John 13:12-15
It was only back in February, but it feels like a lifetime ago. After enjoying our Shrove Tuesday pancakes, Danny Garrigan-Byerly and I chatted in Edwards Hall. He told me about his work as a Science and Engineering Instructional Coach for elementary schools in Sudbury. That day, for a lesson, he had partnered with folks from the Innovation and Sustainability department of Avery/Dennison, who had brought 80 pounds of old clothes and dumped them on the classroom floor. With that striking visual, the kids learned that Americans discard an average of 80 pounds of clothing a year. They learned about the mix of fibers in our modern-day fabrics and why they are so hard to recycle. I wasn’t even there for the lesson and I remember it; I am certain those kids will never forget.
As Danny described his day, I watched his face light up. Clearly, he loves science, he loves teaching, and he loves finding creative hands-on ways to make the subject come alive.
I was curious to talk with him this week about teaching science in the time of COVID-19. As I expected, it has been difficult. He is accustomed to being in the classroom, supporting teachers with their science lessons and sometimes teaching himself. Now, he is primarily focused on curriculum, working with a team, including technology specialists, to create meaningful learning experiences while kids are at home.
“I hate the term ‘remote learning,’” he said. “It is so stark. I also hate the term ‘on-line learning.’ On-line is a tool, but the learning is not on-line.”
The frustrations are very real. Danny can create lessons that encourage students to use ordinary household items for science experiments–but not every child can find vinegar and rubber bands in their home. He snuck into school to get incubators and chicks and brought them to a kindergarten teacher. She keeps them in her living room, making videos for her class. It’s a poor substitute for the “magic,” as Danny describes it, that happens when kids can see or do something themselves.
There are moments when the magic breaks through. Danny told me about an a parent who sent a picture of a kid checking his dog’s heartbeat with his homemade stethoscope. “I could see the joy on his face,” Danny said. “That’s the interaction we haven’t been getting lately.”
Danny also sees how some kids are thriving with a different model of learning. “School isn’t designed for introverts,” he said. “In the school setting, there’s an expectation to be a public speaker, while taking on a new subject and negotiating a whole lot of social expectations.” Without that pressure, and with the ability to work at their own pace, some kids are shining in new ways.
Danny has also experienced a positive shift in energy. “At first, the crisis and exhaustion led to animosity and resentment. That dissolved pretty quickly and the other side is springing up.” He sees hope in the humor emerging among his colleagues. “The joy of teaching was stripped away when we were left with the nuts and bolts; now we are seeing some of the humor and joy come back. We have gotten over the hump and are starting to care for each other.”
***
If it’s hard to picture teaching hands-on science to elementary students on-line, imagine trying to teach middle-school drama remotely. Kelly Lopez summed it up: “It’s a bummer.” She described her work pre-COVID-19: “I get together with people and play and have them interact with each other. My whole life is making connections.” Now, she meets with each class for twenty minutes a week and sends them assignments to complete. The meeting is more of a check-in, she said, trying to make sure the kids are okay.
Some kids don’t show up. They are overwhelmed and can’t organize their lives without the structure of school. Others come but don’t do the assignments. One of Kelly’s most frustrating experiences is when she is trying to engage the kids during that twenty-minute time, but they have their avatars on and their mic’s muted. “I’m trying to have fun and inspire them,” she said. “There are days when I get nothing back. It’s like playing handball without the wall.”
Amidst the frustration, Kelly has found moments of light. She told me about one class meeting in which they were playing “Tiger, Cow, Alien,” a twist on “Rock, Paper, Scissors.” There are no winners and losers in this game; the goal is to get the whole group in synch. As they were playing, Kelly noticed that one girl’s younger sister came onto the screen. By the time the meeting was over, two more little sisters had arrived. As the other students signed off, Kelly taught the game to the whole family. “It was delightful,” she said, “to be able to accept what’s there.”
She has also discovered new ways to make connections. The kids do journaling, which gives her the opportunity to write back to each of them. “Hopefully, we can do that in the future too,” she said. “It’s a really different way and a really personal way to validate them for who they are.”
Kelly is energized by the challenge to draw upon her creativity and problem-solving skills. “I try to think about what I can have them do that will brighten their day.”
***
Heather Gonzalez teaches Spanish to 8th and 11th graders in Medfield. She chose to become a teacher because she loves being with kids. “My favorite part of the job,” she said, “is what I’m missing…. There hasn’t been that feeling of being together.”
She finds it especially challenging to connect with her middle school students via Zoom. “Eighth-graders are hyper-self-conscious,” she explained. “Even to be seen on screen is daunting, so most are hesitant to interact.”
Heather told me about a particularly painful moment–a Zoom meeting with an 8th grade class moments after the governor announced schools would remain closed. “They looked so sad,” she said.
For Heather, the first few weeks were the hardest. “I buried myself in work,” she said, “creating activities, tracking assignments, dealing with administration. It was depressing and overwhelming.” Her energy shifted when she began to focus on the kids. She started sending out positive emails to students and their parents when they made a special effort. “They were so grateful for the feedback,” she said. It was a powerful reminder of the importance of recognizing and appreciating her students.
Heather gave her 11th graders an assignment to write–in Spanish, of course–about what they are learning in this time. “It was profound,” she said. “They are learning the importance of routines and organizing their time–taking care of themselves physically, eating well, sleeping. That’s a big deal for teenagers to learn. They are reflecting on who their real friends are, rather than the people they are trying to impress. They are learning who the helpers are and admiring the people who choose to step up in a crisis. I know kids are doing important learning,” she concluded. “I wonder how their generation will be shaped by this time.”
Heather’s hope is that, out of this time, we can find ways to give teens more opportunities to wrestle with what is happening in the world. “We need their creativity and energy,” she said.
***
All four teachers are grieving the loss of connection with their students. For Patti Arnheim, that loss is dramatic. As a teaching assistant at Loker Elementary School in Wayland, Patti typically spends six hours a day, five days a week with a group of 20 kids. While she works with all of them in reading and math groups, she focuses particular attention on one girl with autism. We’ll call her Grace.
The sudden shift from thirty hours of in-person contact to a few hours of screen interaction is jarring. Patti especially misses the in-between times, when she can talk informally with the kids.
A big part of Patti’s work is helping Grace have a positive experience of school. Patti has worked with her to develop strategies for when she is frustrated or overwhelmed. One of the hardest moments Patti experienced was during a recent classroom Zoom meeting. She could see that Grace was frustrated with her mom–but there was nothing Patti could do to help.
Patti has experienced moments of joy in spite of the obstacles. As part of a classroom chain letter project, Patti sent snail-mail notes to each of the kids. She recently got some back. It made her day. “I miss them so much,” she said, “and I know they spent time drawing a picture for me.”
Patti came down to Wayland one day to sneak into the school. She knew how much Grace loved working with a phonics magnet board. Patti got the board, with all the magnets, and brought it to Grace’s home. “It was like Christmas Day,” Patti said. “She got so excited….I wish I could have done that for all twenty kids.”
Attentiveness to the needs of individual children is part of the culture of Loker School. When Patti realized that Grace needed a different kind of reward, she reached out to the principal, who put on his Loker Lion costume and made a video just for Grace.
Patti is doing what she can to seize the opportunities that emerge between the cracks. Grace loves arts and crafts. Now, when it’s math time and they are learning about groups of 10, she encourages Grace to do her work with sidewalk chalk or acorns or pinecones.
At school, there is a “sensory path,” which gives kids an opportunity to jump and make noise and be in their bodies. Patti challenged Grace to use chalk to make a sensory path on her driveway for her little brother, encouraging her to take responsibility. When it rained and the path washed away, it became an opportunity to learn flexibility. Patti urged Grace to make a new path. Responsibility, flexibility and groups of ten, all with sidewalk chalk, a little creativity, and a lot of caring.
***
For the third week in a row, I am in awe of our congregation. I am in awe of these four teachers–their creativity, wisdom and perseverance in an overwhelming time. Most of all, I am in awe of their deep love of learning and their even deeper love for their students. In this time when there are so many big constraints, they are claiming the power of small acts to bring comfort and joy. A silly meme sent out to colleagues that lifts lagging spirits. An email to a hard-working student who needs to know his work matters. A note in the margins of a 7th-grader’s journal that validates her experience. A magnet board hand-delivered. These seemingly small expressions of caring may well teach the most important lessons.
Our gospel reading is about a seemingly small expression of caring. Jesus was a brilliant teacher. He taught with words–inspiring speeches, puzzling parables, incisive arguments. Even more, he taught through hands-on activities–feeding thousands, touching a leper, eating with a tax collector. Many of his lessons were grand gestures, miracles witness by thousands. In this story, though, there is nothing miraculous, nothing grand, and no adoring crowd. There is only a simple act of caring–an act that taught the disciples the most important lesson they could learn about the realm of God’s love. God’s realm breaks in when we serve one another, when we slow down and pay attention to another’s needs, when we express our caring through our actions. God’s realm breaks in when teachers support each other, when a principal dresses up like a lion, when a student is challenged to reflect on his learnings, when little sisters are included in the game.
Whatever your profession or background, however you are spending your “safer at home” days, I invite you to be inspired by Jesus the teacher, and by the teachers in your midst. There are many big things we cannot do right now. Use your creativity to find the small ways you can convey your caring: a card, a call, a plant left on a doorstep, a mask delivered, a book discussed, a prayer lifted up. God works through our smallest acts to bring comfort and joy, healing and hope. Thanks be to God. Amen.