I clearly remember sitting in the board room in Mesa Public Schools, the summer before what would be my first full year as a high school Spanish teacher.  All of the world language teachers from around the district were gathered together for some professional development before the official start to the school year.  The district language coordinator had russled up enough money to pay us all for an extra day (as most teachers new to the profession, I would have worked for free and was desperate for whatever training and support I could get my hands on).  As the morning began, we did the customary things – filled out sign-in sheets, enjoyed some light snacks, had a brief hello and welcome from the district superintendent, and then a round of introductions.  Then, the dancing m&ms high-stepped into the room, a la the Rockettes.  

The “m’s” emblazoned on all of the dancers’ shirts stood for “memorable” and “meaningful,” what would soon be revealed to us as the theme for that school year.  The message was clear – nothing you do will really matter if your don’t do it with the goal of making it both memorable and meaningful for your students.  Otherwise, yours will just be another brief stop on the ever-moving train of high school – a class that might be rarely remembered or thought about.  Now, 16 years later, I still remember the message and how it was delivered with clarity.  It met the memorable and meaningful standard of practice.

To be memorable, we must create moments that are out of the ordinary, that break the normal routine.  Yes, education can be something of a slog at times, for teachers and students alike.  Learning new skills and knowledge can take a lot of practice over time.  During a year of distance learning, it can be similarly easy to fall into the trap of being satisfied with the routine, day in and day out.  To be memorable, we have to deliberately shake things up and do something a little unexpected.  Dancing m&m’s was a bit zany and a little bit nuts, but it definitely hit the mark. 

To be meaningful, we have to invest in strong relationships of trust with our students and professional colleagues.  We have to understand what is important to our students, and then we have to show how what we have to offer can be applicable in their lives, both in the classroom and outside of school.  We have to deliberately make connections between students’ academic identities and the broader world around them.  Students have to see that you are personally invested in their success.  Sitting in that board room, surrounded by dancing curriculum specialists, I had a clear impression that here was a curriculum coordinator who would do whatever if took to support me in my efforts to be effective in the classroom.  

Now in distance learning, we have to be especially creative to make things memorable and meaningful.  I’ve seen it happen in many ways, from cultural exchanges with student presentations in traditional costume, to student moderated debates, to teachers who volunteered to  pass out student materials so they could personally meet each one of their students.  Sometimes the efforts are big – like a Halloween caravan this coming Saturday, to those that are very small – like a personal phone call to a student who seems to be struggling to connect.  Whether big or small, our efforts to make the student experience as memorable and meaningful as possible have a positive impact.  And sometimes, perhaps not always but sometimes, those efforts stay with a student for the rest of their lives.  

As with any good read, there are statements in the Distance Learning Playbook that stopped me in my tracks and forced me to reflect and think a little harder.  When you engage concepts that challenge your thinking, it opens a space ripe for new learning.  A few quotes and concepts caught my attention as I read and reflected, and I thought I would share some of those interactions:

“Teachers should not hold an instructional strategy in higher esteem than their students’ learning.”  

This quote caught my attention as it clearly challenges teachers to pay attention to the impact of their preferred instructional strategies.  It is an invitation to ongoing inquiry – how do you know that your go-to instructional strategies are the ones that lead to the most powerful student learning?  What is your evidence?  It reminded me of my experience in preparing for National Board Certification.  Our teacher, who happened to be one of the first National Board Certified teachers in the state of Arizona, constantly challenged us to state our evidence in the form of a statement of cause and effect: “I do (strategy) which causes students to (student action) which impacts learning by (rationale and evidence of learning).”  It forces the teacher to reveal their theory of student learning connected to any given instructional strategy.  Prior to that class, I had never been challenged to articulate the connection between my instructional strategies and evidence of student learning, at least not by a fellow teacher.  

“It is the feedback from the assessment, not the assessment itself, that matters.”

This is a basic statement of the purpose of assessment.  It is to inform future learning.  It is a tool designed for the benefit of student development.  Unfortunately, whether formative or summative in nature, assessment is sometimes seen by students and teachers alike as a static measure of intelligence or performance.  It’s simply an entry for the gradebook.  I love how the authors challenge such perspectives and ask classroom teachers to think deeply about how they are using assessment in the classroom.  Specifically, how are you providing ongoing, quality feedback to students.  In this sense, the instructional practices that surround our assessment practices make all of the difference in whether feedback is both accessible and useful to learners.  

“Dynamism…is really about your ability to communicate enthusiasm for your subject and your students.  And it’s about developiing spirited lessons that capture students’ interest.”

I loved that the authors dedicated an entire chapter outlining the need for teachers to establish credibility with their students.  Students care little about professional titles and certification, and grant credibility and authority to teachers who demonstrate enthusiasm and love for both the subject and students being taught.  The authors refer to that personal engagement and energy as teacher “dynamism.”  

“Agreements serve to convey high expectations, mutual respect, and an acknowledgement of the learning community’s needs.  A set of rules that are strictly compliance based tell the students that you’re the one with all the power, and they better listen or else.”  

This statement turns common perceptions about classroom rules on their head.  It is an assertion that high expectations are much more than the simple enforcement of rules.  Rather, we reinforce high expectations when we engage our students in conversations about what it means to be a community of learners.   “Agreements,” by the very meaning of the word, suggest that students have the capacity to share responsibility for the quality of the learning environment.  They are not passive recipients of learning, but rather are active participants.  We embrace students as co-contributors and co-designers of the learning environment. 

One of the most notable elements of Fisher, Frey, and Hattie’s recently released Distance Learning Playbook is that they start things off in the very first chapter focusing on strategies teachers can use for taking care of themselves during Distance Learning.  As the authors point out, and many of us in the profession who experienced the sudden physical closure of schools in spring 2020 can attest, the initial shift was not really to distance learning.  Rather, we all found ourselves in crisis teaching mode, not to mention living in the midst of a true global crisis.  Teachers around the world frantically worked to create their virtual learning environments, learn and master new software platforms, develop new instructional strategies, and model for students what it looks like to navigate uncertainty on every side.  

That type of work, while certainly heroic, is not necessarily sustainable in the long term , and the entire first chapter of the Distance Learning Playbook is designed to provide teachers with tools and strategies to take care of themselves while in Distance Learning mode.  Amongst these practical strategies, was the strong suggestion that teachers establish protected spaces, both physically and around their daily schedule.  In addition to creating a dedicated workspace, teachers engaged in distance learning are encouraged to create routines that help them transition in and out of their work routines.  Of course when we go to school, there are natural routines and breaks built into the day to signal our transitions into work and then again away from work.  When your home is your office, those lines become increasingly blurred, making it necessary to create deliberate routines to make the transition.  Whether it is moving into a different room and taking a few moments to read or enjoy a snack, your mind and body sometimes need permission to turn off work.  The authors encourage using routines in the morning, during scheduled breaks, and in the afternoon to help us manage our energy and health – both physical and mental.  

I know that in those early days of crisis teaching, I struggled tremendously to create those routines.  I often worked through the entire day without any regular breaks or time for lunch.  Within just a couple of weeks, it was clear that I wouldn’t be able to sustain the pace and constant connection to my computer screen.  I prioritized a lunch hour, as well as an afternoon break.  While it was difficult at first to resist responding to calls, texts, and emails during my break times, eventually I was able to train myself to leave my phone in my work area (which at the time was a corner of my bedroom at my nightstand, since we are a family of 8 living in a small 3-bedroom house at the time).  These small changes helped tremendously, and with time I found that I was able to establish an even better balance in terms of my work day than I had experienced when school was regularly in session.

The authors go on to discuss the concept of “compassion fatigue” and how teachers – amongst many service-oriented professionals – can in times of crisis experience a type of secondary trauma as they support and serve those who are experiencing trauma and difficulty firsthand.  They recommend that teachers create spaces for socialization and group support, whether it be with fellow teachers, or other family and friends who can provide much needed interaction and conversation.  At Lincoln School, our human resources department has worked with staff to provide a series of virtual social events.  Whether staff is practicing yoga together, learning to play guitar, or learning how to cook different cuisines from around the world, these digital meet-ups provide a space to laugh and learn together.  Just last week our IT team invited me for a socially distanced coffee chat.  Those 20 minutes of sitting and talking about family and life away from work were some of the most regenerative I’ve experienced with work colleagues since the pandemic hit.  I was surprised at how much I enjoyed myself, and how much I could tell I needed that time.  

Before the pandemic, it seems that these transitions and moments of informal connection were naturally built into our days.  Now we have to deliberately design and implement them.  Whatever the strategies we choose, being thoughtful to care for ourselves becomes the foundation for meaningful, engaged, and sustainable distance learning for our students.  

On Friday, I found myself sitting (socially distanced) with a few members of our IT team, drinking a hot chocolate and taking a few moments to connect about things that weren’t work related.  It was incredibly refreshing.  It’s crazy to think that I have been working with members of this team for over 3 months, and it was the first time we had sat in a room and talked face to face.  We shared stories about family life and navigating a pandemic.  We laughed and, for a moment, felt human at work.  

This morning, I was back on campus, this time for a team meeting organized by our finance and operations division.  The team has been doing some visioning and team building during the past few months, and today they were able to share that work with the broader team.  We started the morning out in the courtyard, engaged in a simple team-building activity.  We had to collaboratively determine what we would take with us if we were heading out for a weekend of survival in the Costa Rican mountains.  Mostly, we laughed.  Then we filed into the cafeteria, a big space that could accommodate participants safely while we enjoyed a traditional Costa Rican breakfast.  It was one of those informal, “water cooler” types of moments that we have all been living without for the past 6 months.  

I try to have a consistently stoic, optimistic view on life.  During the pandemic, that has sometimes meant that I push certain frustrations or disappointments into the back of my mind, and choose to focus instead on the blessings and opportunities that have presented themselves.  Generally speaking, it’s an outlook on life that serves me well.  But I realized during these two activities just how much I have missed socializing with colleagues and friends.  These were simple, relatively short moments – but they felt significant.  

Now I’ve retreated back into isolation for the rest of the work day.  While there is some ironic solace in that  I can take off my mask, it certainly doesn’t feel as good as being with the team.