Browse Author by meggriswold
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No Flow

David, my math teacher husband, said something in a moment of desperation this week that really stuck with me. He had for the 17th time that day gotten distracted from a task. Because we’re all fried, I snapped at him. He answered in anguish, “Yes! I got distracted. I didn’t finish. I haven’t thought one continuous thought in 60 days!”

He’s right. As teachers working from home with 3 kids under age 9, we are constantly pulled away and interrupted. Our 3 year old always wants us to go to the bathroom with him. Our 8 year old needs the password to his Chromebook so he can log in to his class Zoom. Our 5 year old needs help reading the math workbook instructions. Repeat every 6.25 minutes from 7 am to 8 pm.

You know that scene in A Christmas Story where he says, “My mom had not had a hot meal for herself in 15 years”? Just as she’s about to put a bite in her mouth, Ralphie asks for something. Then the dad. Then the little brother. That woman cannot eat her food!

So, that’s our lives. We used to go to work outside of our house. We had morning time and free blocks. We could go get a few minutes of work time at lunch. We had an hour after school. We could put headphones in and plan a project or grade papers or tests. We could find flow.

Remember that Flow book? The subtitle is “The Psychology of Optimal Experience.” That almost makes me laugh. Working from home, parenting from home, and homeschooling should be subtitled, “The Psychology of SUB-Optimal Experience.” Except sub-optimal is not strong enough.

I need a book that studies the long term effect of the constant flow interruptions. I can tell you my hypothesis, based on observation. Being deprived of flow makes you irritable, tired, un-creative, and depressed.

It’s so hard to convince myself to sit down to read 22 short stories. I don’t know that I can make it through even one. If I get pulled away to peel an orange, then return, I’ve got to start again. But it’s frustrating because I will realize that I remember some of this and I’m losing time. I might even get pulled away again, maybe to wipe a butt, before I get to the end. And if I finish reading, but I have to litigate a fight over a stuffed animal before I write my feedback? I’ll have to read it again to remember what I was even going to say to that kid.

My in-laws came to stay with us and yesterday I was able to spend 3 straight hours grading and reading papers. It was amazing. Grading is challenging and draining and hard, but it felt good to get it done without being interrupted. There were two other adults to blow on the mac and cheese or take them outside for sidewalk chalk or peel open fruit cups.

Flow–that uninterrupted momentum–is so satisfying. Even if it’s flow while grading. It’s such a luxury. Such a gift. And I know it’s essential for most work, but it’s especially important for a teacher. I prefer to grade in a big push, where I can get the scope of the whole class’s work. I can sense trends, and see where my mini-lessons produced consistent growth in student work. When I look up after 3 hours, I have both the bird’s eye view and a fresh impression of each student’s work.

And the bonus was that those 3 hours of flow were in the middle of the day. Without help from my in-laws, my only uninterrupted blocks of time would be after 8 pm. I’m tired at the end of a crazy day. And there are dishes in the sink, laundry to be folded, floors to be mopped, bathrooms to be cleaned and floors to be vacuumed. David and I divide the work, and we’re usually done by 9 pm.

Even before this, I was not an evening person. My tank is empty. I want to do something relaxing, not something that requires too much decision making. I prefer to work during the hours of the school day. I tune in and get to work. I’ve been getting all grading done at school since I had kids and bringing home work became nearly impossible. So 9-11 pm is about the worst time for me to try to get into a flow state.

My in-laws are here until the end of next week. I will be using every moment I can. And when I can work out of my house again, in my quiet classroom, with my headphones on and my medieval chamber music going, I won’t even complain that I’m digging into a stack of research papers or argumentative essays. I’ll be grateful for the gift and privilege of flow.

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Seeking Creative Outlets

Teaching is exquisitely creative. I face challenges every day that require me to think on my feet, ponder, experiment, and try again. Even just coming up with multiple choice grammar questions is creative. I am trying to create something novel to solve a problem.

Just think about generating sample similes and metaphors and then guiding students through the same activity.

Consider this: I have to think of a way to respond to a question about why the suffragettes didn’t support black and native women in their fight for freedoms. What questions can I ask to students? What images or text could I show them to spark a discussion?

I write sample essays with my students, and I always write on a slightly different topic so as not to crowd their territory.

Or when a student is struggling with a piece of writing, I have to think of prompts or exercises that might shake their block and get them flowing.

Students who are disconnected or checked out? I’ve got to think of ways to connect, to draw them in.

All of that is so creative. Not to mention that I am “on stage” two or three times a day.

And now here we are. Weekends are spent planning the week out, but the creativity drops off after that. Zoom is not inspiring, the feedback from students is slow and disjointed. I don’t get the same zing of creation when I’m talking to 22 silent squares. I miss reading the room, taking a student suggestion and running with it into new territory I hadn’t planned.

I’m feeling the loss of creative challenge every day. I feel that creativity and creation is a basic tenet of who I am, and it makes teaching a good fit for me. So what am I doing now?

I started playing the mandolin more. I bought it on a trip to Brazil on a fellowship from my college in 2005. I played more when I was single and before I had kids. And while I’m not writing songs, the act of using my hands to make music is very fulfilling. I was hopping on Facebook live almost every evening.

Then my kids did a drawing tutorial on YouTube, and a watercolor tutorial autoplayed afterwards. I pulled out the kids’ watercolors and went to work.

(Jay Lee Painting YouTube channel is what I used to paint those.)

It felt awesome. I haven’t done watercolors since high school, and I wasn’t able to let go then (what high schooler is?). I didn’t realize this then, but watercolor is about letting go. You can’t micromanage it into perfection. You let the paint do what it’s going to do. You work fast and don’t stress over the last stroke as you go to the next. This was the mindset I needed.

I did probably 15 of Jay Lee’s videos. They are silent except for instrumental music playing in the background. I just watch him and follow what he does. I don’t feel competitive or judged. He’s not coaching me to death. I’m just mimicking and noticing. I don’t know why he did a certain thing until I’ve done it and realize it was genius. One drop here creates shadow. Mix a new color in with every stroke and it gives it depth and variety and looks more real.

I found a British lady (Painting with Nicola) I really liked, but she talked more. It was okay, though, since my confidence was growing.

(That watercolor is my favorite so far.)

Then I got one of those Domestika ads on Instagram. I could get 4 watercolor courses for $23. I’ve done enough of these that I felt like it was worth it. I need instruction. I want to move beyond mimicking, but I need to understand the concepts.

I started the first course last night. It felt so good. The woman teaching it is Mexican, and I grew up there and I’m fluent in Spanish, so I don’t need to read the subtitles. I realized that I miss the Mexican accent so much. So lush and musical.

I did such an academic thing in the introduction unit and made transparencies before I got called way to help with bedtime.

I’m waiting for my nicer watercolor paints to arrive. I can’t wait! I bought a nicer kid set at an art store here, but I did some research and found a high grade student set.

And I’m also writing more. I’ve been signing up for 10 page consultations with agents on Manuscript Academy. I’ve spent the last year and a half revising my Elizabeth historical novel. I’ve already had 2 consultations and made revisions. I know more are coming.

I’m also working on a new project. I’m filled with self-doubt at times, and swept away with the idea at others. It’s historical as well, so I’m researching now but itching to start drafting.

When am I doing this, you wonder? In stolen moments of quiet. Right now I’m writing this post as the kids draw with sidewalk chalk. I work while they watch TV. I work with them sometimes, in the case of the watercolor videos. I work at night until I can’t keep my eyes open anymore. It’s never enough, but no one has enough. You have to steal time. No one is given time. There is a great book called The Right to Write and she has little vignettes about being a writer. One is called “The Time Myth” (I think that’s the title, it’s been a while) and she says that everyone has to steal time. Don’t wait for time because you’ll die waiting. The myth is that you’ll do ____ when you have the time. You’ll never have the time–you steal it.

Okay, this was written in haste, so forgive dead end thoughts and typos. I’d love to hear about what you are doing to bring some creativity into your life.

Teaching

Nothing Works and I Hate Everything

This has not been a great week of distance learning. Zoom keeps crashing, I can’t share audio when I’m sharing my screen, I can’t get any grading done, and I just hate it all.

Yes, I’m being extreme. Yes, it could be worse. Yes, I’m still annoyed and frustrated and tired and I can be all of that at the same time.

I almost lost my mind yesterday. I spend all of Sunday making a weekly slide that is embedded on my Powerschool page. I have the whole week laid out. Links to videos and documents, links to flipgrids, links to the Zoom call.

Students in 6th grade, for example, are writing a compare/contrast essay about the books we read this year. I made a document explaining the essay and with an outline of what needed to be in each paragraph. Underneath the outline is a sample essay that I wrote.

But wait, there’s more! I made a video where I walked through the outline, then read my essay sample, pointing out key things.

And then, in my Google chat pops this message: What is the second paragraph supposed to be about?

I’m about to go Office Space on my computer.

But then, I felt better when students said in my class today that my weekly slides are so organized and helpful and everything is right there. One student wrote in the chat, one word at a time: I. LOVE. THE. DAILY. SLIDES.

It isn’t all bad. But until I get purposeful messages like that from students, there’s not feedback! There’s no room to read, no heads nodding or kids falling asleep.

David and I keep saying that we’re shouting into the void. No idea if any of it is helpful or heard. It’s so demoralizing. Teaching is hard, but it’s also so rewarding when it clicks. When our teaching works, the relationship and moment of connection with students is so amazing.

So, here we are. There are no other choices. The whole world is like this. That’s almost worse. The feeling of being stuck is so loud.

Man, I feel like I’m in my 20s again, unsatisfied and unhappy and trying to find myself. I just want my job back. I know what I love to do. I know what makes me feel stimulated and happy. It’s so sucky and unfair. I want my job back.

Teaching, Travel

A Change of Scenery

I haven’t written in a while because life is absolutely batty, which I don’t even really need to say, I guess because we are all living it. It’s weird. Normally, you’d have to compose a blog post or a social media post about going through some stuff, and sorry that I’m absent. Ha. No explanation needed. We all understand.

But, I wanted to give you an update on our lives. I’m going to start doing some more blogging about my teaching and things I’m doing to survive my teaching. But first, a personal update.

Our school works with a team of filmmakers and they asked me if I would be interested in working with them. They dropped off tripods and steady cams and an iPhone at our apartment. We spent about a week documenting what our life was like, teaching online and raising 3 kids. The film team, The Filmistas, edited it into this amazing final product:

I got so many amazing messages from parents, students, and other teachers. I basically cried every time a message came in. Every time I watch the video I cry. I cry a lot.

About a week and a half ago, we got the call that our school would not be reopening during this school year. David and I had been talking about next steps. It’s so hard to know what next week will bring and how I will feel about it. There are about 100 scenarios of what might play out, and I’m never sure how I’m going to feel.

We happened to have the May Day holiday coming up, which gave us a 3 day weekend to travel. We got yelled at by doormen for letting our kids play in the sand below the roped off playgrounds in our condominium. We both realized it was time to go.

I felt some guilt about leaving. Staying was a point of pride at first. Maybe I shouldn’t have felt pride at staying, but I did. Deciding then to leave felt a bit like abandoning ship.

But my admin was really supportive. They understood and they knew that we needed to do what was right for us. That gave me some peace. Just the idea of being somewhere different suddenly sounded amazing.

We have a key factor in place for us to leave: a place to stay. We have a townhouse in Minnesota that technically belongs to my in laws, but we’ve made it ours for the summers. We spent nearly 3 weeks here last year, and we put bunkbeds in it, beefed up the kitchen stuff, stocked it with art supplies.

So now we are hunkered down in Northfield, Minnesota, an incredibly cute and cool college town. It’s small, it’s quiet, and there’s lots of open space. There are only 2 cases of COVID here as of my last reading, and the governor is making thoughtful, careful decisions–in my opinion, at least.

Brazil is also getting bad. The cases are rising, the deaths are rising. More scary to me is the number of people facing starvation because of the shut-down economy. The government is not providing significant support. There is a quarantine in place, where only essential businesses were supposed to be open, but right before we left, we noticed lots of businesses on the street open.

I don’t want to get into a whole big debate, but let me tell you where I always go first: the children. Bear with me while I explain. When you shut down all retail–all malls, bars, restaurants, stores, etc–that is a huge segment of the Brazilian population. They live hand to mouth. And they have children. What happens when the money and the food run out? If you want to keep the economy closed, then the government has to feed those kids. I don’t see that happening. (To be clear, I am not minimizing the death toll. I am just afraid of those other deaths, the children facing malnutrition.)

Okay, so, on Friday night, May 1, we flew out. We snagged a cheap upgrade to business class and jumped on it. Business class was full, but the seats are very separated. In coach, there were empty rows between passengers. The airports were ghost towns. There were maybe 40 people on our international flight, and 20 on our domestic flight.

As soon as we rented our car and got the house, our kids hopped on the bikes in the garage and went around the block. We walked to a playground that wasn’t roped off with caution tape. I almost cried watching them play.

I have more to say and more stories to tell, but I’ve got to go teach my 7th grade class via Zoom.

Signing off from the prairie,

Meg

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Cutting my own hair

Yes. I am going to cut my own hair.

Let me back up. I read this article in the New York Times about stylist Jayne Matthews. It was fun and interesting. I followed her on Instagram. I found myself pining for a haircut like this. Funky, fun, playful. I have wavy hair and she talks about helping girls with thin wavy hair shape it, reduce frizz, frame the face. This is what I need! I love her ethos about wash and wear and respecting a hair’s natural style.

I haven’t had a haircut I like in Brazil yet. I’m busy, I don’t live in the hip neighborhood, and the list of excuses goes on. Right before quarantine, I got the name of someone, but that obviously never happened. In general, I find that the assumption in Brazil is blowouts or serious levels of work each morning. Ha. That’s not me. 3 kids, a teaching job that start at 8:00. Nope. I’ve had a hard time finding someone who understood my personality and my desires. Not that they don’t exist, I just hadn’t found yet.

Cut to a few weeks ago. Jayne announces she’s doing video call haircut and bang trim tutorials. I knew right away I wanted to do it. I ordered the feather razor she recommends and a nice comb. I booked a slot. I am going to be video coached through cutting my own hair.

I probably wouldn’t have done this before quarantine. But no one really sees me, I have nothing to lose, and this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. I don’t think stylists really offered video call self-haircut tutorials before this. Let’s hope this opportunity never presents itself again! So, here we go. I will video it and take before and after photos, of course. I feel positive and confident. I’ve gotten into such a rut with my hair. I just whip it into a ponytail and make videos. I’m bored. I’m tired of having long hair just so I can pull it into a ponytail.

I also need some diversion. This feels like an authentically real experience and I haven’t had many of those in a few weeks. Honestly, if you asked me about the past few weeks, what I remember is playing the mandolin more, teaching Matilda to ride a bike, and this! This has given me energy and hope. I seriously can’t wait.

I will write a post in the coming days with the results. In the meantime, I hope you all find something exhilarating to look forward to. What do you have to lose? The bigger question is, did you ever have something to lose?

Before photos:

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My First Coronavirus Cry

I wasn’t sure what would crack me, but it was hot water.

Let me back up. Yesterday, as we were running the kids’ bath, the hot water shut off. We had enough for their bath, but we spent the evening playing around with the water heater. E4 was on the panel, which a Google search revealed meant faulty sensors. More searching hinted that that meant some major repairs were needed.

We had what looked like two leaky toilets, and one that was also leaking from the bottom–ew. Now we had a broken water heater. Oh, and there are dry wood termites in one bathroom cabinet. In the new apartment we moved into 10 days ago. During the coronavirus lock down.

I seriously started to plan in my head for having to boil water to make hot baths. We put in a maintenance request with our school’s HR who helps with these kinds of things. But my hopes were low. Who would be willing to come do the service? Should I break some social distancing rules for this?

Right away this morning, I got an email from the woman in HR who mainly handles issues like this for foreign hires. She was sending over the maintenance man from school. She asked me to take a picture of the water heater, and then I was bummed to learn their technician doesn’t fix that brand.

But, the school handyman was coming, and he would at least take a look. He is the nicest, most versatile guy on the planet. He can fix anything, like an angel with a multi-tool. He came over and I walked him through the leaking toilets. Turns out that it’s probably just bad plaster work, and not active leaks. He said he would try to tighten the toilet to the floor to prevent that leaking. He took a look at the termites and said that probably the best idea was a new cabinet. As for the water heater, he messaged a friend who knows the brand. The friend messaged back that the electrical panel needed to be replaced.

My worry was growing, but I didn’t really notice it. How can you notice one worry among so many right now? But I got a text an hour later from HR that she was going to contact the real estate company that worked with the landlady. It would obviously be their job to fix the water heater.

Then another text that a technician was coming at 2 pm! He arrived early and traded out the panel. Voila, hot water! He told me to go to the bathroom and turn the shower on full blast hot to check it. It was so hot and steamy. I will confess I have not had a shower in at least 2 days. As steam filled the room, I started crying.

This is such a hard time. I feel so lucky to have a job, to have an HR team to support me, colleagues to video call with, technicians willing to come in and let me give them a wide berth. I didn’t realize how much this was all building up.

I sat down at my desk, and I heard Calvin in the next room having a Zoom call with his teacher. “Distance learning is now fun. I miss school so much,” he said. Then I started crying more. Oh man. I’m grateful for everything we have to help us, but I wish this wasn’t happening.

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To be of use

I love the Marge Piercy poem “To Be of Use”

In all of this lockdown quarantine life, I am left feeling stir crazy. I am busy. I channel my energy, which is very high, into work. It’s why I love teaching. My energy is called on. Long ago when we were still in school (has it been a week? two? a millenia?) someone saw me at the photocopier at 7:57 and said, “Whoa, you have way too much energy for before 8 am.”

I’d been up since 5 am that day. Making hay while the sun shines–figuratively because it was dark in my apartment as I did some creative work of my own in the silence of my apartment.

That’s just me. That’s who I am. My 9th grade history teacher, a pretty wretched woman if you ask me, kept asking me all year if I’d been “tested.” Wink, wink. ADD. Hyperactive. I do not have ADHD, I am just wired to burn one click below a supernova. I exaggerate.

So, I chose a profession that keeps me busy, that wants and needs and appreciates my 8 am energy.

Being a work-at-home homeschooler is NOT what I was built for. I need to be doing stuff, and not just banging away at my keyboard. I need to be moving, creating, interacting.

So, when I got a frantic text from an American friend in her condo that they were being flown back and had 3 hours to pack, I switched on. Instead of my energy being sent as rage at the throw pillows that my kids keep throwing on the floors, or the dirty socks they hide behind furniture, I could do something. I went straight to her apartment and asked how I could help. Sometimes people say they don’t need help and you aren’t sure what to do. But there were real things I could do.

In addition to adopting Chester the bunny, I started taking pictures of all her furniture. She had hoped to have time to post things and sell them. Now, she was packing a few suitcases and leaving it all behind.

I started a list. I pulled things out of closets and piled things up. We cleaned out kitchen cabinets. We stacked up library books that needed to be returned.

Here was a way to be of use. To move stuff, to think, to move, to talk. I made a spreadsheet, set prices. I sent out items. I helped friends carry their purchased furniture to their apartments. We bagged up garbage and recycling. We bagged up clothing donations.

There are many hard things about social distancing, lock down, quarantine. One of the hardest is not being able to venture out into the world and move stuff and make myself useful. It doesn’t feel the same to send a kid a video or type a comment, as when I sit next to them with their writing and provide feedback. It’s not the same to answer an email as it is to point at a raised hand.

I considered being a doctor in college. Took all my premed classes during the first year. I think about the parallel life where I was a doctor now. Now that would give me a sense of usefulness. And it doesn’t scare me to imagine working in healthcare right now. I think I’d savor it.

So what happens after that is done? Should I ask the gardeners if I can help mow the lawn? Paint our bedrooms? I need to find tiny ways to be useful, to move things forward in some way, in some tangible, physical way.

[Y’all, I’m wiped out. I just made 2 videos and updated links and made Flipgrids, so I had no time to even re-read this. Forgive any typos or thoughts that went a-wandering.]

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Fish or cut bait

A coworker and friend used the “s*** or get off the pot” metaphor to think about our current situation. The State department sent out an email to Americans living abroad. The message was that you should not do any optional travel, but you should hunker down where you are or return to the US. There’s talk that the borders might get sealed.

Families were left with a choice. We can still do our online teaching as long as we have internet, but some are choosing to do this from the US.

It’s such an uncertain time and I’m asking questions every day that I’d never considered. My instinct kept telling me to stay. We have an apartment, a community. We live in a beautiful condo complex with wide open spaces for outdoor play and a trail for hiking and pretending we live in the Atlantic rainforest.

In the US, we’d have to crash with family or go to the condo we use in Minnesota, but we’d have to rent a car and figure life out there. We have family, but no friends. Where will things be worse. Brazil is still under 1000 cases (probably not for long) but the US (as I write this) is at 21,000+ cases. So, right now, it’s better here. Where is it better? I don’t know. No one can know.

And what does this mean for our home leave next summer? Great question. No one knows. We have plane tickets to the US in June. Will we be on that plane? I don’t know. There’s a scenario where we don’t leave Brazil this June/July.

We are choosing to fish instead of cut bait.

It’s okay. I’m feeling okay with that gamble. I have a family that is healthy. I have a job. We are okay. And, for whatever reason, here feels better. There’s a sense of solidarity. I can’t really explain it. About half the teacher families left, about half stayed. I think and hope we will all be okay.

We are staying.

Am I overwhelmed. Hell f-ing yes. I keep asking what happens when starvation spreads through Brazil and the US. When all of the hourly workers living paycheck to paycheck now have no paycheck and no food. Seriously, what happens to all those kids?

I know that I speak for a lot of educators when I tell you that we are all thinking about the kids. We give kids a safe place with food every day. When we are closed…what then, for them? Consider that seriously.

I think of those photos of the Great Depression. 25% unemployment. Families abandoning children because they couldn’t feed them. Those stories haunt me.

I also really love our life and I’m clinging to it. I want to hold on to all this as much as I can. Not that people who left don’t. I know that we all have our situations–newborn babies, elderly parents, social isolation.

I’m grateful for David and these three crazy kids, because at least we have each other. If I was alone in NYC like I was in my first year of teaching, this would be a really hard time. I’m grateful for this crazy big family of mine.

I just want the time machine so I can jump ahead 3 months, see that everything is okay and come back. We keep facing situations every day that we didn’t see coming the day before.

A family in our condo who aren’t teachers but sent their kids to Graded got the call that they were flying home tonight. They had 4 hours to pack. That’s it. They have an apartment full of furniture and belongings, and they had to pack whatever they could fit.

And they have a bunny. Chester. Matilda is obsessed with Chester. So, when the message went out that they needed to find a home for the bunny, I looked at David. We were thinking the same thing. We will take that bunny.

Meet Chester.

Teaching

Day 1 of Online Learning

Oh my god. I’m exhausted. But! I had 100% attendance. Every kid showed up to my Zoom meetings. They participated in the Flipgrid and Padlet activities. We survived.

That’s only half the story, though. I had 3 kids in my apartment who wanted snacks and games and butt wipes. David and I have 3 common periods where we both had to be “teaching.” That about pushed me to the edge. Our whole home life needs to be revamped. Routines, organization, schedules. Ish is about to get REAL. I lost my temper too many times today.

We started with daily chore breaks in the day and that has to get formalized.

We need a snack drawer they can access on their ownw.

We have to make a schedule for each kid each day because they have their own Zoom class meetings and one-on-one check ins.

We need 4 offices, one for David and I, one for Calvin, another for Matilda. We can hear each other and our microphones pick all the noise up.

Our wifi doesn’t reach everywhere (see previous paragraph). So, I spent most of the day in kitchen.

We did not build in enough move breaks.

I have officially lost my planning and preparation periods. Those are now filled with cooking, cleaning, snacking and butt wiping. This perhaps sucks the most. There is no quiet period at my desk getting work done. Not unless I let the kids watch TV all day. I had two kids in two rooms doing two different math activities. That was one of my free periods today.

The win of today was that the kids had 1 hour of screen time in the afternoon. Everett had a book reading to him during the period when David and I both taught. It reads and turns the pages. Calvin did lunchtime doodles with Mo Willems.

I’m totally spent. I’m both relieved I survived and stressed for tomorrow and the future of this. I am every emotion at once. People have been so nice today to ask if there’s any way to help or anything they can do. Do they want to come and parent my kids? Teach all my classes? No? Well, I guess I’ll just have to do it all better and more efficiently. [Lays face on keyboard.]

My workspace in the kitchen. That’s a Zoom call with my advisees.
This was the rough schedule we made today. It was not enough! We weren’t able to totally stick to it and it wasn’t specific enough. But the paper calendar with check boxes was a good idea. We just need more specific times and planning.
This Pete the Cat book was reading to Everett and turning the pages.
Lunch Doodles with Mo Willems

Teaching

Going Virtual: Using a “Greenlight Spreadsheet” to Reimagine My Journalism Elective

I’m taking a Global Online Academy (GOA) course called “Designing for Online Learning,” and the second Module was about student wayfinding. How do students and teachers find their way through online course content and projects? How can we help students find the content they need and how can we track their progress?

This GOA article offers some ideas for how students navigate through the content. One cool one was about “Greenlight Spreadsheets“. (Search for those words, that part comes late in the post.)

I made a video about how I’m adapting my physical tracking chart for my middle school journalists to a greenlight spreadsheet.

Here is what my tracking chart normally looks like:

Here is my new greenlight spreadsheet: