what summer "break" looks like for a teacher

Chance the Rapper

There is a myth in the "corporate world" that simultaneously praises teachers for all their hard work while grumbling underneath their breath about the glorious two-month summer break. Let me be clear: summer does not balance out all the extra hours, energy, money, and emotion we pour into our calling during the 180 days of the school year, nor is it really a break. Not for the teachers who seek to stretch themselves in creative ways to evolve.

As an English teacher, one can choose to teach the canonized texts, five paragraph essay, and persuasive speech techniques, or one can be a responsive teacher incorporating current events, creating intentional classroom communities, and guiding students through "edgy" Young Adult literature that speaks to the world in which they exist. Being the latter, I am anxiously anticipating the upcoming 2018-2019 school year to teach in the Readers/Writers Workshop structure; it is everything and every way I ever wanted to teach, but had not yet figured out how to put together perfectly during my first five years of teaching.

So, when my new instructional coach e-mailed me offering me the chance to attend a two-day workshop strictly over the methodology and application of the Readers/Writers Workshop, I squealed like you do when you unexpectedly get a Target gift card and already have a fridge and pantry full of groceries. Let me clarify those of you who might not be aware of the way PD (professional development) works for us in the summer: every teacher is required to earn a designated amount of PD hours in order to be able to take the week off with our students during Thanksgiving Break - in other words we have to earn that "break" - it can range from a required 6-10 hours. I am technically a "new" teacher at McKinney ISD, which means I already have three days before all teachers return the week before school starts for "new teacher orientation", and why does that matter? Because I am set on PD hours for the requirement. Meaning that no one would bat an eye if I kicked my feet up, played on Pinterest, and avoided getting out in the Texas heat until my "new teacher orientation" on August 6th.

But that's not my style.

On July 18th, my alarm buzzes me awake quickly followed by a most-necessary cup of fresh coffee. If you asked my husband, coffee is always a priority for me. The sweet man guides me down to the Keurig on this glorious summer PD morning. He is often up hours before me during the summer, I mean the man wakes up at like 5 AM because he is working on 18 projects at once. Did I mention he doesn't drink coffee?! What a weirdo. Thankfully he doesn't question my addiction.

Fast forward through my sort of seamless commute.

After the 50 minute drive, I park and quickly discover the training is being held in the band hall (weird...but okay). I walk in a couple minutes past 9:00 just as the instructor is saying, "...and we will be doing lots of table talking so you'll want 4 people at your table..." I quickly scan the room to see my friend Anthony who is supposed to be saving me a seat, but that empty seat next to him is gone as soon as I have it in my sight.

He had one job - save the seat - c'mon man. It's not that I have to sit with people I know, but Anthony and I taught and coached together six years ago and are now getting to teach together again, so we were looking forward to catching up while training. My eyes continue to scan to discover an empty chair at the first table to my right, so I slip right in and nod to the three fellow educators who seem to do better with the on-time concept than I do in the summer months.

Teachers can sometimes imitate student behavior when you put us all in the metaphorical and literal "student" seat. Some teachers will bring laptops and work on unrelated things, others will discreetly play on their phones, some will avoid any collaborative work. Like why are you here then? Okay, but I am not one of those. I am the opposite. The dive in the deep-end fearless voice ready to share with anyone because that's my favorite part of my job. The "we all have a story" cliche phrase pumps through my veins like the oxygen necessary for survival.

Part of the workshop requires our acting as the students in order to experience the application of the structure and to allow the instructors to mimic "teacher" guidance while explaining the purpose for the activity and mannerisms in how they handle it. We are handed a sheet of author bios and told to analyze the what and how for 10 minutes.

Bio 1: this guy seems to have an authentic purpose, he breaks grammatical rules, he cares more about the audience, and he acknowledges his work has been awarded

Bio 2: has a couple books, won a couple awards, married, likes cats

Bio 3: facts about career, a deprecating tone regarding hobbies that humanizes the author, humorous conclusion

On I go about 10 authors before time is up and we turn to table talk. Then whole class discussion. Hands shoot up, answers state the what and the how. It's always interesting to me that when identifying information we are fully capable and confident. If we can point to it we seem to want to share it because there is safety in the tangible. Yes, even us educators behave for the most part within these constraints.

Instructor one has written all the responses on a jumbo sticky note in the front of the room as we feverishly copy into our notebooks too. "Information is the key" we are trained to think. And who can blame us? As educators we are subconsciously one small gear in a bigger machine that mass produces graduates that can perfectly regurgitate information like their lives depend on it, but can they think critically? Studies show they cannot. And in fact struggle greatly because of it once on the collegiate level. Not to mention how it impacts them as an individual.

"Now you will write your own author bio," instructor two states.

There's a faint groan across the room. Yeah, you read that right. In a room of English teachers there's resistance to writing. Why? I have many theories, but I will save that for another blog. Briefly though, I believe the English class has been the most underrepresented class in the education system for decades. And it is because of this that it has become some predictable routine of read this classic, write this research paper, answer these quiz questions to prove you read (even though I know you didn't because you have zero interest in the text probably because you aren't reflected in the text), then wash and repeat.

I somehow avoided falling into this cycle thanks to a weird obsession with writing/reading at a young age and learning from two fantastic teachers during my 11th and 12th grade AP courses. They did their best to expand the cycle while still satisfying the AP College Board requirements and teaching like they were taught. When there is decades of routine working against change, educators sometimes struggle to make the necessary changes.

My pen dances across my lined composition notebook. First, I always bring my own pens. It's a combination of preferring a felt tip Paper Mate to any type of gel or ball point (ugh!) and OCD (like where have these pens even been?) that caused me to start carrying a pen pouch with me everywhere I go. It helps the writing process to be creating something new with a familiar touch. About seven minutes pass.

"Stop and read through your work," instructor two slips back into my reality.

I only need one more word...what is it? Fame? No, I don't want to be famous. Ew. Accomplishment? No, because what is the definition of an accomplishment? Way too subjective and means I must win some awards or something - pass.

I draw a blank at the end of the sentence that I know is unfinished as I have an adjective waiting for the noun it can modify.

I glance up. Instructor two has filled a large jumbo sticky note with her own author's bio. She discusses how she would do this in front of her students. You must write in front of them to model the process unfiltered so they do not just see end products and think they suck. (Too many teachers make this mistake unknowingly and it is soul-crushing to kids who already doubt their ability to write or validity to share their voice. We have to do better.)

"Now, let's spend a quick two minutes revising." She suggests, but it isn't really an option. As soon as she has said it her back is to us and she is engrossed in her first draft.

Good, I need to figure out this word. There's always this super passive clause that makes me appear pretentious. Get that out of here. Let's just start with the subject-noun instead of any build up clause - get to the point Samantha. IMPACT! That's the word.

I fill in the blank, add an extra sentence about the purpose of my writing and the two minutes is up. We share with our table.

"Who would like to read their author bio allowed to the group?"

And just like that, there's minimal movement, averting eye-contact, and silence. A hand stretches out and is selected quickly affirming the brave choice made. Their author's bio is shared and both instructors comment on specifics in an effort to continue the positive recognition of the effort that was made. My hand is next. Anthony smirks from across the room. Clearing my throat, I fight the urge to preface my work. There's an inner need to downplay something so fresh almost as a defense mechanism.

"Samantha Woodson is the girl who loves the inviting nature of a bookstore and laughs loudly without warning. Born in Washington state, she rushed to Texas as fast as she could at the young age of one year old where she much later stumbled into her BA in English from UT San Antonio. Her poetry is published in both the literary journal, Sagebrush Review, and online. Her husband swooned her with a beautiful poem during one of their earlier dates and is a constant partner in her ongoing pursuit of literary impact. As a warrior of anxiety and OCD, Samantha writes authentically about the struggles as well as approaches to facing fears and insecurities that may at first seem debilitating, but are in fact a facade that she wants to help you defeat."

"I love the verb choice in there - 'stumbled' into your degree and...he 'swooned' you right? Such subtle descriptors within the actions," instructor two commends my work. And with that we are given a mid-afternoon break. Anthony walks by acting like he's wiping something off his nose. Brown-noser huh? There's a consensus among even us as educators that to share can only be logical when there's ulterior motives behind the act. Shame. Yet another side-effect of being a byproduct of the traditional education system when the teacher is the one who speaks 95% of the time and the students who do speak up are your classic Hermione types.

Day two and I stroll in a good 5 minutes early ready to rejoin my new peers. One step into the band hall and Anthony is flagging me to his table across the room with our colleague Rebecca. Ummm...like am I just supposed to bail on these people I just met yesterday? I mean yeah there's just one sitting here, but the others are coming...and I have to walk right by that table to get over there. It is too early for all this.

"What's up? We are over here," he gestures to their table. Rebecca looks up and smiles, but the other girl I don't know.

"Umm what am I supposed to tell my table from yesterday?" I demand.

"This is the McKinney High table," he states explaining the other colleague to his right.

"Okay, well let me go say something at least." I give in, put my bag down, and walk back to my original day one table that is now full. I quickly explain how my campus is sitting together and I got summoned, but it's a "me not you" type of thing. They laugh and I move on. Educators have tough skin, I mean hello Parent-Teacher Conference Rule #1.

Workshop day two is just as interesting with a little less hype on our part. I mean it is summer, and we all want to imagine we are on a real break even though it's more like a hibernation of our own making with sprinkles of professional development, stress of prepping our classrooms, and attempting to organize digital files that sit in list format on our google drives.

"Let's start with this incredible video," instructor one welcomes us back and plays the video waiting for us on the screen titled "I am NOT Black, You are NOT White". I pull out my pen pouch and jot down some notes while watching the video:

-labels

-digest

-bodies = car, race = edition

-race was invented

-who would you be if you never were given a label (call to action)

-caterpillar metaphor

Prince Ea

The video wraps up and instructor one follows it with telling us to respond. That's it. Just respond to the video. See, prompts restrict critical thinking skills. Yeah they can be helpful to sort of model various approaches to a video, but if all you do is prompt your students don't be surprised when they can't come up with an idea on their own.

My favorite type of "prompt".

There's a moment of hesitation. The topic of racism and prejudice is wider than Moses' parting of the Red Sea, which lends itself to surface level introspection that can feel acceptable because it ties in and affirms the ideology of overcoming prejudice. But that is not enough.

So lets start with my honest perspective.

10 minutes of writing later, we discuss the ongoing metaphor in the video as a whole class and then are challenged to add a metaphor into our piece within the revision time period. I attempt to weave in an "opaque curtain of racism" metaphor, but it is not my best work. That's the best thing about writing - it doesn't need to be your best work. It's ongoing.

We sort of awkwardly look around at each other at the table. Table talk time. Since we didn't sit together yesterday as a whole group, there isn't that first day bond formed. We press forward and share. The practice of reading your ideas without additional commentary is an intimate experience - there is vulnerability in it if you want an authentic response. In order to lead us through another mini-lesson, we are explained the feedback structure of "Bless, Press, and Address". Unfortunately, many of us teachers are forced into the limitations of a rubric, but the format does not lend itself to individual feedback that students so require especially regarding written work in English class.

The guidelines are as follows:

Bless: positively affirm

Press: nudge to expand

Address: meet to fix any struggles

Again, being the dutiful and somewhat robotic "students", we are jotting these notes down when the instructor one requests for two volunteers so we can practice the "bless" part of the feedback structure.

"Everyone get two sticky notes, one for each of our volunteers, and start by writing your name at the top, then we will listen and respond with a positive acknowledgement commenting on a specific portion of the work." The rustling of pens and paper moving about the tables overwhelms the band hall. Silence. I glance around the space, Anthony again gestures like I have something on my nose. Such a hater. A few minutes later a hand goes up behind me.

"Okay, we have one volunteer of our two that we need...insert the teacher wait out," instructor one comments. The teacher wait out is a classic move. Oh you think we meant volunteering was an option? Somebody gone sacrifice as tribute up in here...I love this move. Why isn't anyone offering up their voice? Not everyone is a writer, but come on. Maybe because the topic is prejudice and racism and people are so afraid to say something wrong...just speak up.

Time passes. Both instructors' eyes scanning the room back and forth back and forth like a windshield wiper. Silence. Whatever. I raise my hand again to volunteer.

"Thank you Samantha," instructor one says. Anthony rolls his eyes. First we listen to volunteer one read her piece, then complete calmness sweeps through the hall. Every single person is putting pen to paper drafting an affirmation for this total stranger. I turn around and pass my sticky note to her. And without prompting, people just walk over to her with their sticky notes. Nobody says anything because we have written down our commentary so that she has permanent tangible affirmations. Even the instructors.

Now it's my turn:

"Living in a world of labels as a white woman has been easy until I began to associate, spend time, and even *gasp* date those of another label. If we are designed to distort a connection, why do we seek so much connection that we become obsessed? Posting, snapping, making stories, liking, commenting, hashtagging. Is it because we cannot connect in our real world due to the social construct of race? It has never been more clear to me the concerns that we posses derive only from our personal experience. You see, I am married to an amazing man. He is educated, a veteran, and a public servant, but when we have a son the world will not see the positive impact of my husband in him. They will see a label. And the manner in which that label is currently addressed is terrifying to me as a mother because I cannot protect him from the labels stuck on him by others."

I look up from my notebook. I wonder what people heard. Does this even make sense? Social media to my husband to my future son? Did I read loud enough for this band hall? I am trying to sit still as I am now literally the only person in the room doing nothing. Anthony is first to pass me his sticky note; I start to read it when I am handed another, and another, then multiple from one table all in a stack, then from the instructors, then another. They have completely flooded my notebook with a wave of recognition.

"Now I wish I would have volunteered," Rebecca comments as she sees my notebook get completely covered by pale yellow notes. I can't even read them at this pace - I am just stacking them unsure what to do except quietly thank each person. As the last table sends their notes to me and I place the stack on top of all the others haphazardly, the instructor asks myself and the other volunteer to describe the experience. We both speak on the overwhelmingness of it and the intimacy of reading over 20 individualized notes about such a new piece of writing. The visual impact of my raw piece of writing being covered in positive observations, suggestions, and recognition by complete strangers is surreal.

"Imagine doing this with your students - maybe not a whole class activity to start, try in small groups, but creating the same experience described is a way to build the community of writers."

This is what I am all about. No notes say "good job" or "well-written" because those are empty compliments that demonstrate a clear lack of listening. We aren't here to perpetuate the robotic factory line of education that we were streamlined through. We are here to recognize each other's voices, teacher to student, but more importantly student to student. I am not the sole audience, nor am I the authoritative figure that everything must be approved by. Imagine the possibilities that this activity offers. The authentic listening skills that are so blatantly lacking in the social media and political arenas currently.

How can you build this activity into your classroom, your work place, or even your family?

***Thank you to instructors Amy Rusmussen and Lisa Dennis for leading such an incredible workshop and to McKinney ISD for providing us with the resources to progress***