Fear

I like the majority of people have fears. I used to be terrified of thunder and lightening as a kid. I’d cry and hide. Today I have better control over this fear in that I don’t cry and I only go hide if it’s threatening weather, like a tornado. I can recognize that there is some beauty in a thunderstorm even if a really loud boom still sets my heart racing. I also hate pigs, like I’m terrified of them. There are people who are arachnophobic, afraid of spiders. Me, total swinophobic. Confronted with a pig and I have a full on anxiety attack, yet I recognize that this is such a strange and silly fear (and admiringly very funny). Pigs can be mean but the odds of a pig really doing any harm to me is exceptionally slim. This fear, I’m willing to let be. I don’t live on a farm and the only time I could encounter a pig is at the county fair once a year.

I used to think I was shy, and maybe I was, but in reality my shyness was born out of fear. I was afraid of what other people might think of me or say about me. Given some of my social experiences in school early on one can kind of understand how that fear evolved. I didn’t take risks when it came to personal relationships. I was too afraid of being hurt or being laughed at. Unlike my fear of pigs though, this is not something I could ignore.

It has taken me an awful long time in life to let go of that fear and not let it rule my life. Will Smith is correct when he said that on the other side of your fear there are all these great things. I have made some deep, everlasting friendships. The bliss that I found by confronting this fear has been, as Will Smith said, one of the greatest things in my life. Humor, laughter. I discovered that I can make people laugh. I have this picture of some of my college buddies that I took. They were crowded on the couch in my friend Nate’s room. Their faces are pure joy, heads thrown back, each of them caught up in their biggest laugh. Pure joy. As I had clicked the button on the camera I had said something, some joke, that they apparently found most amusing. I no longer remember what the joke was, but I remember that feeling that I got from making my friends laugh. No longer do I hide my humor. In my classroom we laugh a lot. Students love being in my classroom because its a fun (and safe place). They leave it not only having learned something about art but also happy.

Taking risks and facing my fear boys and dating and THOSE kind of relationships took a lot longer. I have regrets in that I almost always seemed to let the fear win. I was scared of rejection. Could I have jumped to the other side of fear and found my greatest bliss (or at least the truth)? Yes, but I didn’t. I was terrified the whole time. I’ve dated but nothing was ever really serious. I never took the risk with anyone until my husband. I took a humongous leap of faith in becoming involved with him. Things are hardly perfect and we’ve struggled but there have been great rewards, great bliss in letting go and facing my fear.

So, from this point on, I am going to face my fears (except pigs) and make that jump. There are great rewards on the other side. I encourage everyone else to do the same.

The Misadventures of a Dyslexic

“You shouldn’t worry about college for your daughter,” Mrs. Fullmer, my first grade teacher commented to my Mom. “She’s probably not going to graduate from high school because she’s never going to learn to read.” Mrs. Fullmer didn’t say what she said to be mean or cruel, but it was what she perceived to be the truth. She was concerned about me and my future, and students with the issues I was presenting didn’t succeed in her experience. Mom didn’t tell me what my teacher said about me until many years later, yet even back then I knew I was struggling to keep up with my peers. I couldn’t read, the letters kept flipping around, b’s were d’s and what direction did “L” go again? I was frickin’ stupid, I thought.

I’ve decided to write about my experience with learning disabilities because my journey is worth sharing. Despite all the set backs and road blocks I’ve become a fairly successful adult. I can read, I graduated from high school AND college (4 times to be exact). As I teacher I have not shied away from sharing my story with students and parents who’ve needed to hear it, and while I’ve never made a secret of it, I don’t think I’ve actually shared with very many people. Probably because there are so many misconceptions about learning disabilities and I didn’t want to deal with them.

As a student that was struggling in school I was tested by the school to see if I would qualify for special ed. It can be a long process. Eventually I qualified in 3rd grade. I was diagnosed with dyslexia, obviously, dysgraphia and dyscalculia. All types of specific learning disabilities. So what are specific learning disabilities? It is a condition where the brain has difficulties comprehending or processing information. In short, the the does not “learn” in a typical manner, just differently. There are many more kinds of learning disabilities than the ones that I was diagnosed. Most people are aware of what dyslexia is as it is quite common. Letters, words and even numbers can be reversed, flipped or jumbled. Dyscalculia concerns math and the difficulties learning and/or comprehending mathematical concepts. Less well known is dysgraphia which affects a person’s writing. It can cause difficulties with poor handwriting, spelling and trouble putting thoughts to paper. For me, it was spelling and poor handwriting, which to this day is awful, but is much improved from what it used to be.

I received services through 9th grade. Usually the the subjects that I struggled in where replaced, meaning I would go to the special ed room and have lessons separate from my classmates. I worked with students who were at my academic level, not grade level. It was comfortable and I didn’t feel as stupid as felt in the general classroom. Testing would happen every couple years or so to see if I still qualified. I was tested at the beginning on 7th grade and my reading level was at a 4th grade level. There was an issue where my IEP (Individualized Educational Plan) was not complied, so I had to be retested again, 6 months later. My reading level had jumped up to college level. This was amazing! What happened?

It could have been any number of things. Or maybe all of them. My mom has always said that I’m one of the most resilient and courageous people she has ever known. Not much keeps me down. Also, I wanted to read. Badly. My life’s goal at the age of 9 was to read all of the Black Stallion books by Walter Farley. (Which I did achieve 4 years later). Mom took us to the public library weekly. She talked to the Children’s Liberian, who spent countless hours helping me find books. I had some wonderful teachers who believed in me and taught me that I could do anything I wanted. Mrs. Knoll, Mrs. Hennessey and Mrs. Brown taught me the skills and tools I needed to work around my non-typical brain. I had weekly therapy appointments at Easter Seals. There was a theory that my learning difficulties were connected to my inner ear. You see, I never, ever got dizzy, until one day during my therapy I got so dizzy I felt like I was going to puke.

I was phased out of special ed at the end of 9th grade. I probably didn’t need it anymore, but the particular school district we lived in at the time did not do me any favors by pushing me out of the program at that time. In 9th grade my classmates had all learned Algebra. I had not. The high school (10th-12th grades) did not offer Algebra, so I there I was with no way to advance in math. I did well enough in high school, took some college prep classes despite school counselors thinking I wasn’t capable. However, the lack of math would come back to haunt me.

While I knew from a young age that I was going to be an artist, the idea of being a teacher did not occur to me until I was a senior in high school. Even then, I didn’t pursue a teaching degree until my 2nd BA degree. In my state in order to become a teacher you had to pass a test called the PPST. The PPST had thee sections: writing, reading and math. I wasn’t worried about the reading or writing aspects of the test, but the math portion included Algebra, which as you recall I didn’t have any knowledge of. So back to the community college I went for a quarter, took a watercolor class for fun and audited an introductory Algebra class. Initially I was a bit afraid of the class, hence the audit instead of taking it for a grade, but I shouldn’t have been worried. I actually loved it. It was like solving little logic puzzles. Who knew algebra would be fun? My professor did keep track of my grade and I would have received an A. I passed the PPST the first time. Yay me! I still wonder though, if my old school district had given me the chance to continue on in math, what else might I have achieved?

Throughout my years as a teacher I have run across students who have had similar academic struggles. I’ve shared and encouraged when appropriate with my students and their parents. I feel that I have a very unique perspective that can help them. Many have also gone on and achieved their goals in becoming successful, happy people. I can only hope I helped.

It’s Who I Am

Last night I found an old article from my high school newspaper where I was interviewed for being Artist of the Month and it got me thinking a bit about my path to becoming an art teacher. It’s more than a job to me. Being an art teacher is a part of my identity

The decision to be an artist was easy. I have a clear memory of myself, age 8, writing a letter to my Grandma that I was going to be an artist when I grew up. While school on the whole was difficult for me I excelled at drawing and all things art related. It was the one thing I was better at than nearly everyone else. More importantly, I loved it. Without question I was going to do something with art, but the “what” didn’t become clear until much later.

Sometime during my senior year in high school the yearbook handed out these questionnaires concerning post graduation plans. I was sitting in Ms. Goddard’s class, my absolute favorite place to be in high school, trying to fill it out. I was drawing a blank about what to put as my major for college. I looked up at Ms. Goddard and thought, “Huh, I wouldn’t mind doing that.” Art Education it was.

I like to think I have the best job in the world, if you take away all the political bullcrap that pollutes education. What other job do you get paid to play around with art supplies and watch kids grow to their potential? The first several years of my career was spent teaching elementary aged students. I loved their energy and unhindered creativity. However, the bulk of my career has been spent teaching Middle and High school age students. I really like this age group and I feel that its where I was meant to be. A lot of fun is to be had in my art room as well as learning (Don’t tell the kids that!). Making art happen and getting to share that newly discovered joy in one of my students is great but the best part of my job is being able to build relationships with my students. Making connections. They know that I am and that my room is a safe place. After 23 years (I think?) of doing this I feel that I’ve reached my stride and that I’m pretty awesome at what I do.

It hasn’t always been so. It is a fairly common practice, though I didn’t know it at the time, that some school districts would hire a teacher for a year or two and no matter how good of a job they did they’d lay the teacher off and hire someone else fresh out of college. It’s a way to keep the salaries low, a bit ethically questionable but it does keep the costs down. This was done to me, at least 4 times in the first 7 years of teaching. It was heartbreaking having to leave the group of students I’d grown to care for time and time again. The worst was when I was cut after teaching for 4 years in the same district. I really was contemplating finding something else to do. It was too much heartbreak and it just seemed wrong to me that a job at Walmart seemed to be more stable than a teaching career.

One night after I had been given my pink slip I went out to a little dive bar with some friends that I didn’t get to see often. It was a lighthearted night for the most part with lots of laughter and easy conversation. My friend, (I’ll call him Matt for the sake of anonymity) asked how’d I been since we last saw each other. Though my intent had been to forget work and the stress of my situation, it all came pouring out about how I really thought I couldn’t deal with it anymore. Matt, possibly the most zen person I’ve ever known, in his infinite wisdom said something to me that I will stick with me till my end of days.

“You know, J., if quitting and finding something else to do is really what you want to do, that’s cool. But you can’t quit being you, because being a teacher, a mentor, that’s what you are. No matter what what job you end up with you are always going to be that person people look too. You’ve got a gift. So if you want to keep with it, that’s cool too.”

And Matt was right. While I didn’t exactly make the decision to keep plugging away at the teaching gig that night, that little nugget of advice ear-wormed its way though my brain. I did eventually apply and I found another position easily. It lasted a year before I was recalled back the previous district. I’ve been in my current district for about 20 years now. The days I feel like giving up are few and far between, but when they do crop up I remember Matt’s advice and realize I’m right where I need to be.