An open letter to the school district

 So the plan for school this year, at the K-5 level, was pretty complicated to begin. (the plan was made after lots of meeting and planning and careful consideration by doctors, officials, CDC, etc. Safety is the key, obviously.) But hey, it's Covid-19 2020, so that's no surprise. The K-5 kids would start out going to school in the classroom 2 days a week. Each teacher would have 1/2 a class at any given time. For example, Olivia would go Tuesdays and Fridays and the other half of her class would go Mondays and Thursdays. The rest of the days were simply no-school days. No distance learning-yahoo! This was to go on for 3 weeks. The 4th week would begin 5 days a week of in classroom learning. (nevermind the debacle of half of the class starting an hour earlier than the other half and then getting release an hour earlier.) Sounds pretty good, right? Ease the kids and teachers in in small sessions and small numbers to get everyone used to masks, hand-washing, social distancing, desks, and just plain terrible-seeming school days. (also nevermind the back and forth of emotions for my sweet girl. Not wanting to go at all with having to wear a mask and social distancing, to wishing she could start right off with 5 days a week.) Well, sometime about, oh, 5 days before the 4th week was to begin, there is news of a board meeting to discuss a survey that was sent to teachers, and to decide if actually going 5 days a week is the best idea. And come to find out, it was decided that it's actually NOT safe to have the kids go 5 days a week, so we can now plan on continuing the 2 days a week and adding remote learning for the other 3 days. Hmmm. Did anyone see that coming? Nope. You can probably imagine the confusion, frustration, and even outright anger that this was met with. Yikes. So here is my letter to the district, which I will never send, but needed to get down on paper so I can move on.

Dear administrators, staff, board, etc, etc,

Allow me to start off by acknowledging that this is an unprecedented time and of course I am grateful for all the hard work everyone is doing around the clock, probably rather than sleeping, to figure out how on earth to educate kids during a scary pandemic in which we are all totally over it. Trying to figure out how to keep kids safe, teachers safe, not burden families, caregivers, community partners. Not get on the wrong side of anyone, but inevitably making one extreme group or the other mad. Not knowing best practices for how to follow state safety guidelines and just hoping you're making the right decisions based on the information you have at any given time. Having to work with the buildings and grounds and budgets you have. I get it. I wouldn't want your job. I wouldn't. And what I wish could happen, what I think should have happened. What I want to happen next...well those things don't really matter much, because I don't have your job. But I feel compelled to at least give a little feedback on the present situation, so bear with me. 

From what I understand, the first 3 weeks weren't meant to be a trial run. The only thing that I thought would keep kids from returning to school 5 days a week would be a change in our safety status as a county. (you know, red, yellow, green. Yeah, you know.) Now that doesn't mean it's not a good idea to reevaluate things. I don't mean that at all. By all means, listen to the teachers and staff that are right in the thick of it if they have something to offer. BUT. Might I suggest a little more thorough and proactive communication with families and caregivers next time? I don't really know why you decided to give a survey to the elementary staff. Was it demanded by the union? Was it considered necessary based on frustrations or worries aired by teachers? Was it because another district did it? I don't know the reason, however in my humble opinion I think it would have been right and prudent to let families and caregivers know that because of X, you are going to survey the staff to see how they are feeling about moving forward with the 5 day a week plan, and that you know the timing is very bad and you know this wasn't the original plan, and you are sorry to throw this curve ball at us, but certainly the safety of students, teachers, and the community is top priority. OK, cool. Not great, but I get it. Thanks for letting us know. I sure hope the survey comes back with results that show a readiness to proceed because we're jazzed about learning and socializing and keeping our kiddo emotionally and mentally in a good place. (let me also pause and say that I also get that there are probably plenty of families and caregivers out there who were relieved to know the 5 days a week plan was nixed. They may feel much more nervous about the spread of the virus and appreciate efforts to maintain extra caution. Totally. I get that, too. Those people are like, thanks for letting us know. I sure hope they will take their time with this and maybe decide to postpone 5 days a week.) So now we all know there was a survey and we know things might change. Some of us are happy, some are confused and some are already made before the results are even brought to a board meeting. But at least there was communication.

This brings me to my second thought. Why were parents, community partners and others also surveyed? 

OK, and now for the doozy. Maybe at this point, after the survey was given and answered and discussed...Maybe it's a good time to say, hey look everyone, we made a mistake. We want so badly to teach your kids that we naively thought it would work out to bring them to school 5 days a week after 3 weeks. We were wrong. There was no way for us to know the strain it would put on the teachers. There was no way to realize the maxed out room capacities or other logistical nightmares that came to light only when we had kids in the buildings. We are SO SORRY that we couldn't have known this and that we made a plan that we couldn't follow through on. WE KNOW how hard this will be on lots of people. WE KNOW there are multitudes of problems this will bring. WE KNOW that remote learning was way less than ideal in the Spring for 100s of reasons. WE KNOW being around peers and caring adults is super important to the development of your kids emotional and mental health. WE KNOW there are tons and tons of you who can't work from home and are now stuck. WE KNOW AND WE ARE SORRY. BUT we honestly are scared. No one wants to constantly worry about someone getting coronavirus because while they were at school a certain guideline couldn't be followed. NO ONE wants your kids or anyone else to get sick. We aren't making this change because teachers are complaining about a new way of teaching. (which let's face it, must be super hard. Super sad, even. No teachers want to have to teach this way, especially to little kiddos!) It's the safety. WE ARE SORRY WE GOT IT WRONG. And at this point, rather than saying in two weeks we'll know more. In 3 weeks we'll have some things figured out. We need to figure out budgets and buildings and staff and this and this and that. At this point, we'd like to say that it's best to plan on 2 days a week in the classroom and 3 days of remote learning indefinitely. UNLESS we have to go to all remote learning. (yikes, maybe leave that part out just for now.)  Do you see what I'm saying? 

Basically, just, Hey folks, our communication was lacking, our planning was optimistically naive, WE WERE WRONG AND WE'RE SORRY and now let's just plan on 2 days a week in the classroom and 3 days a week remote and you can bet we're doing our best to make that situation as good as it can be, both while your kids are with us and while we're helping them learn from a distance. Period. 

And so there are my thoughts. 

With sincere gratitude for all the unknown things you do daily and forgiveness for the mistakes we all make,, and apologies for liking to think I might know more than someone who is actually facing all of this head on,

An anonymous parent.

PS I live right behind one of the schools. I have SEEN all the work that has been done to prepare for coronaschool. I have seen the effort put into the classrooms and lunchroom and outdoor spaces. I KNOW so much has been done to keep everyone safe. I can't imagine all the work that has gone into all of that. THANK YOU.

Half a Year of Thoughts

Here I sit in the time of pandemic. A lucky one by all accounts. I don't know anyone who has struggled health-wise from Covid 19. Certainly I don't know anyone who has died. We all have our jobs, save Cade, who thanks to a nice dose of youthful optimism, or naivete, or plain luck due to unemployment checks and plenty of other things to keep him occupied, is doing great. Thanks to Jeff's summers off we haven't had to scramble to find safe childcare. Olivia even has a best friend whose family agreed, after 3 months of quarantining, that the girls could safely play together. To top it all off, while small businesses have been falling behind on payments, struggling to stay open and finally closing doors, unable to make ends meet, we have the good fortune and audacity to open a small business that appears to be thriving. We don't have black or brown skin in this hateful country, and so amidst the violence and oppression and racism, we remain privileged, safe, ignorant to the pain millions of people wake up with every day because their skin is not white. We not only don't live where natural disasters strike, we live in one of the prettiest places to be in summer and we get to take advantage of it with leisure and luxury. Our life is a freaking joy ride. 

And yet.

As the summer slowly creeps to and end, as Autumn draws close, bringing with it's cooler breezes the evergreen feeling of a new beginning, this year it feels different. In the past those wisps of crisp air have carried hope and and almost excitement of a new start. New routines. New activities. New teachers, classes, friends. This year, though, as my eyes light upon a lone red leaf, as dusk meets the day and ushers it out sooner, I feel nervous. Almost dread. The uncertainty of all that is coming sometimes nearly freezes me in place. Olivia is transferring to a new school for 3rd grade, as all kids do in this town. But they don't get orientation. They don't get to tour the school or see their classroom. They don't get to meet their new teacher. What will school be like for Olivia? How will she wear a mask all day long? How will she be able to make new friends or even nurture old friendships from 6 feet apart. She is already quiet. How will her classmates and teachers hear her beautiful, intelligent voice now, muffled by fabric? How will the kids play? Will school be fun? Will it hold any joy? How can we expect so much from teachers? From 8 year olds? She's starting on the gymnastics team this year. A low-risk sport when it comes to the virus. Yet again my heart beat speeds up when I consider all that's involved. Normally I would be filled with concerns about broken arms, sprained ankles, bumps and bruises. This year, though, it's more than that. We're not allowed in the building for safety reasons. How will she do? She will be the only one joining, so all the other girls will already know each other and know the drill, as it were. Will they open their circle to her? Will they befriend her and show her the ropes. Will they hear her from 6 feet away? Will she feel scared? Will she feel alone? Will she learn and grow in her skills? Will we be allowed to watch her at any point? Will she be happy? The same pondering swirls around my mind for Jeff. How will he be able to teach online 4 days a week and in class 4 days a week? There aren't 8 days in a week! Technology did not prove to be his friend last Spring. Has the district better prepared for the Fall semester? Will the students in his classes participate online? Will he feel the camaraderie with his kids that he normally feels and makes him such a beloved teacher? It's his first year teaching calculus. Will it go okay despite all of this? And last but not least. Will we stay healthy? 

In my heart of hearts I know that everything will be fine. Fine. Which is much better than many, if not most, have it from day to day. Everyone and everything has been affected by this pandemic. I can't help but want it to be more than fine, though. Even amidst our luck, our good fortune, our privilege, I can't help but worry about the future and wish it would all go back to "normal." For now I hope I will continue to acknowledge how lucky we are. I certainly hope in the future we will look back at this time and see how much we gained amidst the loss. See how much things changed for the better despite the sadness of it all. We will learn from this, right? Right?

From a Place of Privilege

So today we are in our 2nd week of social distancing due to the Coronavirus. I haven't begun to give my mind the space to really think about the devastation this virus has already had on the world and the fact that it has probably just begun. I'd like to say I'm simply too busy homeschooling Olivia, figuring out how to someday open a bookshop even though the timing has drastically changed, working to keep peace and harmony in our home of lonely, bored, restless, worried family members. But the truth is, it is simply too scary for me to contemplate fully. Like many issues in our world, I am fortunate to look from a place of privilege. Meaning I am not forced to contemplate the ravages of injustice the majority of the world face on a daily basis. I recognize this. I am trying to use my privilege for change, even in small ways.

Yesterday I read a post on social media that came from a place of hope, love, good intention and optimism. It was a post talking about how the children of the class of 2030 will look back on 2020 and not remember how terrible it all was. They won't remember the economic downfall, the sickness and death, the anxiety and worry. Instead they will remember family dinners, playing outside, being homeschooled and surrounded by creativity, fresh air and loving family. It was made to be a feel-good post in the midst of great turmoil. Words of hope. And while I 100% believe it came from the biggest heart and purest intention, it gave me immediate pause.

Because the kids that graduate in 2030 with those memories of 2020 will have come from the same place of privilege I sit in now. Yes, this virus is ravaging everyone. We are in this together.And yet. Those with a situation like mine are truly lucky. My 8 year old has a mama who already stayed home much of the time planning activities, helping with school, taking her on outings, playing with her, encouraging her to read and draw and create and move her body. She has a daddy who already plays with her every day, cooks her amazing meals every night, snuggles with her at bedtime, has summers off to spend quality time at home and on a myriad of outings around our gorgeous state. She already has grandparents who are healthy and able to call and check in and send messages of love. She lives in a position of great privilege.

My guess is that those 2030 graduates who look back on 2020 with memories that don't include anxiety and fear ALREADY have the kind of life and family pictured in the social media post. BUT LET US NOT FORGET. Not every child, in fact I would wager a guess that MOST children, are not experiencing this time in the same way. Let us not forget those children who live in food-insecure homes. Whose parents relied on school meals twice a day to feed their children. Let us not forget the children whose parents already work 2 jobs or late nights or inconsistent schedules to try to make ends meet, whose parents already struggle to find childcare when their kids are sick, who already worry about missing a day or two of work when they are sick. Let us not forget the kids in big cities who don't have yards or parks to play in, let alone parents who can take the time to get them outside. Let us not forget the kids in rural areas who are isolated even more now. Let us not forget the kids who don't have extended families to call or video chat with. Let us not forget the kids whose parents are SCARED for a multitude of valid reasons by what this virus is doing. Parents who are scared of contracting the virus because of all the misinformation out there. Who are scared of being unable to pay bills or buy groceries. Parents who are scared their kids will become lonely or sick or fall behind in school. Let us not forget kids who live with their grandparents, who are now scared to go out because they are vulnerable. Let us not forget the kids who are now stuck at home with caregivers who are addicts or abusers. Let us not forget the kids who can feel the fear in their parents voices who talk openly about the coronavirus. Let us not forget the kids who received extra help for behavioral or learning difficulties from teachers at school, who are now unable to get the specialized care they need.

I would love nothing more than to look back at this chaotic time and have it be filled with positive memories. I would love that to be true for all the kids in the world. But that is a dream for the privileged. So what do I do? What do we do to help? I'm going to start by trying to be grateful each day. By thanking the school and teachers who are spending an incredible amount of time and energy to create a way for students to continue to learn, eat, play and have some structure. By checking in on neighbors, family and friends. By keeping my eyes and heart open to see those around me who might be hurting, who might need help. By dropping off a roll of toilet paper on a porch. By sending a card or letter to a classmate. By donating to hospitals or food pantry's or shelters. By allowing myself to feel my own fears and anxieties and remember that each day is new. Each minute is new. By approaching each person, place and situation with compassion.

People have rallied together in the most beautiful and creative ways to help one another. It has been inspiring to see. Let those of us who hold privilege consider how to be there for those who don't. 

We are all in this together.

February 2020

making her own paper doll :)

Abe loves standing on the ice and drinking the water. yikes!

we had the coolest, prettiest ice all over, but of course I couldn't capture it!

Livi created her own Ritz hors d' ourves!

Livi reading to all her cats

Another girls day creation

winter hike

I mean...

Stella and Livi on our way to the 2nd grade ski trip!

Livi and two other kiddos were the only ones who got to go up on the chair lift!

Our friend and author made a quilt for the auction that helps provide the grant for this trip

shopping downtown and we got to have free tea at Now You're Cooking :)

I love when we get to build with this toy. This was THE BEST creation we've built so far!

totally amazing train village at the library

totally amazing fort built by Daddy and Livi. It even has a broom in the middle to make it higher!