From 2013-2015, I was in a long-distance relationship with my now-husband. He lived in California and I in British Columbia. Thankfully, we were in the same time zone so we didn't have that hurdle to face, but we still had close to 1000 miles between us.

During that time, we were forced to become masters of communication. Despite having nightly video calls, we couldn't always fully anticipate the emotional affect of the other person. Body language was there, but sometimes obscured. If we were texting, we were missing tone of voice. If we found ourselves in a sticky conversation on any forum, we needed to work it through without the ability to truly look into each others' eyes. 

This wasn't an easy skill to develop. It took a lot of critical self-reflection, humility, and empathy to build those communication skills. Today, I would venture to say that we've relaxed our practice of some of them because we take for granted the proximity we have to one another now. We're not relying on the meticulous communication as much as we used to... because we don't have to anymore.

But now, we've been forced into the cultivation of similar communication skills as we continue (or begin, in some cases!) our teacher-student relationships from a distance. For students and teachers alike, this shift has been abrupt and challenging. From grieving the separation from their friends and school communities to the activities that go on within them, it hasn't exactly been a walk in the park... for anyone. But now we have an opportunity: we can help to build these communication skills in students and in ourselves. 

In normal times, my goal as a Grade 7 teacher is to make my students as independent as humanly possible before they leave my classroom. I teach them how to self-regulate, manage their tasks and their time, to read criteria and texts closely, and to ask critical questions. Essentially, my goal is to teach them how to learn and how to adult simultaneously. Except... they're 12 and 13 years old, so it's rocky and wonderful and imperfect and awkward... all rolled into one. That doesn't mean it's impossible to learn great communication skills, though.

It's important to acknowledge that it's weird for students to suddenly be communicating with their teachers through a screen all the time. Their screens are typically a major part of their world that us teachers are simply not included in (at least in a major way). Also, this shift isn't something that any of us chose - not teachers, not students, and not parents. This hurdle is massive and it might shift the way this communication occurs because most students don't know how to communicate with their teachers through a screen all the time.

So how do we cultivate these independent skills from a distance? How do we ensure that students are getting the message we're trying to send to support their growth as a human? 

First, we need to cultivate that social emotional wellness through building on the trust that already existed in the classroom space. If we always and only come at our students with "this isn't done" or "you didn't do that right," we're not considering the "why" behind those missteps and nurturing them as a person in those exchanges. Positive relational communication starts with checking their emotional affect - "how have you been doing lately?" Hold space for their answer and if all they say is "good," ask for more. They're learning to more effectively communicate and so, as any good teacher might, we need to ask critical questions to get them to elaborate. Once you've satisfied that they're okay and their situation is stable, then move into the issue of why something isn't meeting an academic standard - "Is there anything I can to do help you with your learning?" or "I noticed _____. How can I help you with this?" If they're not okay, omit assignments completely. Give extensions. (Now is not the time for the deadlines life lesson. Seriously.)

Another way to build up this social-emotional wellness is to provide regular communal check-ins as a class. This could be done through synchronous video calls but a universal time to meet may be challenging for many students in the current environment. To address the need for asynchronous community-building options, my Grade 7 colleague and I are doing daily community engagement tasks that require some element of student creativity to complete (you can find my entire post on this here). Some recent examples have been the Cintascotch drawing challenge, building blanket forts to work in for the day, and the Getty Art challenge (images added below have media release).

​The key with any communal task is that students share their work to a space that is accessible to be viewed and commented on by other students. This is critical: they need a space where they can be social about their learning. In getting feedback from my students, they have by and large said that the engagement tasks are one of the best parts of their day. They love seeing what their classmates are creating and don't hesitate to have fun exchanges with one another about their work. 

When it comes to academic communication, it all starts with modelling and creating clear expectations. At the level I teach at, that means I need to carefully craft assignments and it means that students need to read instructions or watch a video carefully, and maybe more than once. I'll say here that the "carefully" and the "more than once" aspects need to be reinforced quite frequently. At lower levels, it might mean that you're creating shorter videos, texts, or soundbites that are easily digestible for parents and students alike, with a bit of advice on student feedback for families.

Ideally, once you get rolling, you would provide frequent opportunities for them to communicate back to you through writing, photography, videos, or their art. Challenge yourself to see what they can create as these are richer learning experiences that rote responses to content questioning. If you can get them on a call, have them reflect on the process: what went well, what was a struggle (if there was one), and how is this different than what we would experience in a normal classroom. Consider formative assessment for students, providing them with a "next step" in their learning process as opposed to a summative performance against a specific outcome.

Last, ask yourself: how can you make communicating with students a somewhat predictable cycle? It's good for them to have an understanding of when and how you are checking in on them. This is the part I'm now working on so students have an established understanding of how they may communicate issues they're having. It's important that this is offered in a way that feels safe and that maintains the tone and positivity of in-person relationships as much as possible.

​Communication is hard. But in the end, it's up to us as adults to make sure that our students feel those emotions of care, love, and belonging... even through a screen. We have to teach them how by learning how to do it ourselves.

​I'm a teacher.
I teach 
Grade 7.
These kids are
amazing.
They're a bunch of hopeful,
funny, and
spunky
preteens and teenagers
who are raring 
to get to high school
but are the teeniest bit scared to 
leave behind 
everything
and everyone
they know
in this place called
elementary school.

The final term
with every class I've had
​is usually
the best one.
It's a frantic term,
like they all are,
but this one
is loaded with fun,
focused on community,
and filled with love.
It's a time when we all
really and truly
know each other.
We laugh
together.
We play tricks 
on each other.
When we gather for a
conversation, 
we listen,
truly listen, 
to each other. 
We get to take in 
incredible experiences
that only draw us
even closer together.
Field trips.
Camp.
Waterslides.
We are a team.

And now, it feels like
all of that is gone.
It's been
stripped away 
from us.
By something
no one has 
​any control over.

I'm sad.
This is my first time
teaching Grade 7.
My first time to teach kids
that I won't see
walking the halls
for years
​after they've
left my class.
The first time I really
have to say
goodbye.
And it's the first time
they -
these hopeful and
funny and
spunky kids -
really have to say 
goodbye, too.
And we won't even
get to do it
properly.

I'm not new to learning remotely - I completed my whole Masters program online. I've taken several cues from my experience as a learner in that program to set up spaces for my own class while we are amidst this pandemic. Of course, there are many differences in what I'm doing for my own class because:

1. My students aren't Masters level students, they're in Grade 7
2. We're in a crisis

The number one things that your students and families need to know right now are what space you're engaging them in online and how exactly that engagement is going to happen in that space. Instead of sending 15 gazillion emails, having a one-stop shop like a simple website or a platform like Microsoft Teams or Google Classroom is recommended. Start small within that space as not to overwhelm. Simple is better. You can gradually build pieces into the space over time once students and parents are used to how it works.

In other words, SCAFFOLD, SCAFFOLD, SCAFFOLD. Any app or website designed for remote learning can be very overwhelming at first glance. It's just the nature of the beast, unfortunately. People need to have the opportunity to acquaint themselves with the space before the pressure is on to submit assignments.  
 
So how am I doing this? I've been piloting Microsoft Teams with my fellow Grade 7 colleague, Sarah Moore this year. This meant that before this crisis even began, we already had the space where we were connected with students. The issue: we used the tool in a massively different way than we need to use it now.

In order to get students used to checking the platform daily for their learning tasks, we decided to provide some small engagement tasks. These include silly and simple things that are fun, like "What's your quarantine name?" or "Create a ridiculous scene and take a picture of it." We also share memes and funny videos that are school appropriate. While these are not robust, rigourous learning experiences, they set the tone for what we expect: come to this space to get our communication. We want them to feel that this is a space that is fun, that it is one that builds community first, so that they keep coming back. Building greater challenges in academic learning will come.

We post these prompts daily at a predictable time in a predictable format so that students and parents know exactly what to expect. While Sarah and I differ with the format we send them in (she uses OneNote/Teams and I use my class Weebly site/Teams), we are consistent in the philosophy behind delivery.

The routine matters. Everyone needs some predictability right now.

When we have shared these ideas with our colleagues, there has been a lot of interest in what the engagement tasks, videos, websites, and memes that we're posting actually are​. We decided to create a document that links everything we've used so far and share it more broadly so that others can engage their students in their online spaces in the same way we have been. It's a live document that we will update as we go, so keep an eye on it for new ideas, or let us know if you have anything cool that is worthy of an add.

Click the button below to see the list. Happy learning!

Let's be real: everyone's job is hard in education right now.

I know that there are challenges in literally EVERY department. I know that there are folks who have the pressure of completely transforming their teaching practice while others are busy training everyone up so that districts have capacity. I know that there are leaders looking out for the health & safety of all while others are busy abusing the systems. I know there are people who are scrambling to maintain their relevancy and proving against the optics why they should even get a paycheck while others are literally drowning in the work, screaming for a life raft.

The scenarios go on. I know. I get it. 

BUT. And this is a big BUT...

Who decided that professional learning couldn't come out of tough situations? Who decided that communication is not the #1 way to proactively mitigate uproar from your organization when making tough decisions? Who decided that cutting off access to something is easier than having a conversation together to discuss best practice?
​
I'm going to compare these issues to the cell phone debate that has long gone in schools around the world. There are two basic schools of thought here:

1. When you enter my classroom, the phone goes into a bin / folder / pouch. When you leave, you can take it with you.
2. When you enter my classroom, you can use your phone for educational purposes and I'll teach you how to do that appropriately. We can then refer to those lessons throughout the year as needed.

​The underlying battle here is essentially this dichotomy of thinking: complete control via abstinence vs partial control via management. One is certainly "harder" than the other but I would argue that one of those tactics educates more than the other.

So why this comparison? Here's some personal context:​​​

The beautiful part about my district's Continuity of Learning plan, particularly the instructional support guidelines for teachers and families, is that social-emotional learning and connectedness is the #1 focus. The prescribed minutes of instruction per day are manageable and age-appropriate, and the considerations for students, teachers, and families alike are realistic. The plan is very well thought-out for all stakeholders. That's, frankly, hard to achieve, and I applaud them for this work.
​
However, resource-wise, teachers are still without an official list of technological tools they are allowed to utilize to roll out this plan, save for the pushing of two platforms that the district is championing: Microsoft Teams and All About Me by MyBlueprint. 

Since the Grade 7 team I'm working on has been using MS Teams as an unofficial pilot this year, we've had the opportunity to dive right in and connect with our students in a way that several other educators don't have the luxury of doing in any immediacy. Other educators have the hurdle of setting up a communication hub while we already have it established and running smoothly. So I say the rest of what I have to say with this in mind: we are in a different situation than most teachers. 

The team I'm on has been communicating regularly with IT and a district committee about our experiences or challenges that we have faced while using Teams. Now that we've found ourselves in this crisis situation, the platform is being pushed for use in intermediate and high school classrooms throughout the district. We were not and have not been consulted in how we may support these roll-outs even though that was something we willingly offered. 

But okay, no big deal, they didn't/don't need us, so we began planning for continuity in learning in our own classes while supporting people informally if they reached out. The focus in our own classes also looks different than that from others around the district because we don't have the aforementioned hurdles of establishing how this will be done, and we have already been able to use Teams to support engaging students in social-emotional learning. So, naturally, we started to explore tools and linked applications within Teams, and formed a robust plan around their features and affordances. 

Then, as we started rolling them out, we discovered that particular technology tools or features within our existing platforms have been fully shut off by our IT department. We had done all the planning, but students couldn't access features we had planned to heavily use. This was done prior to communication to teachers, and has essentially rendered useless - and this is not hyperbole - around 90% of the planning that our team had done so far. How did we find out these were kiboshed? When students tried to participate in the learning opportunities we had planned for them, they were met with a message of: “This is not available to you.” Not through our district, nor the people who knew we were piloting and innovating. We found out when the kids told us. (And yes, we did test the tools with student accounts beforehand. In fact, one test was less than 24 hours before the tool was banned from student use!)

So now, these last two weeks of prep and planning have almost all been for naught while the district continues to change their minds about what we're allowed and not allowed to use and how. And while I understand certain measures are temporary, others, unfortunately, are not. These decisions have included banning tools that would greatly enhance connection, often citing lack of FOIPPA compliance as the reason, despite local government statements of privacy law relaxation during the pandemic. There is also the issue of neighbouring districts who are also heavily-FOIPPA aware who use the very same tools that we're not allowed to, and no one seems to understand why.

Before you roast me for thinking I have some weird desire to bend laws to my pedagogical needs, let's be clear: I don't have some evil plan to post kids' full identities, addresses, grades, and IEPs onto a platform like Flipgrid. I'm trying to give them an authentic and asynchronous opportunity to see each others' faces and share their feelings about their current situation. This absolutely adheres to the flexible nature of instruction required by the district's Continuity of Learning plan while also factoring on the social-emotional/community/connectivity component I mentioned earlier. I don't need to use Flipgrid when I'm in a face-to-face instructional setting. I need to use it right now.  Because we're crisis teaching in a crisis situation.

​And this is just one of many scenarios we've been facing.

I'm not going to lie: I've cried several times. For the wasted time. For the missed opportunities. For the need to rethink almost every part of my instruction AGAIN and AGAIN as every new restriction presents itself. 

And of course, our team will pivot and recalibrate. Of course we'll be okay. Of course we understand and empathize with the positions other people are in through the district. And it doesn't change the fact that it's shortchanging the experience we know that our students could be having. It doesn’t make us feel less micromanaged. It doesn't change that it hurts. Professionally. Mentally. Emotionally. 

If you're a leader reading this, please know that the teachers who will work the hardest for you need fair, proactive, and timely communication. They need to be treated like professionals through tough decision-making. And they need to know their voice matters. Then, I promise you, they will buy in. 

Until then, I'm left feeling like I need to leave my figurative cell phone in the box at the door and just do what I'm told.

British Columbia is behind most every other province and state in North America in getting remote learning going for students. I don't mean we're behind as in we're lagging; the COVID-19 travel restrictions and face-to-face instruction suspensions came down to us in BC while most of us were enjoying our 2-week spring break in March. This gave our instructional leaders time to plan while other stakeholders were all encouraged to continue enjoying their break. (Thank goodness we have leadership and government who care enough about their educators and students not to revoke their spring break, like New York).

Our break meant that others were already forging ahead with remote instruction before we even began. It meant that BC would have the opportunity to learn from other people who were already knee-deep?... chest-deep?... over their heads?... in the reality of what remote learning might look like for their respective communities. Educators across Twitter and other social media feeds were already sharing their work and thinking widely. From shouts of problematic inequities for families to development of best-practice philosophies during crisis teaching, it was all already out there. While we had our own fish to fry in each of our BC districts and school communities, those problems would hypothetically be smaller in scope: we didn't have to reinvent the wheel, because that work was already out there in the open. But...

No amount of powerful philosophy, guiding documents, or support from leadership could strip away the complex emotions within the work we did this week. 

In my district, we have been given a broad runway to get things going with remote learning. With a brilliant focus on "connection," educators of all walks - teachers, educational assistants, youth care workers - were all tasked with phoning the families of their students to check in with them. Our goal was, first and foremost, to find out if everyone was doing okay, but also to identify any inequities that might be experienced in the home: parents who are essential service workers and who require childcare, families who lost income who may need basic support with groceries or bills, families who had a lack of devices or access to the internet, etc. The following week (this upcoming week), is intended as a week to plan, collaborate, and to get a framework up and running for your families to access. Then, after Easter, remote instruction officially begins. 

I had seen so many other educators share about these experiences we were about to go through. While I didn't think I was immune from the emotion, I was certainly prepared for it because of what I read from others... right? By the way, I'm probably not going to say anything new here that hasn't already been sad. However, it's important that our community in BC processes this experience together, just as others have been able to in other parts of the world.

People wanted something for their kids to do, but they were largely feeling patient about the amount of time that teachers needed in order to prepare. They wanted to know how my family was doing and to make sure that we were all right, too. I felt so happy to get this support but so sad that we never really got to say goodbye. 

​After I was done my calls, I wrote a thread on Twitter that I thought had captured some of my feelings, but it didn't fully do the trick. I was emotionally exhausted from the balancing the joy of community support we were receiving with the grief of losing this special time with my class. 

In the end, I took all day Saturday to decompress, thinking of nothing professionally, and my "breakdown" for the day consisted of a 4 hour midday nap.  I'm okay now, but I know another emotional workweek lies ahead and no matter what I read, hear, or see, I'm not going to be able to stop that. 

Let's feel through this. Bring it on.