But the bad? It's really not so much bad as sad. There's no way on earth that I can provide the same opportunities for acquiring French in two week chunks, with an hour a day.  It's just not possible. (I'm used to minimum 90 minutes a week with each grade, spread out over the week.) There is the possibility of structuring an art project or a library lesson that will wrap up "neatly" in 14 days. However, that can't happen with language. I do not mean this to belittle my specials colleagues. But in this regard French is, well, special. You would never ask a child to practice writing or reading for a concentrated period of time, and then have them stop for six times as long. ​Logistically, it works fine. Realistically, it's a nightmare. And it breaks my heart to see a huge part of my identity, being a French teacher, disappear. I'm working, but I'm not doing my job.

But in a conversation with my therapist earlier this week (he's a GENIUS!), he said something that was simple yet profound, and really made me look at this year with a different lens. I'm paraphrasing, but he basically said, don't think of it as a lost year, think of it as a sabbatical. Hmmm....sabbatical? I let that sink in for several seconds. (And I'm someone who HATES silence!) And he's right. There's no way I can compare this year to past years. Therefore, I need to think about this year as unfamiliar territory. If I approach my lessons, my interactions with students, and my time in the classroom with the same perspective as I have approached every other year, I'm bound to be frustrated, sad, and even angry. I have known from the beginning that I would not cover nearly the same amount of material than in a normal year, but the reality of how it is playing out was a punch in the gut. I put emphasis on the word "was." I now look at my days at school in a unique way, and it has helped me to come to terms with what I'm not able to do and embrace what it is that I experience and observe. 

I have a long way to go on this journey but I am proud to get up and start running, and I will never shy away from that. I know I am late to the game, but I have ordered White Fragility and How to be an Antiracist, which I will be reading and discussing with friends and colleagues when they are no longer on backorder. (If you do not own them yet, consider ordering them from these black owned bookstores). I donated to the GoFundMe to help save The Frugal Bookstore in Massachusetts. I just learned about We Buy Black and will explore it in depth. I set a monthly donation to the Southern Poverty Law Center. I pledge to continue to educate myself and move forward. This is an incredible list of action steps for white people to work towards racial justice. On Monday, I will contact my legislators (by phone, NOT by email) to tell them to advocate for criminal justice reform, civilian oversight of police, and the allocation of taxpayer funds towards community services. And finally, I will continue to VOTE.

It seems like the content of my recent posts has shifted from teaching ideas and lesson content and moved towards emotional and mental well-being. And I'm OK with that. I have not shied away from highlighting and discussing my sordid history with depression. Not coincidentally, one of my podcasts is called "The Hilarious World of Depression." Some of my favorite people have been guests on the show: Chris Gethard, Peter Sagal, DMC from RUN-DMC, Margaret Cho, Gary Gulman. They talk openly and funnily (is that a word?) about their mental health struggles, and I believe it is helping to #endthestigma.

Earlier this week, on a drive from my official residence to my temporary home, I was in a bad headspace; I have spent the past two weekends "visiting" my house, and it has become a challenge. Being in an empty house for 48 hours to grab some things and do some laundry took its toll on me. (I'm not sure when I'll be able to go back there from an emotional standpoint, and that saddens me even more.)
As I drove west along the southern border of Vermont on Tuesday, I needed something to make me smile, but also something that would speak to me and help me. So, I turned to THWoD. (I am proud to be a THWoD-ball, and I really want this shirt! My birthday is in August, hint, hint!)

5. Maintain previous self-care protocols
In addition to all of the ridiculous curve balls life has thrown at me in the past month, I received news that one of the most important events of my year, the Covered Bridges Half-Marathon, had been flat-out canceled. 2020 was going to be my sixth consecutive year running on the Upper Valley Haven charity team. I was devastated. But a friend of mine said, "Hey, why don't you still raise the money and 'run' the race?" So I have decided to do that. It will give me something to focus on and work towards (physically). I am thrilled; the Haven is an important organization, and I'd be honored to have your contribution to the cause. (I plan on running on Sunday, 6 July, exactly one month after the date of the original race.)

Another fabulous blog post on this topic comes from my dear friend La Maestra Loca, who, at the beginning of these crazy times, wrote about the need to "put your oxygen mask first." This is a parallel idea. So put that mask on, and don't beat yourself up if you can't figure out exactly how to get it on the first time. We're all figuring stuff out right now, and it's going to be messy.
What are you doing to be kind to yourself and keep self-care a priority?
​Bises.

Where to start? Less than 12 hours ago, I learned that we will not be returning to school for the rest of the year. Saying life is challenging right now is an understatement: first I wrestled with the fact that we would be out of school until April vacation. This was followed by the unexpected need to put my dog, Boo, my companion in life who has always been there for me, to sleep. I have spent the past five days pretty much in complete isolation (albeit in an adorable little house) with no one but my stuffies to keep me company. (They're not big conversationalists.) And now, no more classes?

I'm going to stop here, resisting the temptation to climb on a soap box and shout at the top of my lungs. So everyone, especially teachers, K.I.S.S. DO NOT pile on the work. Less is more. We need to keep our students safe and happy right now. We have no idea what other responsibilities/tasks/burdens they have at home and we can't have the same expectations that we would in normal times.