What I Wish Teachers (and parents) Knew...

I've been teaching since 1996. That's a mighty long time...so long I have to use tally marks to know exactly how many years I have under my belt. 

I came from a master teacher.

My mom taught second grade like a boss, and I loved helping set up that classroom of hers each August. I had many a stellar example of who to emulate when I became a teacher.

Nel Miller, third grade. She was fun, hung Tom Selleck posters on the wall, and ate those caramel Rolos candies. 

Kathy Partlow, high school english. She taught me to love literature, take pristine notes, and set the bar high. 

My own mama- She filled the dinner table with stories about her students. Some of those stories were rip-your-heart out tragic and others, ridiculously cute. 

In my 25+ years in the classroom, I've won some prestigious awards. I've been a California Teacher of the year finalist, an IB California Teacher of the Year, and my county's state teacher of the year. I've trained schools & districts on how to rekindle true joy in the classroom. 

I feel itchy & uncomfortable standing in that spotlight.

Teachers, by nature, are humble. We aren't in it for the cash or praise. But those recognitions remind me that I did some things right, and I'd like to share a few. 

I prioritize relationships with students. They come first...always, because without them, nothing really sticks. But it takes relentless, consistent, committed work. The kids who resist need you most. 

The layers you must peel back can take months. 

How does this tie in with my grief & a blog about grieving? 

I thought I was doing a pretty good job meeting students in their mess. I thought I provided a loving and safe harbor to children carrying crushing loads. When measured against other teachers, I came out on top most of the time. 

When Geoff died, I had a front row seat to witnessing my children's grief. Lemme tell you, being a spectator to your child's grieving is a special kind of awful...mostly because there is nothing you can do to fix or repair. 

You just hold space, and hang on. 

What I noticed was their level of sheer exhaustion. It was taking every shred of energy to just show up in the world. 

I saw it when they came home from school and collapsed, sleeping for hours. I saw it in their lack of appetite, when my 6 foot daughter dwindled to 104 lbs. I saw it in my son's inability to maintain the pace needed to get passing grades in some classes. 

As their mom, I felt helpless & ashamed. 

I was a teacher by trade, and as a mom I had zero ability to help them close these gaps because I was swimming in my own. We were all in desperate survival mode, and I was sending them into the world every school day on a hope and a prayer. 

This was a HUGE wake-up call for my teacher heart. I was witnessing the trauma on the back end in my own family, yet I had no idea how their teachers saw them in the classroom. 

And it led me to ask myself...Are you really doing enough to support your trauma-impacted students?

This...coming from a teacher who makes a happy phone call home- on speaker in front of the class- daily. 

This...coming from a teacher who orders McDonalds & eats with a struggling kid needing some extra love.

This...coming from a teacher who writes 3 personal notes everyday to students celebrating their wonderfulness. 

I was still falling short.

Here's what I wish more teachers knew;

• Grieving children have little to no capacity to do schoolwork at home. It's taking all their energy to come to school. There's nothing in the tank when the day is done. Give grace.
• Grieving children will appear lazy, disinterested, or apathetic. Their emotions are supersaturated with the heaviest feelings you can imagine. DO NOT take this personally. Meet their human needs by giving reassurance & accept what they can provide, because it's all they've got.
• Grieving adults have years of coping skills and experience to lean into as they ease their way back into routines and life. Our children do not. We send them back to classrooms, after school activities and sports team sometimes just days after the death. They are devoid of ways to cope, and their bubble of safety has been stripped. They are not little adults. Behaviors will surface.
• If you call home and the parent seems apathetic, remember their grief is also turned up full volume. School is not going to be the main event this year, and this doesn't mean the parent is falling short. Trust me, they wish they could do better. 
• Just love that child in your room. Tell them often you are so glad they came to school. If they come late, make the effort to squeeze their hand and smile. Deliver a message like, "I sure was missing you. I'm so glad to see you today." 
• Grief doesn't have a 30 day expiration date. It will last MUCH, MUCH longer than you can imagine. 

I'm certainly no expert, but I have first-hand experience as a mom and as an educator in this arena. I also have to give a shout out to the staff at Xavier College Prep School. They showed up time & again for my children, meeting them in the mess too many times to count. They excused work, reconfigured schedules, and gave endless amount of grace to my family. I felt like the worst mom ever last year- and they supported with zero judgement. Just love. 

Here's the last thing I'll say about the guilt and shame. 

We aren't the parent we used to be. The sooner you can drop the comparing, the sooner that shame will lift. That version of you was possible because of who died. You are now working toward a new version- a 2.0 parent version- who will be completely different than before. But they take time to construct. 

Lay down the trash talk- 

• "I feel like a lazy mom."
• "I wasn't the fun parent.'
• "I just can't get my act together."

YOU ARE GRIEVING. This takes energy- lots of it. And guess what? Those kids of yours are grieving, too. The house isn't supposed to be filled with cheer and excitement. It'll return in small sips, but not before anyone is ready. So go easy on that healing heart of yours. 

I'm nearly 18 months into grief, and I still bump into this one ALL THE TIME. I also think this is the hardest part to carry. Our kids are getting a real short stick here, and trying to compensate for this will never suffice. No amount of treats, trips or tokens will fill that gap. 

Don't discount the need for burrito blanket parties on the couch, taking to the bed for a movie, or pizza delivery & paper plates.

We are works in progress. 

Keep freaking going!