Fall CUE 20 is around the corner – are you going? If not, why not? It’s VIRTUAL this year, and you don’t even need to leave your couch!
This year I’m mashing up two of my favorite teaching topics – HyperDocs and SEL – with two of my favorite educators – Nicole Beardsley and Sarah Landis – and we’ve got 60 minutes of ways to connect hearts and minds!
Here’s a Fall CUE 20 session teaser:
Are you looking for authentic, relevant ways to integrate Social Emotional Learning into your curriculum? Do you want to create meaningful lessons to connect the hearts and minds of your students? Have you built HyperDocs? This session will help you increase academic achievement, improve student engagement, and build SEL into your classroom using HyperDocs! Using CASEL’s five core competencies we will explore, explain, and apply SEL using technology tools – and your students will see huge results!
Participants will design HyperDocs using templates and exemplars to build an understanding of and commitment to Social and Emotional Learning in their students.
Participants will explore their understanding of CASEL’s five core competencies, their impact on and importance to students, and apply them to building lessons using educational technology tools to increase academic achievement and improve student engagement.
– Don’t miss this session on Saturday from 11-12 – sign up at http://cue.org NOW!
Looking for inspiration?
To begin, this session at Fall CUE 20 will have TONS of free HyperDoc resources and ideas to engage students and build relationships! One of my favorites is this All Are Welcome lesson to help my students understand the concept of empathy. Also, students will connect with each other in a low-risk environment, and build narrative writing skills. You can make your own copy of this All Are Welcome Hyperdoc. Just remember to add in your own links to slides and the Padlet to personalize your copy.
Finally, you’ll feel GREAT after exploring resources to help you build more social and emotional connections in your teaching space!
Hope to see you this weekend at Fall CUE 20 – and remember, I’ll always share resources for FREE here on jenniferwolfe.net. And if you want to explore more about HyperDocs, check out the website hyperdocs.co!
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.
Nineteen years ago I sat at this same desk, looking out this same window. I still get up at the same early hour, teach the same grade level, same subject. I still don’t watch the morning news, but now in 2020 it’s for vastly different reasons.
I have the same husband, same children, and even the same hair color – although, after the last six months living through the pandemic, it’s definitely showing signs of grey, appropriately matching the smoke in my California sky. and the emotions in my heart.
Sameness.
Nineteen years ago we realized that the world would never be the same – not for those of us living through the attack on the World Trade Center.
The attack on our citizens in our own country.
The attack on our sense of security.
In 2001, I still woke early – but then it was to find some ‘me’ time before my babies greeted the day and my focus shifted. Today, my babies are adults, living in some other house, in some other states.
In 2001, I’d never even visited New York, I had trouble imagining visiting many places with a three-year-old, a 23-month-old, a full-time teaching job, and just, life. Today in 2020, I imagine visiting my 24-year-old and my 21-year-old on Zoom, in between teaching virtual classrooms and a pandemic.
Now, in retrospect, I’m glad I made it to New York before 2020, before the idea of getting on a plane terrified me – not because I fear dying from more acts of terrorism like 9/11, but because I fear dying from the terror of COVID-19.
I fear never seeing those places I dream of visiting, those places that just six months ago awaited exploration and checking off my bucket list.
Did any of us ever imagine there could be a horror greater than 9/11 in our country? That more people would die in a week, a day, of a disease that COULD HAVE BEEN PREVENTED, than died on September 11, 2001?
Today, September 11, 2020, I’ll stay safe inside my house. I’ll still look out the same windows, still listen to the morning news, still prepare to teach 7th grade English, just like on September 11, 2001.
Today, though, I’ll stay safe from COVID and wildfires. I’ll look out at smoke and ask swirling outside my window, listen to the morning news not about unbelievable loss in New York City but this year, unbelievable loss across our country and our world.
I’ll still prepare to teach 7th grade English, but this year it will be from my ‘classroom’ down the hall, in front of a camera, unable to hug and comfort and look into the eyes of my students. This year, I’ll teach them how I’ll never forget that September 11 morning in my classroom with students. I’ll share with them how shocked and scared and silent we all were, wondering what would happen next.
But still, just like 9/11/2001, I’ll smile and still remind students that I’m there for them, to be a stable adult for them amidst the chaos, just like I did nineteen years ago.
Not at all like September 11, 2001 – but why do I feel the same sense of overwhelming sadness, anxiety, and fear for my children? For our country?
What follows is a re-posting of my 9/11 reflection, written nine years ago – before the country crumbled once again before my eyes. Back in 2011, when the comfort of a decade of healing gave me a little bit of room to breathe. Then, looking back when an ordinary day was something we dreamed about.
Still, the same.
It may never be an ordinary day again. But now, in 2020, for vastly different reasons.
9/11: It started like any ordinary day.
After maternity leave, I’m still getting the hang of getting out of the house on time each morning. I’m up early enough to have some ‘me’ time – 5:30 a.m. – before the pitter patter of my 23-month-old boy’s feet signal the start of mommy-time.
Must plan Cameron’s birthday party for next weekend, I think.Coffee made, candles lit, I start up the desktop as part of my morning ritual, eager to check email and read the news. Having children broke us of our TV news habit when we realized they were transfixed with images of stark reality we were trying so desperately to shelter them from.
A breaking news alert flashes into my inbox – “Plane crashes into building in New York.” Hmm. I’ve never been to New York. Worlds away from my cozy study. I hope it’s nothing serious. Pitter patter pitter patter…here comes my boy, blankie, and book in hand. My heart thrills at the sight of his big round head. “Make sister juice,” he chimes with a smile as big as any Cheshire cat.
I switch off the computer, eager to start the morning snuggle and reading time. It is just another ordinary day. The 11-mile commute to school is nothing unusual. I drive past the harvested tomato fields, crop dusters skim the highway. Lesson plans fill my mind. Exit right, then left, then straight down the walnut tree-shrouded road towards Douglass Junior High, where my 7th grade English students stand lined up, waiting for me.
“Hey, did you hear about the plane crash?” they shout as I open the door.
“Yes, I did,” I answer, and switch on the lights. “Let’s get started.”
“But, can’t we watch the TV? I have an aunt that lives in New York, and I’m worried,” a child pleads.
“TV? When do we ever watch TV in class?” I respond with a smile. ‘Let’s get started – it’s grammar day everyone’s favorite!”
Moments later, an announcement is delivered by a TA telling us the grim news. Not one plane crash, now it’s two. What??? The Pentagon? Three planes? Buildings collapsed? People dying? But it’s just an ordinary day!
Why don’t I have my cell phone? This ancient classroom has no Internet; the only technology is the old TV mounted in the corner of the classroom.
Where are my babies? Did Lily make it to kindergarten? What the hell is going on? I want to go home…
Thoughts flash through my head as I try to process what to do. Thirty sets of eyes stare at me, searching for comfort. I’m the teacher. I’m in charge. I know what to do?
Frantic thoughts of my own children race through my mind. Are they OK? What will happen to us? Are the terrorists on their way?
Then I realize-someone is taking care of my children, just as I’m taking care of someone else’s. I know what to do. They need me to make sense of it. That’s what I would want my child’s teacher to do.
Reluctantly, yet desperately, I turn on the TV. I have to know. I can’t wait all day.
After two hours, no word from my family, I switch it off. Business as usual – that’s what educators do. Keep them calm, keep them busy. I know it’s only going to get worse, and it’s only 10 a.m. Two more hours and I’m done.
As I jump in my little gold Escort wagon, I’ve never been so relieved to only work part-time; 11 miles fly by-not enough time to decide how to explain the unexplainable to my 5-year-old. The radio news drones on and on. Thousands dead. The children. The mommies and daddies who will never commute home again. The parents who will never see their babies again. The young people who will never have the joy of holding their child in their arms.
It’s more than I can bear. The tears stream down my face as I safely reach home. It’s clearly not just an ordinary day.
‘Mommy, why are you sad? What happened at school today?” Lily whispers, her big blue eyes boring into mine. How do I answer? She’s only four. Far too young to have to learn about such horrors.
I tell her a story about a plane crashing and good guys trying to stop the bad guys. “Did the bad guy go to jail?” she questions.
“No, he died,” I reply, choking back tears at her innocence.
“I’m sorry he died, Mommy. But I’m glad that we weren’t on that plane.”
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.
Creating a strong virtual school year isn’t easy. Much of what we know as educators now feels uncertain, shaky, and in need of revamping. Relying on ‘what we’ve always done’ can no longer be our default – educators must transition into a virtual school year by retaining our core values as educators and then modifying what we KNOW is solid educational pedagogy to meet the needs of virtual learners.
Sounds like what we’ve always done, right? Differentiate to the students who walk through the door? Except for this year, they’re just (hopefully) showing up on the screen.
This doesn’t automatically discredit all we KNOW as educators. We are not suddenly all first-year teachers, lacking experience with building community and engaging curriculum.
So let’s work with what we have, what we know, and give ourselves a little grace. We WILL have failures – and we WILL have another day to get it right.
What do I know works for starting a strong virtual school year?
1. Keep it simple.
Kids (and their parents) want to know what they’re going to learn, how they’re going to learn it, and how the teacher will assess it. They want to know their teacher cares about them. They want to feel seen.
Keeping the start of the year simple, teaching the ways to navigate their web conference based classroom space AND their digital learning space doesn’t have to be boring – integrate your beginning of the year structures by using a new element of each virtual classroom. TEACH students to use chat to connect with each other and then with content. Breakout rooms should start with a low-risk activity, like Frayer-a-Friend – I love this one by Brian Ross using Google Drawing.
Remember, everything takes longer in virtual learning. I love to over-plan. I have always been MORE than ready, and that continues. But I’ve learned that pacing in a virtual classroom needs to slow down. Teachers cannot pace from body language cues anymore, even IF kids have their cameras on (which they often won’t, and that’s OK). Consider digital wait time as twice as long…not only is there a lag in connection speed, but it takes kids a minute to figure out how to unmute, or type their thoughts. And I’ll bet that every teacher has a different system for ‘calling’ on students, so they have to remember that, too.
Links fail – and so does the internet. I always have a backup link. Even when I’ve taught a lesson multiple times, there will be that one day when things will just…fail. When that happens, take a breath. Explain what’s happening, and switch gears. It’s not the end of the world, it’s not even that bad to look at learning from a new angle. If you’re really thrown by unanticipated failures, ask your students for ideas. They love to contribute. And when all else fails, there’s always the virtual fire drill!
2. Perfection is the enemy of DONE
Don’t fall into the Pinterest-worthy peer pressure. Clear and complete wins every time over cute and cluttered. Tying back to keeping it simple, spend your time creating engaging content rather than the most elaborate Bitmoji classroom that kids – and parents – can’t figure out and definitely won’t appreciate the amount of time you spent.
Make learning sticky by creating simple routines that embed content AND strategies slowly. Spiral the learning in the first few weeks so you’ve established the basic protocols, and then you can switch to creating lessons that STICK. Organize the learning, then repeat. Let kids EXPLORE concepts, get them excited to learn, and ENGAGE them with strong distance teaching pedagogy – you can read more about that on my previous post. One of my favorite engagement strategies is using Multimedia Text Sets – here’s one we’re using to explore the concepts of taking bold actions and risk/adventure. Just go to ‘file – make a copy’ and modify it as you want. Just remember to change the response form to YOUR Google account!
3. Create a safe space
Just like in the physical classroom with face to face learning, I want my students to know their virtual classroom spaces are safe. When kids feel safe, they feel seen and heard. When kids feel safe, seen, and heard, they’re more likely to take risks in learning.
To begin creating this safe space virtually, I create clear expectations and norms, involving my students every step of the way. Try using a simple Padlet like the one below with questions to get kids thinking about when they feel safe, seen, and heard. Teach how to respond and connect with online comments, or using a rating system where students can show their level of agreement with a classmate’s post. THEN have the class collaborate to write the norms they agree to.
This doesn’t have to be all in one day; in fact, I like to let it linger a bit as we go through the first two weeks. Virtual learning is new – we need to give kids time to sit with it and figure out what they need BEFORE we decide on how things are going to work.
Teachers, trust yourselves. This year should be looked at as a time to push forward the traditional boundaries of education, not rebel against them. Take with you what you know works for YOU. Focus on community first, not curriculum. Keep it simple – kids want to know you care more than they want to be impressed by fancy Canvas pages. Remember perfection is the enemy of done. It’s ok to build this as we go – we’re used to being flexible! And above all, create a safe space. Talk about growth mindsets, failing forward and taking risks. Remind your students that you’re right there with them, and let them know they are valuable.
We CAN do this – we WILL do this! And we WILL come out stronger on the other side.
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.
Are you wanting some PD before school starts? Wondering how to do projects in distance learning? Would you like to podcast with your students?
I’m inviting you to a Twitter chat I’m hosting on Monday – I’ll be working with WeVideo to share podcasting ideas on their #whatsyourstory chat at 4:00 p.m. PST. You should join us!
Here’s a peek at the questions – if you can’t make it live, please schedule your responses starting at 4:05 and every 5 minutes after we’ll start a new question! You can also search #whatsyourstory later to see the amazing dialogue I’m sure we’ll have!
If you’re looking for some pre-created free podcasting lessons, check out my links below:
Another great resource for podcasting as well as other video projects is WeVideo’s book called “WeVideo Every Day: 40 Strategies to Deepen Learning in Any Class” by Dr. Nathan D. Lang-Raad, and my podcasting lesson is featured!
I’ve written about podcasting on mamawolfe before – check out some of my previous posts for more ideas and detailed walk throughs of how I podcast in my classroom!
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.
“The time for the healing of the wounds has come. The moment to bridge the chasms that divide us has come. The time to build is upon us.” – Nelson Mandela
Since March 13, when my 29-year teaching career suddenly pivoted into unknown territory, I feel the COVID chasm growing deeper in education.
So much of what we always did, what we always knew, what always ‘worked’ dissolved with the movement to online, crisis teaching.
Some teachers literally pivoted over night. Some, like me, had an amorphous ramp-up time, highlighting the literal and physical break in our system.
Four months later, rethinking how we ‘do’ school isn’t a place most teachers thought we’d be. Many of us thought we’d be out of the building for a few weeks at best, just enough time to let the virus blow over. We’d be back for the last quarter, be able to see all our hard work pay off with celebrations, projects, graduations, and promotions – all the best parts of the school year showing themselves off.
When we left our classrooms, many of us never realized we wouldn’t open the doors again for months, not anticipating it would be like unlocking a time capsule that would bring us to tears.
And the most disturbing part is, this chasm, this great divide between what we knew then and what we know now, continues to widen, to separate and fragment, and is leaving all educators – particularly teachers, wondering where to find solid footing.
The COVID chasm divides
This COVID chasm divides the risk-friendly with the risk-averse, crisis teaching with online instruction, parents with teachers, the government with education, people of color with what’s equitable, and what YOU say with what I hear.
It’s the reason why teachers are scared – me included.
Before, the split between education’s early adopters of technology, (the risk-friendly types), and mainstream teachers (the more risk-averse types) was less visible. Suddenly, ALL teachers adopted technology in order to keep the school going – thus exposing students and families to staggering levels of preparedness. Those who used to rely on ‘the way we’ve always done it’ found themselves lost, isolated, and overwhelmingly untrained to execute distance learning.
The COVID chasm exposes
It exposed a systemic problem in education, a deep, broken and yet firmly foundational system that locked our schools in place – and a system that can benefit from disruption.
When conflict happened pre-pandemic, it was easier for parents and teachers to ‘agree to disagree’. Many times – or most – teachers would breathe deeply and try to remember that they are the education experts, even when parents were telling them how to teach. With teachers planted as responsible for a failing economy if we refuse to support face to face instruction, the chasm between parent and teacher gapes.
As our country confronts the COVID-19 crisis, the deep separation between the ‘haves’ and the ‘have-nots’ reveals the inequity in educational funding. Big business bailouts versus devastating cuts in education pit neighbor against neighbor, political parties against each other. Educators, expected to do more with less, feeling devalued and expendable, wonder if it’s worth it anymore. Why wonder if they can be expected to resume ‘business as usual’ and put their life on the line. Do teachers need to die for their jobs?
And the chasm between BIPOC and whites, between those who are most impacted by the virus, least likely to have healthcare, job security, or choice about sending their kids back into school buildings – including BIPOC educators – perhaps they feel the COVID chasm most intimately.
Educators can tell you what’s best for children – it’s to be surrounded by people who care, people who want to listen and hear what they’re saying, by people who understand that the trauma of being put into unsafe school situations is greater than the trauma of missing one fall or one year of face to face instruction.
Educators know what to do
Educators are trained to do what’s best for kids – and when you say, “It’s not that bad…kids need to be in school with their friends”, what we hear is, “Your life is less important than mine – otherwise I would be fine hosting all 30 of my kid’s classmates for a play date”.
When you say, “We need to have a Zoom meeting to discuss re-opening ideas”, what we hear is, “The virus is too dangerous to meet in person, but not too dangerous to put teachers in classrooms”.
When you say, “Just put up a tent outside – it’s safe out there”, we hear,”Teachers are babysitters and camp counselors, not educators”.
And when you say, “Distance learning didn’t work for my kid last spring”, we hear you say, “Teachers failed – even though we did our best with little time and no training.”
It’s time to think about Nelson Mandela’s words: “The time for the healing of the wounds has come. The moment to bridge the chasms that divide us has come. The time to build is upon us.”
Bridging the divides
We know better and we can do better. Together, we can bridge the divides before us, and take this disruption and run with it. We can take care of our students, we can figure out solutions – but only if we take the time. The time is now. It’s time for teacher training in online learning and increased government funding for education. We need equitable access to healthcare and collaboration between families and schools. This pandemic shouldn’t bring out our worst – let us work together to heal our wounds and do what’s best for our kids.
Teachers shouldn’t have to be forced to decide between their profession and their life, or the lives of their families. That’s not going to make education better. That’s one chasm that we cannot bridge – but so many of these we can.
What do you say – are you willing to help fix the COVID chasm, or not? Remember – you are what you DO – not what you SAY you’ll do. Time to step up for education.
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.
