Tag: teaching

Restoring Justis Part 2

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The title of the blog is clearly word play. Part One of why I chose this title talks about the irony of the name.

There’s another reason I chose it. I am trying to restore my family. And I am trying to restore myself. Yes, I married into the name, Justis. When the kids were little, we did a little geo-caching and whenever we scored a find, we’d sign as The Justis League. When I was a teacher, I’d always introduce myself to my second grade class with a cape on, throwing my fists into the air, and singing out, “Mrs. Justiiiis!”

Teaching really took it out of me. There was little patience left over for my family after those 9-10 hour days of performing for 7-8 year olds then scrambling to be ready for the next day of non-stop classroom management, trying to inspire kiddos whose bodies were screaming at them to play to sit through lessons instead. Okay, I didn’t require a lot of sitting because instinctually I knew it was ineffective, but we were still pretty confined to the four walls of a classroom, a lame “learning” environment that requires intense creativity on a teacher’s part to keep kids engaged.

When I worked up the courage to walk away from the classroom in spring of 2014, I spent the next few years trying to be an entrepreneur which meant lots of personal development. Over that same period, I really examined my thoughts on the classroom and education in general, and came to many of the conclusions I share in this blog. Once I started looking for resources to back up my suspicions, I realized I was far from alone in my contempt for the system.

The years flew by quickly and my oldest entered middle school. And things started falling apart. My family felt like it was coming unraveled and the bonds continued to fray in her 7th, then her 8th grade years as her resistance to school grew and my husband and I argued over the wisdom of forcing it. My son had never thrived in the classroom and he was concurrently developing awareness of the mismatch of his nature and the system he was trapped in. Around this time, it also occurred to me that my influence as a mother had waned; that my rant against the mainstream wasn’t falling on deaf ears, but bored, apathetic, or skeptical ears. Yet, here was evidence in my own children of the damage the system wreaks on their confidence and their love of learning.

I had thought I was creating a strong family culture, but suddenly it was painfully clear that we were not the tight knit family I always thought we’d naturally be. My husband and I seemed to be operating from completely different paradigms and our differences were taking a toll on our relationships with each other and the kids. Some intense situations (that I cannot share yet due to lack of consent from my loved ones) brought excruciating awareness that it was going to take far more conscious effort to hold onto my kids. Figuratively, of course. To do so literally would actually push them away.

Restoring Justis became my mission. To help my family back to authenticity, to restore what a family is meant to be—a place of safety and trust where one is free to explore possibilities, to be unconditionally loved through failures, and recovery is modeled with grace and dignity. Okay, maybe that’s a bit idealistic, but it’s the dream, right?

It’s a daily challenge, and I often feel at a complete loss as to how to restore that influence. The book, Hold on to Your Kids, helped me forgive myself a bit. It talks about how society is structured in such a way that it damages what should be our children’s natural attachment to us as their mentors, making it much more difficult to parent than it should be. I also believe that our culture of control and coercion, plus the requirement that we turn over their caretaking to the school system for such a huge chunk of their childhood, weakens the bonds nature intended human young to have with their parents.

So, I try to express gratitude to the universe daily for my children whose purpose it sometimes seems is to challenge every hard-earned tenet of my personal philosophy, to ensure that I walk my talk, to obliterate my ego and force the utmost consciousness of every word I speak, every action I take. I get lots of opportunity to model making mistakes and then taking responsibility for them.

I do believe that parenting is supposed to be pleasurable, and that when done as nature intended, it wouldn’t feel so hard, but I’m making up for too many years of unconsciousness, of lazy parenting. I didn’t think I was being lazy, I just thought I had more time. Things can feel pretty precarious these days; Restoring Justis means tightening the bonds that hold my family together. And it means everything to me.

Imposter Syndrome: My Story, Part Two

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I was one of the original teachers at that shiny new International Baccalaureate charter. The school became a quick success despite the ongoing tension in the culture, and it grew much faster than originally planned. Year two, they added an additional class for each grade that only had one the first year, including second grade. My good friend, another OG, became my second grade teaching partner and we worked exceptionally well together, designing a really fun Programme of Inquiry for our 7-8 year old students. She was a gifted educator and I was so lucky to get to work with and learn from her.

Despite getting to collaborate with one of my best friends, being in philosophical alignment with the school model (at the time and on the surface anyway,) being recognized by many of my families and students as their “favorite” teacher, being well-liked by my immediate administrator (the ED was a nightmare. I could have a whole separate blog about the abuse the faculty endured under his leadership,) and being chosen to be on the team that researched, developed, and delivered professional development for the faculty, I managed to find intermittent enthusiasm but mostly I was a miserable wreck who was neglecting her family.

I was always depleted at the end of my 10-11 hour days of “performing” for children who, for the most part, had already lost interest in “learning.” This was also the 5th job in a row that I was certain I was underqualified for. Remember, I didn’t have a teaching degree, just that stupid test that said I knew what I was doing. I had chronic imposter syndrome.

Rather than recognizing that I must present as capable and intelligent to pull off these longshot hires, I would beat myself up for not being a “legitimate” expert in my field since I hadn’t completed the required education for any position in this string of employment: wilderness therapy instructor (a clue- and degree-less city girl,) field medic (remember the EMT test? I did the rushed version—two weeks instead of a full semester—of that training also) speech language pathologist (ha! I was SO underqualified for this one, it was considered unethical,) then two elementary teaching positions (just those stupid tests for the latter.)

In each of these positions I’d received recognition for excelling, but I still blamed my lack of qualifications for my chronic stress. Cortisol was my constant companion. I was always seeking to better “educate” myself and worked stupid long hours so I could feel like I was worthy of the meager paychecks these jobs paid. I still have to laugh ironically about how I left a cushy credit union job with excellent benefits because I was seeking “more meaningful work,” only to take on far too much student loan debt (that continues to haunt me) for an exhausting career that paid less than what I was making at the financial institution.  

Midway through year four, as the level of stress crescendoed at the charter school along with my sense of impotence to improve my working conditions, my mother asked a pivotal question on the phone one day in response to my chronic complaints, “What would you do if you were to leave teaching?” I spent that night into the wee morning hours researching this very question. Joel Hammon, in his TED talk on liberating teachers, jokes about his own online search for “What kinds of jobs are there for teachers who hate teaching?”

My search turned up life/executive coaching among other things. I signed up for an online certification course that I couldn’t afford (and would be another “alternate route” to expertise—seems I never learn!,) decided I was starting my own coaching business, and let the school know I wouldn’t be renewing my contract for the fall. What I couldn’t have articulated at the time was the real reasons I had to leave the teaching profession. I claimed too much self-respect to tolerate a persistent toxic environment as my reason, and while I’m certain and extremely grateful that expedited my departure, it was really that square box that would never accommodate my not-square nature that I was running from.

I have so much more to say about that box—if you’ve been following my blog, you probably know I’m just getting started. Oh, the reprogramming, self-worth stealing box that we call school…   

Word Play

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So I asserted yesterday that school “teaches children that learning is work, work is not fun, and play is frivolous “

There’s a ton to unpack in that statement, and this post won’t get all the way to the heart of it, but I thought we’d begin exploring this one by really examining those key words, “work”, “learning”, and “play” and their connotations, and how those connotations shape our lives.

Let’s start with the word “work.” How does that word make you feel? Does it feel heavy or light? Do you associate creativity or drudgery with the noun, “work”? Is work ever fun? When I Google “work”, I get these definitions:

“a task or tasks to be undertaken; something a person or thing has to do.”

“activity involving mental or physical effort done in order to achieve a purpose or result.”

Even those two definitions feel very different to me. Which feels lighter to you? Lens matters, and the language we use shapes that lens, don’t you think? When I think of something I have to do, it tends to feel heavy. But if I am doing something that involves effort to achieve a purpose, that seems meaningful and can be really energizing—this feels very different to me than the first definition. I do think for the majority of us, “work” has become those things we have to do. In fact, one of the listed synonyms is “drudgery.”

Has school played a role in shaping our culture this way? I think it would be hard to argue otherwise. Though if we chicken and egg this, did school come after culture or the other way around? We’ll eventually examine how school’s primary purpose is to indoctrinate culture.

What about the word, “learning”? Does that word make you think of classrooms and teachers? Does it inspire you or make you tired? Does how it makes you feel depend on the reason you’re learning something new—like whether you’re being forced to learn something for your job, something you have to learn vs. something you’re really interested in and choosing to learn?

The noun, “learning” is defined as:

“the acquisition of knowledge or skills through experience, study, or by being taught”

Let’s unpack that one a bit! How different does it feel to acquire a new skill through experience vs. being taught? Which is more efficient? One might say being taught is more efficient than learning on one’s own, through trial-and-error, but then which is more effective and enduring? And by this definition, if learning comes from experience, is it happening all the time? When are you not learning? Does this challenge our cultural idea that learning only happens at school or when we’re being taught by another or studying something?

And the word, “play”? Does this word conjure up images of creative endeavors such as knitting a scarf? Writing a song? Making dinner? Maybe “play” to you is more active like riding a bike or participating in a team sport? Or do you think of watching television or sipping a drink by a pool? Maybe all of these things feel like play to you? Do you feel guilty when you play or like it’s a waste of time?

Play, verb form, is defined this way:

“engage in activity for enjoyment and recreation rather than a serious or practical purpose.”

As a noun,
“activity engaged in for enjoyment and recreation, especially by children.”

Seems like it’s the opposite of “work” which is done for a purpose. I’ve definitely used this idea to distinguish these two concepts and play experts often contrast these concepts in this way: “play” being intrinsically motivated and activity that has no intended outcome where “work” is purposeful and is done precisely to achieve an outcome.

Then is there any overlap between work and play? What about learning and play? Learning and work? Is play truly frivolous? Does it not provide experiences through which we learn?

And how about that idea in the “play” definition, “especially by children”? Seriously? What is implied by this definition? That adults don’t play? Shouldn’t play? Maybe that play is frivolous? Frivolous is a fun word too, isn’t it? How does that one make you feel?

I want to continue into the idea of play and its relationship to learning and work (and frivolity) in a future post, but for today I might leave it here. Play (yes that was an intentional word choice) with these questions, with this language. Examine your own response to these three words and your philosophy of work, learning, and play.  How do they make you feel? Did the culture you took on throughout your schooling affect your perception of these concepts? Has that perception affected the way you live your life and how often you play today? Or learn? Or work? Are there ways or times in your life when all three are happening at the same time? Is this even possible?

Does the idea of answering these questions feel like “work” or “play”? Please feel free to comment with your answers to any of the questions posed or your response to even being asked the questions. Or whether you think this is a pointless exercise. Bring it on! Let’s get this party started.