Finding harmony, or a ‘work-life balance’, is not always so easy. Teachers work in environments where we are on display, constantly being asked to flex one way or another, to group and individualize, to plan, execute, reflect and regroup.

Most of the time it’s doable – we find a rhythm to our classes and our workflow and especially after November harmony just happens.

Until it doesn’t. Usually because of an interruption. Or a disruption.

Or a life event that reminds us that being ‘on’ all day without anywhere to hide, without a place to retreat, leaves us very vulnerable.

As an educator, I feel like this sometimes:

In my part of the world, this is the treat in our fall and winter skies – murmurations of starlings, dancing in and out of formation. Their harmony is mesmerizing, only broken by the intrusion of a predator or a decision to rest.

When my dad died last month, this is what came to mind. A disruption of harmony. An intrusion. A storm of emotions and decisions and realities that threatened my equilibrium and pushed me out of teaching. It’s just impossible to face forward at times like this, looking into 120 sets of eyes that hunger for recognition and caring.

This time, I didn’t have a choice.

I just stopped. I focused on what I could do to make me happy, knowing that if I could recenter and regain a little bit of life harmony, the work harmony would fall into place.

A few days in, I heard a knock at my door ten minutes before class started. I hesitated to answer, afraid of how I would react to any sort of request. Surprisingly, when I pushed open the door a tiny little girl on crutches, blond braids slightly askew, chimed, “Mrs. Wolfe, can I show you something? I wrote my hook last night and I think it’s really good!

How could I say no to that? And as she read aloud the few sentences she’d crafted the night before, I smiled. What we’d been learning in my first period English class stayed with her overnight, urging her to write and create and share…a teacher’s dream.

I set an intention at that moment, seconds before the bell rang, to look for more.

“After a storm comes a calm”

Harmony appeared nearly every day after that. Rather than getting caught up in the needs of everyone else, I looked for tiny glimpses of hope that what we were creating in room A-1 meant something. I stepped back from worrying about being behind, and pushing to finish, and settled into the process. Watching the joy in students’ eyes when they ran over to me during reading time, novel in hand and exclaiming they noticed an example of dialogue written just the way we’d been learning about…or pointing to a character’s thinking and wondering why it was or wasn’t italicized.

I helped them push past perfectionism in their publishing and find a platform that best enhanced their narratives, challenging their creativity and showing them that they, too, are published authors.

As my flexibility increased in the classroom, the joy showered down on me and I feel the harmony easing back in. Teaching is hard if you do it right – just like parenting. It’s much simpler to look the other way; easier to take the path of least resistance. This month is teaching me to honor the ebb and flow of my life and of my classroom. I’m consciously practicing creating harmony in my personal life as well as my profession, and the navigation isn’t always smooth. Life cycles don’t always follow a predictable pattern. Stress builds, minds close, and boundaries grip us tightly.

Like the starlings, I’m learning how to rebalance. Practicing mindfulness so when harmony is disrupted, when an ‘intruder’ shakes up my center and pushes me out of bounds teaches me I can handle it. I can harness my power, listen to my rhythms, and swoop low when I need to.

I know I’ll rise up again.

If you’d like a copy of the narrative writing HyperDoc with lessons we’ve been doing, click here.

If you’ve got some ideas for bringing more harmony into our lives, please reach out – I’m confident there are many of us who could use a bit of help.

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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We are still fighting the battle with AIDS. It was the wake-up call to my generation, those in the 1980s and 1990s who first started dying – quickly, painfully, tragically – from AIDS.

Today our children know about this evil disease and have overcome so much of the stigma attached to living with – and dying from – AIDS. But still, far too many are suffering in 2019.

Today, according to the World Health Organization, “Of the 37.9 million people living with HIV at the end of 2018, 79% received testing, 62% received treatment, and 53% had achieved suppression of the HIV virus with reduced risk of infecting others.”

That is HUGE progress. But there’s still SO much to do. In our classrooms, we can start by talking and reading about stereotypes. Gender issues. Sexuality. We can bring a human face to AIDS – sharing biographies of people, both famous and just like us, who are living or have lived and died with AIDS.

Some free ideas

Use this link for downloadable materials to help educate our children.

Why AIDS research is important to me

In 1991, I was student teaching and looking for a permanent job. I wanted to teach middle school, and met Steve – and I had no idea that this man, who recruited me to start a ‘technology grant’ school, had AIDS.  It was the early 1990s, and AIDS wasn’t mainstream.  It was a secret.  In education, no one was ‘out’, and certainly no one would reveal they were HIV infected.

Steve didn’t look sick or act like he was dying.   In fact, he never told us.   He just disappeared from work for one year.   We didn’t know what was wrong.  I wondered why he was not on campus; it was unusual for a man with his drive to teach to just not show up.

  And one day when he came back to visit, we figured it out.   It took one look to see the lesions, the weight loss, the look of death.

And then he died.  

Thank you, Steve, for taking a risk with me.  I was young, eager, and enthusiastic.  You gave me a chance.   I think you’d be proud of the teacher I’ve become.   I’ve never forgotten you, or your infectious laugh, or your love of the strange-but-contagiously-addictive middle school human.  I wish you were here.

Key facts about AIDS – according to WHO

• HIV continues to be a major global public health issue, having claimed more than 32 million lives so far. However, with increasing access to effective HIV prevention, diagnosis, treatment and care, including for opportunistic infections, HIV infection has become a manageable chronic health condition, enabling people living with HIV to lead long and healthy lives.
• There were approximately 37.9 million people living with HIV at the end of 2018.
• As a result of concerted international efforts to respond to HIV, coverage of services has been steadily increasing. In 2018, 62% of adults and 54% of children living with HIV in low- and middle-income countries were receiving lifelong antiretroviral therapy (ART).
• A great majority (82%) of pregnant and breastfeeding women living with HIV also received ART, which not only protects their health but also ensures the prevention of HIV transmission to their newborns.

More AIDS data:

• However, not everyone is able to access HIV testing, treatment, and care.
• Due to gaps in HIV services, 770 000 people died from HIV-related causes in 2018 and 1.7 million people were newly infected.
• In 2018, for the first time, individuals from key population groups and their sexual partners accounted for over half of all new HIV infections globally (an estimated 54%) in 2018. For eastern European, central Asian, Middle Eastern and North African regions, these groups accounted for around 95% of new HIV infections.
• Key populations include men who have sex with men; people who inject drugs; people in prisons and other closed settings; sex workers and their clients; and transgender people.
• In addition, given their life circumstances, a range of other populations may be particularly vulnerable, and an increased risk of HIV infection, such as adolescent girls and young women in southern and eastern Africa and indigenous peoples in some communities.
• Increased HIV vulnerability is often associated with legal and social factors, increased exposure to risky situations and creates barriers to accessing effective, quality and affordable HIV prevention, testing and treatment services.
• Over two-thirds of all people living with HIV live in the WHO African Region (25.7 million). While HIV is prevalent among the general population in this region, an increasing number of new infections occur among key population groups.

AIDS diagnosis/treatment:

• HIV can be diagnosed through rapid diagnostic tests that can provide same-day results. This greatly facilitates diagnosis and linkage with treatment and care.
• There is no cure for HIV infection. However, effective antiretroviral drugs (ARVs) can control the virus and help prevent onward transmission to other people.
• At the end of 2018, an estimated 79% of people living with HIV knew their status. 62% were receiving antiretroviral therapy (ART) and 53% had achieved suppression of the HIV virus with no risk of infecting others.
• In June 2019, 24.5 million people were accessing antiretroviral therapy.
• Between 2000 and 2018, new HIV infections fell by 37% and HIV-related deaths fell by 45%, with 13.6 million lives saved due to ART. This achievement was the result of great efforts by national HIV programs supported by civil society and international development partners.

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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I’ve watched one of my 7th grade boys fake reading for six weeks. Now, he won’t admit he’s fake reading. Not even close.

He will admit, however, that he hates reading. Hates books. Always has. And nothing I can do will change that.

Aah, 7th grade is so much fun sometimes.

Every day we start class with ten minutes of relax and read. Aside from the first day of school, we’ve read every single day for the first six weeks of school.

I don’t tell the kids what to read, how to read, where to read…I just ask them to read.

I have over 1,300 books in my classroom. I display intriguing titles, have books grouped by genre, and we talk about books – a lot.

I challenge them to read 25 books before June. It’s definitely a big goal, but I believe they can reach it – and most kids have already finished at LEAST one book.

I don’t care if they read graphic novels, informational books, teen fiction, series…I just ask them to read.

And this little guy isn’t doing it.

He’s the classic fake reader – opening to the middle of a book and hoping I don’t see that he’s not turning pages. Reading the dictionary. Oh – and he finished ‘reading’ the entire textbook in two sittings.

But what I’m most frustrated by is that I can’t figure out WHY.

I know that the ‘fake reading’ is an avoidance behavior. I won’t get into a power struggle, I won’t get agitated. I just calmly ask, every day, what he’s reading and urge him to find one book he can stick with.

He’s still in the excuses stage. And I’m ready to shoot down every one, calmly, kindly.

So today I started digging. I looked at his IEP – worthless. Nothing about reading, just talked about math and graphic organizers. I looked at his grades – failing. I talked to his case manager, the counselor, and still…nothing.

I could feel the frustration, the agitation, the disappointment rising.

We are going to lose this kid if we don’t do something to figure him out.

And then I got a “by the way, we’re adding kid #37 to your English class today” comment, and that was it.

This is how public education fails kids, and how teachers get frustrated and burned out.

It’s not the kid. He’s 12. He’s likely scared, worried, and well aware that he needs to practice reading, even though today he told me he didn’t think he did.

Ashleigh Warner, Psychologist, is reading my mind when she says, “Beneath every behavior is a feeling. And beneath every feeling is a need. And when we meet that need rather than focus on the behavior, we begin to deal with the cause not the symptom.”

His mom doesn’t return my emails. I feel like I can do something to help him, to help deal with the cause…but having 37 12-year-olds to give face time and true attention in a 50 minute period is darn near impossible.

We are going to lose this kid if we don’t do something to figure him out…fast.

This post doesn’t have a happy ending – yet. It’s not about finding the right book, or giving him a beanbag to be comfortable. I know in my gut it’s something bigger –

And I need help to figure him out…fast.

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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“Mamawolfe, can I talk to you today?” he questioned as he walked through the doorway of our classroom. There’s a reason I make a herculean effort to greet kids when they come into class. I get a chance to SEE them. I look them in the eye, say their name, and do a quick ‘mom’ check – eyes, face, body language…I can tell a ton in a quick ten-second glance. 

“Sure, bud – let’s make some time to talk in class today. And if something happens – I’ll make sure we connect during 6th period. I don’t teach then, and I’ll call you out of class, ok?”

He seemed temporarily satisfied, but I could tell after the first five minutes of beginning the class something was definitely NOT Ok. His eyes downcast, head tilted to the floor, and no jovial banter with the seatmates – this was not the kid I knew.

“Mrs. Wolfe, can I please go in the hall to text my mom?” he asked during binder check. 

“Sure, but why don’t you go sit at my desk instead? Make yourself comfy,” I suggested, and he agreed.

More to come

A few minutes later I asked him if this was a good time, and to come back to my ‘office’ – a fancy word for a corner space by my desk with a beat-up black bean bag, some lavender oil and coloring books, and kleenex. Several boxes. Most of all, it’s a place where I can listen without interruption, kids can cry and feel safe telling me what’s on their mind. Mostly my AVID classes use this space, but my 7th graders have been known to figure out that I will listen to them there, too.

Today the tears started almost immediately, validating my hunch that all was not right in this 13-year-old’s world. I know this kid pretty well – he’s had more than his share of trauma already in his life. So I listened. He told me about home, his mom, and how he’s frustrated and anxious and worried about his performance in school…and I listened. I reminded him that he will get through this and that when kids have anxiety at school it’s often connected to stuff they’re feeling outside of school – and I knew his outside of school was not great. Not even good. Downright crappy, in fact.

Handing him a tissue, I asked, ‘What’s one thing I can do today to make it just a little bit better?” He shook his head.

“Do you want me to write a note to your history teacher asking for permission to turn in late work?”

“No – my mom will do that. That’s why I texted her. But I know she’s just going to yell at me when I get home. And dump all her problems on me.”

Do parents listen?

I temper my rage when I hear these kinds of things coming from kids’ mouths – and yes, I’ve heard them before. But as a teacher – particularly an AVID teacher – I’m concerned about my student. I’m their advocate. I’m there for them. I can help parents get resources, I can give advice, but when I’ve got a sad and anxious kiddo in front of me, I want to make it better. I just can’t help it. They’re just KIDS! I want to scream. BABIES! They shouldn’t be dealing with all these real-life adult things yet.

“You know, I can just go to your teacher and let him know you need time. That’s part of my job as your AVID teacher. No questions asked. He trusts me…”

“Let me check if she texted me back – nope of course not,” he interrupted, glancing quickly at his phone. 

“Ok,” I replied, looking into his eyes. “You know, you are amazing. You have so much more to deal with than an 8th grader should. Your mom is lucky to have an amazing kid like you, you know? You’re amazing because you are YOU. You don’t have to do anything or prove anything – you’re just awesome,” I sputtered.

What I wanted to say was, “Your mom is lucky you’re not taking all this out on yourself like some kids do – cutting, drinking, vaping, cutting school…all you’re asking is for her to listen to you. To see how amazing you really are. And to treat you like a kid – not her therapist.” But of course, I swallowed those thoughts and we made a plan.

“You know, I just feel better telling you,” he replied softly. And I thanked him again. As I was getting up, he looked at me and asked,  “Can I have a hug?”

‘Of course, you can, Bud, of course,” and he smiled back as he reached for me.

Some days teaching is harder than others – for lots of different reasons. Some days are frustrating, some are long, some are painful. But when I have days like today, the days when I know I’ve been able to be that person a kid can trust to listen, to help them breathe through their anxiety, and to help them remember how amazing they are, it’s worth it. Every single time.

Because they’re KIDS. They have feelings and thoughts and insecurities and very little life experience to draw on to know what’s ‘normal’ and what to do and how to handle life…especially when the adults in their life don’t know how to handle their own.

These are the days I feel like a teacher. These are the days when I didn’t teach the curriculum – I taught students.

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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The first day back to class is always full of adrenaline, expectation and fun for me. I’m exhausted at the end of the week, but it’s a good kind of teacher tired. It reminds me that teaching is hard work – if you want to do it right. It’s the kind of fatigue that builds from beginning to create a community from nothing – the first step in letting kids know you’re paying attention to them so they trust you. And it’s beginning to balance kids, teaching, and motherhood – even when I’ve got an empty nest at home.

The first day

In my very, very small reading class, I have the opportunity to connect quickly with my students. We sit on stools and cushions together around a low coffee-style table, face to face. The first day of school this year was also the day my son was leaving the nest and flying to college in Boston. Being a teacher mom has these moments of feeling stretched between two worlds – do we focus on our own child and their needs, or tuck that away and see the kids in front of us. Of course, I try to do both and sometimes it doesn’t work out so well.

The empty nest

This year I didn’t get to see my son off at the airport, and I was sad. I stuffed it away for the morning of teaching, but at lunch when I had a few quiet moments I texted him to see if he made it out of our house ok. Sure enough, he was on his way to the airport and said he’d call when he was settled. The call came just as the bell was ringing for my 5th-period reading class – what do I do? Greet my students with a phone in my hand? Ignore them as they come in the door, knowing it will be weird for them to not see a whole class full of kids? Ignore my son…somehow I needed to balance it. I wanted to show my students the human side of me – the mamawolfe side.

So, quickly I answered the call, hung up, and brought my new readers into a circle. Introducing myself, I told them how happy I was to be their teacher and told them that my own son needed help, he was traveling to college and asked their permission to be a mom while they browsed the books in my classroom library and relaxed.

Of course, they said ok.

Building the relationships

After a few minutes of helping Cam get his boarding pass situated, I was back to the group. And naturally, they had questions. How old was my son? Where was he flying to? What did he need help with? How many kids did I have? Did I have a pet? Where is Massachusetts? Where is Boston? What began as a dilemma had turned into a very teachable moment. We used our US map and found his college, and talked about moving away from home. Quietly, the dark-haired boy to my left said, “I just moved away, too. I used to live in Oakland, but now I live here.”

I was pretty sure no one else heard him. He kept his eyes down, either shy or scared or both. I twisted around and replied, “Oh wow- Oakland is sure a whole lot different from Davis, don’t you think?”

He looked up. “Yeah. It’s a lot quieter.” His voice was a touch louder, but I could still tell he wasn’t ready to open up. The other kids were caught up in their picture book selections and relaxed on beanbags, so I pushed a bit.

“How long ago did you move?” I asked.

His stomach rumbled in the quiet room. Even though we had just come from lunch, I whispered, “Are you hungry?”

“No,” he quickly replied, barely audible.

“Ok; I have granola bars and crackers if you ever want anything….”

“Granola,” he blurted out before I could finish. Silently I stood up, went to my cabinet and grabbed a chocolate chip chewy bar and a small bag of pretzels from my snack drawer. Without speaking, I put them on the table in front of him and sat back down.

Like any teenage boy, he gulped down the snacks as I sat next to him, reading along with my other students. He stood up, dropped his wrappers in the trash and as he sat back down beside me, he asked if I’ve ever been to Oakland.

The moment

That moment – like an electrical charge – broke the ice, the first step taken. We connected. I think he felt my care for him; his body visibly relaxed into his chair. We talked about my grand-doodle Ellie, and other kids jumped in to tell about their dogs. I promised to show a picture of her the next day, and suddenly the class was over. I asked if he knew where to go next, and his quick reply reminded me of what it’s like being the ‘new kid’ in school. Glancing at his schedule I suggested I could walk with him – he was going to one of my favorite teacher’s classes.

“Sure…” his voice came out in a whisper-question, but I went with it. As we approached his history class, I introduced him to his teacher as he greeted kids at the door, knowing they were both Oakland fans. He would be safe in there.

What happened next

In truth, that’s not all of the story – it’s actually not even my favorite part. What happened the next day was where I really realized the power of connections, and what we had done together.

“B” walked back into my room the next day and looked straight at me and said hello as I brought my stool up to the coffee table. The shyness of the first day disappeared, and as the other kids were wiggling around with their backpacks and books, “B” said, “Ms. Wolfe, I have a question. Did your son make it to Boston OK?”

Startled, I looked back at him and replied, “Why yes he did – thank you for asking. I’m sorry yesterday started off a little weird, but he’s there now and I’m here and ready to read!”

“B” smiled and cracked open his book, settling back into the grey Papasan chair I had brought from my son’s bedroom at home. “B”, about the same age Cam was when he used to curl up in it, too, relaxed in his safe space.

I had to go over to my desk for a moment…I knew the tears were coming. Being a teacher-mom is like that. Relationships happen in the most unexpected ways at the most unusual times. Opening up to kids and letting them see YOU helps them open right back up and lets you see THEM. And that’s where the magic can really start to happen.

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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