Rollercoaster

 "Write what you feel. You can edit afterwards."

This was my husband's advice to me, after I vocalized my angst at approaching this week's blog post. Since 2009, I collect my thoughts and reflections that relate to education here. This past week has been a week unlike any other in my career. 

Last week's blog was a very deliberate "just the facts, ma'am" sort of analysis. It needed to be, and that post was the cornerstone to what evolved into a small but growing reaction to the news about school libraries in Toronto. Wendy Burch Jones appeared on CBC Metro Morning on September 9 to discuss the issue. Quill and Quire ran an article about the issue on September 10, written by Shanda Deziel. Tanya Mok, from BlogTO, covered the topic on September 12 - the lead image for that article comes from my library.

That's not the complete story. That ignores much of the inner turmoil I've felt as we've careened through these last days before we finally see students and start the 2020-21 school year. I'm one of the lucky ones. I was told about my new teaching assignment on Thursday, September 10. There are still educators out there that have no idea what they are teaching. I'm also fortunate because I will get to teach in-person, at the site where I've been on staff since 2004. I know the students that I will be with this year. Last Friday afternoon, I phoned the families to let them know that I will be their child's classroom teacher. Most of the responses were pretty positive, albeit surprised. It's quite a change, because for what seems like forever, I've been their teacher-librarian.

This is so hard. I really worried about making my feelings so transparent. I don't want my students to think that I don't want to be with them. I do, but I'm also heartbroken, and nervous, and uncertain.

I have been a teacher-librarian for my entire career. Back when I started in 1997, my first full-time contract position was split - I was a 0.5 Grade 4-5 classroom teacher in the morning and a 0.5 teacher-librarian in the afternoon. I have always been a teacher-librarian. It is a part of my identity. I feel as if something has been ripped away from me. I've already gone over how detrimental (or, I'll say it here, devastating) the removal of school libraries will be to students and to teachers. It's earth-shaking to the teacher-librarians and other school library professionals that staff them.

I've been told I'm a good teacher. My students are in capable hands. I have a wonderful support network. I am beyond blessed that I will have the Grade 7-8 teacher, and the HSP/SERT/MART teacher to be my guides.

That still doesn't alleviate the pockets of panic that punctuate random moments of my days, as realization hits me like a punch in the gut. The last (and only) time I taught intermediate math on my own to a group of students that I was entirely responsible for was in 2004. The math curriculum has completely been revamped.  I am totally unfamiliar with what is to be covered in math. My colleagues have provided me with a tower of text books but I start to sweat whenever I glance at it. There's so much to know and so little time. 

Math is one of my three big concerns. Marking is my second worry. This is a cross-division assignment, which complicates matters (i.e. social studies in Grade 6 vs history and geography in Grade 7). The intermediate grades are notoriously heavy on assessment. I've seen the intermediate division teachers at my school lug home armloads of assignments to assess. I'm a slow marker on regular days and I fear that my evenings and weekends will be consumed with evaluations.

My third preoccupation is managing the flow of the day with the same group of students. For 24 years, I'm used to planning in 40 minute chunks and seeing students for a brief time and then sending them back to their home room. I've contributed to writing IEPs as a teacher-librarian, but never written one as the primary author. I don't know how to administer traditional formative assessments like the CASI test. (Thanks to Tracy Halliday for giving me a revolutionary perspective on this - I'm trying not to cause too much disruption but I hope I might be able to take your advice!) I've never attended an IPRC (unless it was as a parent for my own child). There are so many responsibilities that a classroom teacher has that I have not had to think about before, but now I must juggle.

Self-doubt is real, and compounded by the fact that I can't rely on some of my tried-and-true activities because of stupid COVID. One of my favourite community-building activities is to play 3-Ball Pass. Can we still play it, as long as we wear gloves? We are being so cautious at my school. We've spread out the desks as best as we can in our rooms. We have marked traffic patterns in the halls and spray-painted dots on the pavement outside to show where students stand in line to enter the building. xxx It is also super-challenging to see, hear and speak properly while wearing the face shield and the face masks.

As if there isn't enough to fret about, I'm also grieving what I feel is the usurpation of our fantastic Grade 6-7 teacher. I'm taking his room and in my heart it is still his room, not mine. He would know how to deliver this curriculum, because he's done it before. Due to seniority, I'm in and he's out. I feel awful about this.

While all of this is going on, I'm also trying my best to support my fellow teacher-librarians who are floundering. Confidence in times of uncertainty draws people to individuals like moths to a flame. I realize that I can keep a pretty level head in times of crisis and exude calm even though inside I may be not as composed. (Ask me about my first day of class when I took my Mentoring AQ.) I may not know about what it means to be a Grade 6-7 teacher, but I do know how to be a teacher-librarian and have been keeping abreast of the latest developments regarding school library decisions, so people turn to me because it looks like I have answers. That's not 100% true, but I can often provide advice when I cannot offer answers.

In 2016, I wrote about stress on my blog. I've become better at noticing the signs. Lately, stress responses manifest in certain new ways. In addition to running my fingers through my hair, I massage my hands a lot. Unlike others who are suffering from insomnia, I take long naps - partly because I'm exhausted, and partly because being unconscious means I don't have to deal with the thoughts zinging through my head. I giggle nervously when I speak, and sigh a lot. I ask my son, daughter, and husband for more hugs than usual. I have more headaches, and there's tension in my neck. 

I hear on Twitter from teachers in school boards that have already resumed classes that it will get better. We will rejoice in reconnecting and somehow forge new ways of learning and being together despite all these health and safety protocols. I hope it's true. In the meantime, I thank Queen's University for giving me a project that has kept me busy but stable, Animal Crossing New Horizons for allowing me to have fun and maintain a sense of order and predictability, and my family, friends and colleagues for reaching out, even when some of them are hurting or involved with their own personal problems.