Self-Help Archives

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.

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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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Helm (PSF) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It’s funny how life circles itself around you sometimes, isn’t it?

This morning my freshman AVID students discussed the quote, “A community is like a ship. Everyone ought to be prepared to take the helm.” It was one of those inspirational quotes printed in their daily calendar, meant to encourage critical thinking.

As usual in my classroom, things didn’t quite go as I expected. In small groups, I asked them to talk about what they thought the quote meant, and how they could apply it to their AVID experience or their life in general.

First, I heard several kids asking what ‘helm’ meant. Didn’t expect that one.

“It’s something you wear on your head,” I overheard one boy explain. “Like helmet.”

Well, not exactly. I do like that he’s looking at the word, though.

“I think it’s the front of a ship,” said another.

“No, it’s being in charge,” a few responded.

Now we’re on the right track. Something the person in charge wears on their head on the front of a ship. Sigh.

When we came back together, they began to share. Eventually, we talked about why it would be important to be ready to take charge, or to be prepared to step up. We talked about how communities need to have leaders, but that everyone needs to feel heard and be able to contribute.

I felt good as they went into their tutorial groups, and noticed a spark of understanding in their eyes. Their discussions were animated and thoughtful; it really seemed like they have learned to depend on each other for support.

Less than an hour later, the true meaning of the quote as it applied to my life became visible.

One of the absolute benefits of my job is my colleagues. Teaching isn’t an easy job, and teaching middle school definitely isn’t for the faint hearted. The constant rollercoaster of being around hundreds of teens experiencing puberty can send the toughest personalities over the edge at times.

That’s exactly what happened today. Someone hit their tipping point and came to me for support, lips quivering, eyes welling with tears.

Without hesitation, I listened. I empathized; I knew precisely the complete overwhelm they were experiencing. I felt the anxiety, the vulnerability, and the fear.

I took the helm. I did what I knew how to do. I tried to envelop them with safety, trust, and a sense of importance. I got help, and took action.

I actually didn’t think twice about it, and then I went back to my day.

Hours later, after the kids left for the day, they thanked me. Their message of relief, trust and belonging broadcast clearly how much my actions mattered.

Photo credit: planeta

And when they breathed their sigh of relief, spoke their words of gratitude, and expressed their sense of belonging, I knew. Really, it’s the reason I’ve stayed there as long as I have. It’s the people, the relationships, the community.

We realize that we don’t always have to be the one steering the ship; our shipmates are right alongside, ready to step up. They help us avoid the icebergs, clean up after a storm, and sing when our spirits need a lift. They are always ready to take the helm.

It’s funny how life circles around itself like that sometimes, isn’t it?

mamawolfe

Tag: Self-Help