20 Moments Of 2020: Part 5

8. I'm going to go with Lovett

My first thought after almost every single political news story this year was, "What Jon Lovett think?

During the Obama administration, Jon Lovett, a former White House staffer, helped me interpret, process, and better understand politics in 2020. On his podcast Lovett or Leave It, and Pod Save America, which he hosts along with Jon Favreau, Tommy Vietor, and Dan Pfeiffer, he brought humor, truth, and empathy during some of the most difficult traumatic parts of 2020.

In his analysis, Lovett never forgot the human factor, the power of emotion, and empathy.

So much about trump and his movement is about denying pain.

It's about denying their own pain. 'Oh you feel bad, you feel a loss of purpose, you feel like America is leaving you behind, it's not on you. Hate some other people. Point your anger elsewhere.' And a lot of it is about trying to convince people that they don't matter.

That's why you don't need masks at a rally. That's why you don't have to take COVID seriously. Convince yourself that you are so strong, you're so tough, that you don't feel pain. You don't need to worry about pain, you'll be okay. To deny services, to deny help, to deny compassion to other people; that is so core to what trump does.

At the core of Lovett does is the opposite of trump. Beyond the humor and the shtick, Lovett seeks to understand and help others be understood. Every time I turned to Lovett to better help me understand what was happening in our country, he never failed to inform me, think more deeply about my beliefs, and inspire me to be a better citizen.

7. Justice Ginsburg's Rainbow

I was sitting on the floor leaning against my bed, weeping, as "Rainbow" played on repeat through my earbuds.



We had lost so many before her death came last September. Maybe it was the struggle of trying to teach in-person and the ongoing stress of the pandemic. But something happened; something finally broke inside of me when I heard about Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg's passing. She had done so much in her life to benefit all Americans. She gave me one more gift with her passing, the push to mourn, to feel deeply, and let go.

Just because she is gone doesn't mean that we are without her spirit and others like her fighting for equity and justice. There is "always a rainbow hanging over your head."

6. Breonna Taylor's Life Still Matters

Breonna Taylor should still be alive. Her murderers should be in jail, and the system that allowed the circumstances of her death to occur should be dismantled. She is one of many and part of the American story of racism, which has been with us since before our country's founding.

Our work is not done because there will be another racist murder, but there will never be another Breonna Taylor.

It's been months since her death, and I'm still processing her murder. I think I always will be. 

Parenthood: Week 403 – 20 Moments Of 2020: Part 4

11. Home of The Brave 

When that nine-year-old asked Mayor Pete Buttigieg how to be brave, instead of drawing upon his years of military service or lecturing the boy, Buttigieg did something remarkable. He acknowledged the bravery within children that many do not understand. 

 

Like a great teacher and a great parent, Buttigieg did not lie to this boy or color the challenging process of coming out as Gay as being easy. He was unambiguous in his answer about the challenges that he would face. Like a great leader Buttigieg empower that boy by helping him understand how his bravery could inspire others and how there will always be people rooting for the ones brave enough to be themselves.

Pete Buttigieg showed the world in 2020 what it meant to be brave running as a Presidential candidate, never fearing to be honest and true to himself. More importantly, he showed America's children that there is power in the bravery in their hearts.

10. Waitin' On A Sunny Day

There was no election victory. For four days, we waited. Even though it was certain that President-elect Biden was going to win before Saturday, November 7th, America was holding its breath, wanting to be sure of the results.

On top of the election, I was exposed to a student with COVID-19 that Wednesday, and the stress of getting tested (the tests came back negative) and having to transition to teaching remotely was palpable. By the time we got to Saturday, I was exhausted, mentally, physically, and emotionally.

Watching my children play in the grassy hills in the Chicago Botanical Gardens after hearing the news that President-elect Biden had indeed won was wonderful. The challenges were still in front of us. COVID-19 was still raging, systems of oppression continued to create savage inequalities in our country, and we still weeks before Biden would be inaugurated. But the sun was out, the sky looked a slightly different shade of blue, and my children were laughing.

That morning we got something that we all needed to keep ongoing.

Hope.

 

9. My Ancestor

I miss my dad.

I haven't in a little over a year, and I likely will not see him until this summer. It's been tough not being able to share so much of my life with him.

Like many men, I struggle with what it means to be a son and be a father. As destructive masculinity continues to be modeled and respected by so many, it isn't easy to know how to be a man, especially with a father across the country.

Bruce Springsteen is one of those men who struggle along with me.

In 2020, Bruce Springsteen opened up about his philosophy, his insecurities, and his life. The film Westerns Stars was a beautiful reflection on his life, and the album Letter To You was a love letter to past friends and memories of the music he shares with his fans. And in 2020, we were finally able to see Springsteen On Broadway as a film. 

 

Watching alone, my sons sleeping peacefully in their rooms, Springsteen's thoughts about his father affected me deeply.

We are ghosts or we are ancestors in our children's lives. We either lay our mistakes, our burdens upon them, and we haunt them, or we assist them in laying those old burdens down, and we free them from the chain of our own flawed behavior. And as ancestors, we walk alongside of them, and we assist them in finding their own way, and some transcendence. My father, on that day, was petitioning me for an ancestral role in my life after being a ghost for a long, long time.

About a month ago, I wrote a letter to my dad for the first time in my life and shared with him these words. I told him that he is and has always been an ancestor. Life is too short to let things be left unsaid, so I took this opportunity to make sure he knew how much I loved him and that I was grateful that he was always there for me and always with me. 

Year 11 – Week 16: 20 Moments Of 2020: Part 3

14. Student teaching…mentor 

This fall, I took on the role of student teaching mentor for the first time in my sixteen-year teaching career.  It may have the worst of times to take on a student teacher, but it was the best of times in more ways. With all of the curriculum changes, it gave the student-teacher space to work on curriculum development, and I also really needed this help. I was teaching general music without singing and a band class without instruments. I needed help, and my student teacher needed the experience. Because of our mutual effort to make this partnership work and a shared paradigm of teaching, we could help each other grow as educators. Both despite the pandemic and because of it, student teaching was a success for both of us.  

There is more than teaching students in my future as an educator. A path lies ahead of me, and after being a student teaching mentor, it's becoming clearer.  

 

13. Inspiring John Lewis

The late Representative, John Lewis, is one of my most important influences as a teacher. His work continues to inspire me to work harder for my students, myself, and our country. Striving to continue his work in my classroom in some small way brings meaning to my work. When Representative Lewis passed away on July 17th, he left an essay, one final lesson. 

His final essay was a gift and a reminder that we all have the power to inspire and make the world a better place, as he did.  

When Representative John Lewis came to my school and spoke to all of the students and teachers, I don't remember clearly the content of his entire speech. However, I do remember how he made me feel.   

Representative Lewis made me feel like I belonged, I mattered, and I had the power to make right the injustice I see in the world. I hope that someday I can make my student feel Representative Lewis made me feel that day.  

 

12.  Opening In-Person

The opening of this school year was the most difficult school year openings in my career. It was a process filled with fear, uncertainty, and tension. There was no guidebook and no clear process. My views on what should happen in the fall evolved. I started with being completely anti-in-person school to fully supporting and spending extra hours late and night and on weekends trying to make in-person school work.  

I can't fully explain how this happened, nor do I fully understand how I came to be working so hard to make something work that many people felt was the wrong choice.  

In times like these, all I could, all we can do is "the next right thing." One choice, one step at a time. With the future as uncertain as it is, all you can do focus on the next choice in front of you. And now that I think about it, the future was never as certain as we thought. Maybe it's not that I had it wrong this fall or last summer, but I had something else wrong in previous years.

20 Moments Of 2020: Part 2

17. America The Beautiful 

There is beauty in America. The diversity in our land, in our people, and our history is complex, nuanced, and inspiring. Nowhere was this clearer during the Democratic Roll Call during the Democratic National Convention.

In the previous conventions, I found watching this part of the program boring and tedious. This year, the convention organizers took the challenge of doing a roll call during a pandemic as an opportunity. We saw our cities' beauty, our land, and most powerfully, our people during this roll call.

People of all genders, sexual identify, generations, and positions represented their states with dignity and pride. There are too many moments in this role call that were meaningful to name here. In the words that were spoken and in the backgrounds through pictures and settings, we saw America's story. This is the story of people who have made America great by fighting the oppression that founders built into our government's structure and lie in the darker corners of our hearts. It was a wonderful experience to watch this, so much that we re-watched in with our seven-year-old.

There are very dark and disturbing corners of our country. Still, good people continue to work to make America a more inclusive, equitable, and beautiful country with hard work, love, and optimism.

 

16. Gaslighter

The anger, bitterness, and rage, and the hope that I felt in 2020, were mirrored nowhere more directly and beautifully than in The Chick's album Gaslighter.

There was a lot of great music during 2020, but no musicians spoke directly to the emotions that I felt during this past year. While the stories told in this album were mostly related to the divorce, they were not ones I could directly relate to; these stories paralleled what was happening in my life and what was happening in our country.

In our country, many leaders gaslighted the citizens, acted in unspeakably immoral ways, and left Americans battered, scarred, and left for dead. This was the year that the "courage of man" failed, and like The Chicks, I felt rage at many men in America for having the ability and privileged to ease the trauma of this difficult year and made it worse for their own personal gain.

There was more than rage in this music. The was also the revenge of living well, the feeling of being, and the power of acceptance.

In "Texas Man," Natalie sings about not being young but still having worth and value.

I'm a little bit unraveled.

Everybody wants the new model

But I'm a little bit more traveled

If you got the strength, I do.

Then sign me up.

If I'm not too much for you.

Then sign me up, sign me up.

I'm a little bit unraveled, but I'm ready.

This album is about how we can persevere and make it through the difficult times and the horrible things that people do to us. Maines sings at the end of "My Best Friend's Wedding," an affirmation of how we can make something out of all that has been burned down and rise.

I'm back here at my best friend's wedding,

Yeah, she married again.

I've never seen her look more happy,

Guess from ashes, we can really grow.

And my wildfire's comin'

Burnin' the path that I've known.

Watch me, yeah, watch me run with it,

Take it wherever it goes.

 

15. Dr. Fauci elevates Dr. Corbett

During the AIDs crisis 1980s, Dr. Fauci stood up against the prejudice and the discrimination that people had against people who have AIDs. As a scientist, he used facts and research to dispel illusions that were spread about AIDs and helped people see the humanity in those suffering from this syndrome.

In 2020, Dr. Fauci's work demonstrated his value of individuals, their self-worth, and a belief that we can do better for each other and ourselves. So it's no surprise that given the opportunity, he elevated Dr. Kizzmekia Corbett, a Black woman who was a key scientist behind the COVID-19 vaccine. Even though this action reflected Dr. Fauci's character, it was still significant in a field where women and minorities are under-represented. Black women are dehumanized by many in our country, including the soon to be former President trump.

Embracing diversity and having the most qualified and imaginative people working on your team is a reality in many different places. If this model worked to develop the COVID-19 vaccines, it could work for every workplace in America. 

 

 

Parenthood: Week 402 – 20 Moments Of 2020: Part 1

As 2020 comes to a close, I wanted to somehow talk about what happened and what this year has meant to me. After a couple of weeks of thinking, I've settled on the twenty most impactful, emotional, and meaningful moments of the year. One of my goals with this blog to put more beauty, joy, and love on the internet, which so full of cruelty and callousness. However, it seems disingenuous this year to only focus on the good. So I will talk about difficult moments, and I'm not going to twist every entry into having a "silver lining" because there isn't always good that comes out of bad. Sometimes creating the meaning of tragedy can feel like gaslighting because sometimes, sadness is nothing more than loss. 

 

20. When Super Me Becomes Super We

DC Super Hero Girls was my favorite show that my sons got obsessed with this year. It's a show that is everything that many superhero films and shows are not. It is funny, made for children, not focused on patriarchal ways of conflict resolution (e.g., fighting), and is racially diverse. It embraced teenage drama without stereotyping teenage girls and uses DC mythology to tell stories that creative, relationship-focused, and funny. It's a modern show that deals with tough issues. One of my favorite episodes has to do with cyberbullying, and it was addressed very well, and like all of the episodes were more about empathy than superpowers. 

 

It's the only superhero show or film that I feel is appropriate for their ages (seven-years-old, and three-year-old), and it was really wonderful to share my own love of DC Comic through this show.

Over the summer, Ollie earned DC Super Hero Girl dolls with his sticker chart for school work and chores. There were some adorable moments of Ollie and Ethan playing with these dolls and observing Ollie comb their hair as Diana taught him.

Superheroes can be for adults, and they can be dark and gritty. Superheroes, as portrayed in DC Super Hero Girls, should also be young children and be colorful, fun, and feminist. 

 

19. Lucas' Curly Hairs

It was heart-breaking when my mom wrote to me in an email, "we can't touch Lucas's curly hairs yet. "

After months of hope, lots of research, my parents had decided that we would not see each other this fall. This conclusion and the loss that would continue from so much time apart felt even sadder when thinking about Lucas' hair.

One of the wonderful things about having bi-racial children is that you can never be quite sure what you will get when it comes to hair. Lucas was born with hair like my other two sons, but what surprised us is as it grew longer, curls starter to develop. Little ringlets from on top of his head and the side of his head around his ears. It's super cute and something that is uniquely Lucas.

The last time I saw my parents was last December when Lucas was born, and they will likely not see him again until the summer. Effectively they will have missed out on being there for the first year of his life.

There are so many moments and changes that they have only experienced from afar.

There are so many things I love about Lucas. Every night right before I go to bed, I check on him. I tell him that I love him, and I gently feel the curls in his hair. It's a reminder of all that is magical and wonderful about this child and what my parents are missing.

My parents will hold Lucas, feel his curls between their fingers, and he gazes up at them, smiling.

It makes me sad to think that it can't happen now, but I am hopeful, knowing that it's only a matter of time.

 

18. Child COVID-19 tests

First, it was Lucas, not even one-year-old, sitting in the back seat of our mini-van, fussing and crying as we waited for his turn to get his COVID-19 test. There were no appointments, and the wait was much longer than predicted by the front desk staff. I wasn't sure what to do. Ethan was hungry, and I had no food for him. I'll never the look on his face as he cried while we waited.

Then it was Ethan. This time we got an appointment, but it was a long drive. The people were great, and they did the best they could. However, it was scary for Ethan as two people in full PPE gear reached into the car. One of them help his arms down and his head still, while the other stuck the swab in his nose. I'll never forget his scream as they took his sample.

Both of my children were negative on their COVID-19 test and tested as a precaution, not because of known exposure.

The stress of waiting for your child's COVID-19 test results is a horrible experience that parents all across America have suffered through.

Yes, I am grateful that we could get my children tested and have the peace of mind that they did not have COVID-19. However, the challenges of COVID-19 testing for children are real and, in many places, are still left unaddressed.

Many people in power in America do not prioritize the needs of children. That much has always been clear. In 2020, people's lack of determination to do what is best for our nation's children led to dire consequences. If we don't care to make testing easy and accessible to children, it's no surprise that schools have failed to get needed resources while the number of children who do not have enough food to eat continues to skyrocket.

Year 11 – Week 15: The Other Side Of Student Teaching

During the pandemic, remote and in-person, in schools and homes across America, school continued. Even though many students have experienced incalculable trauma, unfulfilled potential, and the loss of school itself, others experienced the rhythms of the school year, different in many ways, but felt deeply nonetheless. First-year teachers struggled through their work, while master teachers began their retirement year. Students nervously met new teachers while enthusiastically reunited with friends after a summer apart. And college students began the most important part of their teacher education: student teaching. 

This year I took on a role as a student teaching mentor for the first time in my sixteen-year teaching career. One reason for this is that while there are student teachers at my school periodically, it's not very common. Also, I felt like I wanted to have a solid hold on my craft and my work at this school to allocate time and energy away from other responsibilities to being a good student teaching mentor. Last spring, when I agreed to take on a student-teacher, it seemed like 2020-2021 would be a great time to have a student-teacher. I wasn't planning on taking any leaves, I felt good about my position in my school, and I knew it was long overdue that I gave back and did right by my amazing student teaching mentors and pay it forwards.  

When I interviewed the then prospective student teacher last February, I had no idea what the following months would bring. She came in for an interview, and it went really well, and I was happy to bring her on board. I submitted the paperwork to make it official on March 11th, two days before my school closed, and went remote on March 13th, which was the beginning of the pandemic experience for me. 

I didn't really think too much about having a student-teacher that spring. Last spring, I was focused on the present, and maybe a week ahead.  The next school year was not on my radar.  

Knowing what I knew as things rolled out unpredictably, we just moved forward in the next couple of months. My student teacher and I had a couple of excellent phone meetings, and we were moving along.  

On August 3rd, I got an email from one of the professors at my student teacher's university. Basically, they gave me an out. I always knew that having on a student-teacher was taking a chance. A great student teacher is a partner who teaches the mentor as well and enriches the educational experience for everyone involved. A bad student teacher is a burden that can create extra work and stress for the mentor teacher. I made a commitment to her, and no matter how difficult the fall was going to be, I didn't want to let her down. So I decided that I would let her decided how we would proceed. With all the uncertainty and lack of information I could give her, she said she wanted to move forward, so I emailed the professor that we would proceed as planned. 

There's a lot I can about having a student-teacher. I may go into it more later; I may not. What I will say now is that this experience was one of the most rewarding I've had as a teacher. What originally was going to an eight-week placement became a sixteen-week placement because things were going so well. And I can't imagine making it through this past fall, one of the most challenging periods of my teaching career, without such a wonderful partner.

Parenthood: Week 401 – Butterfly On The Cheek

Would you have any issue with your son getting a butterfly painted on his cheek? 

One set of parents did. 

Diana shared this Twitter thread with me recently, in which a face painting artist tells the story of a boy who wants a butterfly on his face, and his parent resists this request, and have him get a skull instead. 

I've been thinking a lot about this and trying to figure out why the parents wouldn't allow their son to express himself through a less typically masculine marking of a butterfly.  

It's too simple to say that they are explicitly promoting sexism or that they are willfully promoting toxic masculinity, and they are horrible people because there is a chance that these parents are acting out of love.  

One of the most effective and insidious ways people made Gay try to be straight was to be convinced that they didn't have a future and wouldn't be loved.  

Unfortunately, this strategy worked, as demonstrated in this heartbreaking clip from Rocketman.  

 

This is one reason why the It Gets Better Project was so effective. It proved this narrative wrong and showed young people that there was a future, there was family, and there was love for Gay people.  

 

While we've made progress, our culture is still filled predominately with images of male success, and happiness is based on traditional gender roles: athletes and businessmen. Yes, there are exceptions, but they are exceptions. Parents want their sons to be successful, and many of them are just trying to get their sons to the success that culture shows them, which doesn't include butterflies painting on boys' faces.  

Raising a son and letting them explore masculinity in gender non-conforming ways is believing that defining their individuality against gender stereotypes will help them learn to love themselves. Not being a traditional "man" in America likely means that you will feel left out, that you feel lonely, and that you have to work harder to find acceptance. Because sometimes it is the choice. Have your son be themselves and not play football with the other boys, or tell them to compromise to appear to have a group of friends. 

We need to think about the men who are successful in a different way. We need to look at people like Joe Biden, who demonstrate that success as a man is about elevating others and expressing strength, not through aggression but empathy. We need to elevate men those successful despite their masculine gender non-conformity for more of our sons to be successful because of their genuine expression of who they are beyond the false binary of gender roles. And we need to acknowledge, name, and deconstruct the fears that so many have of the perceived sadness and lack of a future a boy may have if they want a butterfly painted on their cheek by being themselves.  

Our sons are destined to be haunted by our unresolved trauma due to the ideas of masculinity in our culture if we cannot break the destructive masculinity. 

Our sons can show us how to let them explore their gender expression if we let their joy be a greater guide than our comfort.  

And our sons deserve to have the freedom to love themselves and not face the loneliness that is so often accompanied by truly being themselves.  

This is all a lot harder to do than it appears, so yes, those parents really should have let their son have a butterfly on his cheek, but maybe they need empathy, more than scorn to understand better how to be better parents.

Year 11 – Week 14: Who I Am?

This week is usually one of the most stressful of the year. It's typically the week before the JK-5 winter performance and the choir concert. Even though I've done these performances for years, each time this week has come around, it's been filed seemingly endless amounts of work, anxiety, and stress. More than all of that, it's a week full of possibility, excitement, and hope.  

This year, this week has felt, like, well, just another week. We have no performances next week. We are putting together a video that features student work that will be shared, but the bulk of that work was done weeks ago. There is a feeling that winter break is coming but not a rush of excitement that comes from events, but rather a sense of finality that comes with time.  

I've been prepping for a performance week for every year for the past 12 years, except for last year when I was on leave for the birth of my third son Lucas. Like last year, in a way, it's nice to not have the stress of these performances during this time of year. This time of year is usually so difficult because my role as a teacher gets more time consuming while there, I need to spend time preparing for holiday events.  

Now, I don't have that extra stress and extra work, and it has allowed me to enjoy the holiday season more with my family. This is a nice change, but that doesn't mean that I want it to be like this next year.  

So many music teachers are trying to figure out how to feel about their work without public performances to prepare for. The absence of these events, and this pressure, allow for a significant opportunity to reflect on what is most important, most meaningful about our jobs as teachers and our lives as individuals.  

What if this was teaching for me moving forward? Would I still love teaching if there no more performance? Would I find the work of being a music education exciting and satisfying without the ebb and flow of stress of performance preparation anxiety?  

You know, I have left behind things in my life that were more exciting in some ways. I used to be a performer. I've sung choral masterpieces with a full orchestra in front of a packed audience. I used to be a conductor. I led a university basketball band, screaming out directions over thousands of fans, molding sound with my arms, hands, and my force of will. I used to be a composer, and collaborate with musicians, and put on concerts. I don't do any of these things anymore, and right now in my life, I don't miss them...most of the time.  

I miss putting students on stage and helping them perform, but it's not the most important thing to me as a teacher or a person. At some point, I'll move on from this work and find another way to challenge myself. Right now, I have more thinking to do because this school year has forced me to ask the ever-evolving question, "who am I?" In this quiet moment, with my life as a teacher so different than it has been in years past, it is clear that I am less sure of my answer to that question than I want to admit to myself.

Parenthood: Week 400 – 12/7/20

Remote Learning 

Ollie is in the third week of remote learning. His school switched from in-person learning to remote learning the week before Thanksgiving break. It has been going a lot better than the remote learning experience we had last Spring.  

The school is much more organized than the school Ollie was at last year. A web page that the school maintains has a clear schedule, Zoom links, and is updated regularly. The teachers do a great job managing the Zooms and maintaining good and reasonable norms for remote-learning. 

It is clear that his teachers worked very hard to establish a strong, positive, and caring classroom community during the time they were on campus. This carries across to his calls, which is evident in the joy Ollie has in starting his morning Zoom, and the laughter and engagement I overhear in his contributions to class discussions.  

In the afternoon, I can tell that he is drained from the online work, and I’m trying to remind myself to give him extra patience during his time away from in-person school. It’s hard being on Zooms so much, and he’s trying really hard to make it work. I’m proud of Ollie for giving this remote learning his all, and I’m thankful for his schools and his teachers for inspiring Ollie to stay engaged. 

 

The Video

I recently saw a video posted online of an adult who has unilateral hearing loss like Ethan. She talked about what it was like being raised by parents who didn’t talk slower for her, who didn’t give her the space to enter conversations, who didn’t help her understand that her frustrations were due to the challenges of her disability.  

The first time I watched the video, I had to stop because I could feel the rush of emotions coming over, and I knew at that moment that I didn’t have it in me to process this video.  

Later, when I watched the video, I was crushed. 

Look, I know that I’m a great dad to Ethan. I am patient and loving. But I also sometimes forget that he has a disability. A memory came to me as I watched this video. I asked Ethan in the morning quickly from the kitchen, “do you want milk or chocolate milk?”  

Ethan answered me from the other room, “milk.” When I brought him his milk, he said he wanted chocolate milk, and I got frustrated that he didn’t tell me this when I first asked. I felt horrible that I was frustrated with Ethan when he didn’t tell me what he wanted when I initially asked because he couldn’t hear me clearly.  I was in the other room, and I was talking too quickly.  

I’m glad that I don’t see Ethan’s disability as the central part of his identity. At the same time, I do need to remember he needs me to make accommodations for his needs, all of the time. It feels horrible knowing that I’ve made mistakes, and I don’t think that’s a bad thing. 

Talking a little bit slower and making sure you are in the same room as your child so that they don’t have to work to understand is not too much to do for Ethan to feels more loved and develop a more profound love for himself.

Year 11 – Week 13: Goal Setting Statement 2020

As part of my evaluation process, I was asked to write a goal setting statement.  Here is an abridged version of my statement.

The answer came to me last June: My goal for the 2020-2021 school year was to take care of myself so that I would be around for the 2021-2022 school year. As hard as the 2020-2021 school year was going to be, I knew that things would not revert to "normal" the following school year, and with the crisis would come an incredible opportunity to rebuild. 

Since last June, I've come to realize that "take care of myself" is more than eating well, getting enough sleep, and engaging in other self-care practices. "Taking care of myself" also meant engaging in the work that I am privileged to have in my life right now. 

Parker has allowed me to go to sleep at night, knowing that time away from my family was work that will improve my students' lives and my own family's future. I teach lessons that deliberately work to create empathy deal with issues of racism to contribute to a world where Black Lives Matter. I am helping my students be more active and critical participants in discussions so that they will see through lies and speak out against the oppression of others, which will help prevent political crises in the future.  

This work is stressful, it's hard, and it's complicated, but it also makes me feel whole and powerful.  

Taking care of myself is a goal that leads me to think about how I can make my work meaningful and relevant for my students so that my time is spent engaging in work that lifts my spirit and brings me pride.  

This school year, I can't teach singing or wind instruments, so I have to modify the previous curriculum and come up with new units. Also, I'm teaching fourth grade for the first time in my teaching career. Even though many of the lessons and the units are new, the values and the philosophy behind my teaching hasn't changed. We are still helping students develop their individual voice through music and help them develop different facets of their identity by having them explore windows and mirrors in music.  

During in-person learning, my goal has been to focus on the joy of music and community. There's been a lot of dancing, varied projects, and space for students to explore what they love about music in their own lives.  

Distance learning has provided great opportunities for learning in different ways. I have been focusing on music class, feeling like screen time. Projects like when students listen to music and create comic books to tell the song's story are ways for music class to have less time for screen time and more about their own creativity.  

It's work that is right, it's work that I do with others, and it's work that is good.  

I spend all my time as a teacher trying to help people, and I spent my professional time around people doing the same thing, trying to help people. In this time of trauma, turmoil, and tragedy, what an awesome thing it is to spend my time helping people and be around wonderful people who want to do the same thing.  

I'm taking care of myself, so I'll be around next school year. I see now that an important part of this is how I care for others this school year, and while I am anxious about the challenges ahead, I am comforted knowing that I don't have to face the future alone and that there will be pride at the end of this journey.