It's OK to be Sad

It's OK to be sad.  It's OK to feel lonely. It's OK to be angry.  The Lord gives no injunctions against these emotions; he only says to "sin not."

When we don't acknowledge or even deny these emotions, and instead hyper-spiritualize a situation, we hinder God from being part of the reality of who we are.  When I encounter a situation that is sad, but tell myself that those emotions are some indication that I'm in some way outside of God's will and therefore his grace -- I deny him that unique and intimate place in my heart where he wants to dwell.

I'm learning, rather, to embrace these emotions and to invite my gracious and loving God right into the middle of them.

Take, for example, this pandemic situation.  I had been doing the "stiff upper lip" and "God's in control" thing for the past 6 weeks of distance learning.  As a teacher, it seemed like my workload (which was already quite significant) tripled as I revamped my entire curriculum for two schools to be in an online format instead of face-to-face.  Finding and correcting homework on my computer takes much more time than going through a pile of papers on my desk. I have been working hard and putting in more time in order to do well by my students, all the while ignoring the condition of my heart.

This morning I woke up feeling deeply sad.  Sad that I can't be with my adult children.  Sad that I can't be with my students.  Sad that so many are experiencing anxiety and stress and don't see hope.  Sad the the few places where people can connect have become places of contention.

So, I took a few moments to just sit and be sad.  And in that place, I was aware of the still small voice that said, "Now, this is real."  In that place of honest emotions, I acknowledged the presence of an honest God.  My emotions are not a hindrance but a place of meeting.  Sometimes, they are the "truest" place because they are more raw and unfiltered than my thoughts.

Yes, God's in control.  Yes, He has good plans.  But if I only view Him as the big God out there, I'll never encounter Him as the God of the Inside.  Yes, I believe that God is the wise and wonderful master strategist, but He's also the indwelling comforter.

Teaching from Home -- An Uncertain Adventure

Thoughts of a teacher during this coronavirus season ---

Once again, I can't sleep.  Not because I'm not tired -- in fact, I'm exhausted -- but because I have so many thoughts and emotions swirling around that it will take a while to quiet myself so that I can sleep.  What's keeping me up at night?  Not the state of the world, though it is pretty dire.  Nor concerns for my family's health and welfare because we're all good.  No, it's my job.

I'm a high school language arts teacher, and I've just finished my first week of teaching online.  Two weeks ago, the governor closed schools due to the COVID-19 outbreak for what was initially two weeks and, at this point, will probably be for the rest of the school year.  With a week's notice, all of us had to re-vamp our 4th quarter curriculum to be completely online.  And therein lies some of the trouble that is causing the sleepless nights.  We are fortunate at my school that we've used a number of web-based resources and many of us have used Google Classroom to one degree or another.  Going completely online, however, has presented multiple challenges:

• Learning to use a video conferencing platform.  One school where I teach is using Google Meet, and the other Zoom.  (Forgetting how one works because I've been using the other is a real struggle.)
• Determining what parts of my curriculum can be adapted to online learning, what parts need re-creating, and what parts should be eliminated all together requires a lot of strategic thinking and creativity, taxing an already tired brain.
• Choosing from the profusion of academic internet resources is daunting.  At what point do I continue the quest to find that snazzy website that would be perfect for my class or choose to stop, knowing that what I have so far will just have to be good enough?
• Planning thoroughly so that I can give students a clear-cut, straightforward plan for the rest of the quarter; this new online learning is going to be confusing, so a good plan should help all of us.
• Trying to come up with on-line lessons and learning opportunities that consider different learning modalities and abilities, varying home technology resources,  and differing degrees of confidence and abilities with technology.
• Communicating electronically results in an overflowing email inbox.  Video conferencing has to be succinct and efficient because we're squeezing them into short snippets of time due to a new schedule. 

The challenges listed above all deal with delivering my content and facilitating a quality learning experience for my students.  What I haven't been fully realizing were the tugs on my heart and the condition of my soul as a result of this sudden change from the classroom to a computer screen.  Tonight I realized how deeply I'm missing my students and my colleagues.  

I teach, not because I think my students won't have successful lives without a strong working knowledge of correct grammar and writing practices, but because I value personal connections with students who are reaching towards adulthood.  I work hard to get to know them and to communicate value -- and a great part of my communication with them are those informal conversations during the less structured times of the day.  I look them in the eyes; I pat them on the backs; I sit down at their desks.  I do whatever I can to connect.  A number of students I consciously carry in my heart -- students who concern me because of their school, family, or mental health challenges.  Students I often worry about.  When we're in the building, I can make those short connections that continue to let them know that I'm another adult who cares.  And that's just not going to happen in a 25-minute video conference call with 20 other people.  

I'm also missing my colleagues -- the teachers, paraprofessionals, and administrative staff who make my school an amazing place to work. Most days when I come into work, I usually walk through the open areas of the building to get a pulse on the mood and activity level of the school, and I often stop and "touch bases" with some of the other adults in the building.  These are men and women whom I value and respect and with whom I genuinely enjoy spending time.  They are not only exceptional educational  professionals, but also thoughtful and compassionate adults who care deeply about our community of learners.  Our 10 minute Google Meet check ins in the morning and afternoon don't come close to being satisfying connections.

In my preparations to revise my classes and become a competent online teacher, I was aware of a somewhat unconscious motivation to prove that, as an older teacher, I could do well with all of the technology.  But I hadn't realized that an underlying sadness was adding another degree of anxiety and stress. As I was putting my head on my pillow tonight, the realization that I was indeed missing my teacher friends and students brought tears to my eyes, which in turn brought some clarity to my struggle with this whole online teaching adventure.  

So if you think of teachers during this quarantine/shelter in place season, think kindly and with compassion.  They are reluctantly staying home, putting in extra hours, shouldering the responsibility of teaching children with unfamiliar resources, and missing the familiar companionship of their learning community.  Even though many teachers will present a confident and encouraging attitude, underneath they very well could be concerned about their own abilities, their students, and the outcomes of this uncertain adventure.