Just Dance

No longer am I the wide-eyed young whipper snapper teacher (say that ten times fast with a Boston accent)  I once was; my pewter hair will tell you that right away. No matter where you are in your career in education, this year is going to be trying for the whipper snapper and veteran teachers alike. It’s the very first week of September and those who work in education are bracing themselves for whatever bumpy ride is coming their way and many of us are still trying to figure out what synchronous and asynchronous learning means. Those terms were used A LOT during this week of training and I began to wonder if teachers are going to have to learn how to bend space and time in order to do their jobs this year. The scary answer is...yes. 

Mom to three under 12, daughter and roommate to two over the age of 85, and teacher to a hundred plus. During COVID, I have tried to master the art of trilocation but I’m still only capable of bilocation. Take yesterday for example. Before 10 AM I had managed to shower, get dressed, walk the dog, attend a two hour meeting, do a pedicure on my daughter (complete with foot bath), bake a cake with said daughter, entertain the many whimsies and complaints of my 10-year-old, empty a dishwasher, and make a Bitmoji GIF of myself. How did I do all this? I have no idea. All I know is that by 3:40 I was having a Flannel Friday beer on my front steps as sweat trickled down my back in the hot September sun. Some weeks demand to be ended with a happy hour simply because you survived.

Some of us educators are starting fully remote, some hybrid, some fully in person, some are still unsure. Some of us feel strongly about all of the above, others (myself included) have reached a point of oneness with chaos. This harmony with discord came when I realized that seeking answers to unanswerable questions was (and still is) fruitless. Sure, panic finds a way to creep in to my daily life, sometimes hourly. I’ll be sipping my coffee in peace and suddenly I’m riding a tidal wave of “howtheHHHHELLamIGOINGTODOTHIS??!” But then “Dancing Queen” by Abba comes blasting through my laptop speakers during what should be our National Anthem on day one of professional development and the panic subsides. That moment? Perfection. Dancing Queen would be the perfect anthem for this year. It reminds us to just dance no matter what. You can dance and you can jive during a pandemic. You really can. Why? Because you are a dancing queen. Don’t let anyone dull your sparkle.

I will reach a point of utter bewilderment this year, I am certain of that. My life is a series of hiccups and laughs with bumps, bruises, and falls along the way. If you’ve read my stuff, you already know that very, very well. I have had so many WTF moments this year that I now have permanent WTF lines on my forehead that Botox won’t help. Oh well, c’est la vie. Despite the saywhaaaaat? moments that I know are coming down the pike, my goal is to just live one day at a time and plan one week in advance. That’s it. And that whole planning a week in advance is very iffy but that’s what I’m aspiring to do. Each day, I will allow myself simple pleasures like bike rides, beach trips, and frozen circus peanuts for an afternoon snack. It is through those little rewards that I hope to maintain balance and “practice self-care”. Stick around to see how I do, it’s sure to be entertaining.

To all my fellow educators out there that I know and love dearly—I see you. As much as I know you would  like to allow your Bitmoji to run your life this year, I know that you are not a cyborg. The tears you have already shed, I have shed too. I am always here, feeling what you feel. Whatever Pollyanna visions I spew forth, I do for myself more than for anyone else. There is no Pepto Bismol that can counteract these jitters so let’s all just be jittery together. And perhaps, if our cards are played just right, we can all manage a socially distanced beer or glass of wine together for that “we survived” happy hour that I plan to celebrate each and every Friday. I won’t say “we’ll get through this together” because if I hear the word “together” one more time I might pull all of my eyelashes out. I will, however, say what Mom always says: “this too shall pass”. Cheers to all of you.