Parenthood: Week 490 - The First Week Of School

The start of the school year means a lot of different things to parents and their children, especially in the past couple of years of this pandemic. 

It's complicated.  

The start of a school year is a fresh start. If things didn't feel right or didn't end poorly in the previous school year, now is a chance to make things better. But, on the other hand, if something was great in the last year of school, there's fear that it might not feel that good again. Add into all this the fact that the beginning of the school year for the past couple of years has been filled with the anxiety of not knowing what the school year was going to be like to the pandemic has made it hard as a parent to know how to feel.  

I think about my children and how different their experiences of starting school have been. Ollie was chill about returning to school, but he started reacting to the newness and anxiety of it all toward the end of the week. Ethan, my second child, was pretty good once school started. However, the week before school started, he was a mess and expressed his fears and anxiety by being difficult and cranky. Lucas, our little one, got into the week okay, and I bet the second week will probably be harder as he slowly gets into the groove.  

I think about my hopes for my children this school year. I want them to learn stuff, but more than anything else, I want them to continue to grow as curious learners. I want school to be where they feel excited to learn and explore and feel the support of teachers and peers as they engage in work that they find meaningful.  

We try to understand what school is like for our children, but it's really hard. school has changed a lot since our childhood. Our lens as adults often fails to see and feel our children's experiences, but we do the best we can with the seemingly little information we get about what our children do in school.  

Going from having your child be a baby when you know what they are doing and experiencing the vast majority of the time to having your child be away from you for most of the day is a transition that all parents go through but is challenging to process. I don't know what they are doing for a good amount of the day, and I wonder. Part of me wishes I could be with them more, but I also know that it is good for them to have a life away from me and their own experiences.  

Part of how I process the start of the school year for my children is mixed up with the fact that I'm a starting school too. One of the ways that I process the school year is by not making a big deal out of it. This is a way that I deal with my anxiety and the fact that the start of school is, in fact, a big deal to me after all these years. Maybe I should lean into how momentous the start of the school year is for my children and myself.  

My first day with students is tomorrow. I'm not nervous, but I am excited. I want a chance to start fresh, and I've got some good stuff from last year. So maybe I'll remind my students of this: you can start fresh this year and take the good part of last year along with you. You can and should have both.

How I Came To Believe In Women's Right To Choose

I don’t remember conversing with my parents about abortion growing up. However, I remember many things that my parents taught me about women and other moments in my life that led to my belief that all women are entitled to the right to free, legal, accessible, and safe abortions. 

My father has never been a controlling husband. He never monopolized the dinner table conversations or the television. I don’t remember any moments when he lectured my mom. However, I do remember them talking over decisions all of the time, and at moments when my dad would get understandably upset, my mom worked through these moments with my father as an equal partner.  

The older I got, the more I noticed that not all couples were like this. In high school couples, with my extended family and my friend’s parents, I saw guys condensing to and being domineering to their female “partners.” Even as a high schooler, I could tell that the women in these situations were uncomfortable, and it wasn’t right.  

As I became more aware of abortion, it never occurred to me that a woman wouldn’t get to make a choice. My dad didn’t make choices for my mom, and I saw how my mom made choices in her life. It just didn’t compute why women couldn’t decide what was best for their bodies and their lives.  

I grew up without the influence of any organized religion. I had no messaging coming to me about how there were “commandments” or a moral code of how I was supposed and what was right and wrong. Instead, I had parents who taught me to see other people as human beings and to be kind to myself and others.

I remember my dad being telling me once that he was frustrated that a friend told him that he was somehow less than others because he didn’t attend church. I thought at that moment: here is a person who immigrated to another country, learned another culture and another language and was successful in many ways, financially and beyond.  

My dad lived his life well and is living proof that you can be successful in America without exploiting other people and while being kind to others. I realized that any assertion that my dad is less moral because he didn’t go to church was garbage. So I decided at the moment that I am never taking any religious doctrine at face value as being moral. If Christians can be wrong about slavery, they can be wrong about abortion. So when a high school classmate told me that abortion was wrong because it went against Christian teachings, it meant nothing to me. I replied, “well, I’m not Christian, and I don’t need Christianity to tell me what’s right or wrong.”  

One of the most influential books in my life is “Dead Man Walking.” I read it junior year in high school. The work of Sister Helen Prejean showed me the best of Christianity and taught me how to see humanity in what people view as the “worst among us.” The book is about her time working with people on the death row and her advocacy against the death penalty. His experiences and arguments have stuck with me for over twenty years, and I have never wavered in my belief that the death penalty should be abolished.  

There was a moment in class when we discussed this book, and it hit me. “How could Christian-identified people be pro-life and also pro-death penalty? That is a moral inconsistency. This must not be about saving fetuses.” I didn’t understand years later that the pro-life movement was about political power and dehumanizing and controlling women, but I knew at that moment that this wasn’t about saving lives. Don’t forget. Legal abortions used to have bi-partisan support. The first governor to sign a bill protecting women’s right to abortions was Republican Ronald Reagon.  

At this moment on this day, when Roe Vs. Wade has been overturned, I’m reflecting on my journey because only by understanding our past can we move forward with purpose and clarity. Also, I want to ensure that my children understand and respect the humanity of women and their right to abortion. I’m not going to talk to my 4-year-old about abortions, but I can do as my father did and demonstrate daily how I value women.  

For a meaningful reflection on this day and the path forward, I'll leave you with Senator Warren, who as always is empathetic, wise, and a has plan...

Year 12: Week 32 -...Used To Be Mine

It felt like almost every second, I was busy today at work. 

There were timely things that got in the way of things that I wanted to do. There was barely time to take a break or relax. Some of this was because of extra duties I chose, but things get complicated. When you choose to do extra, sometimes extra becomes what is expected.  

It wasn’t always this way.  

During my first teaching job, I felt overwhelmed by the basic duties of my job as a high school band director. I struggled to teach my classes and feel successful at this core part of my job. I wasn't on any committees, and I didn’t do any extra-curricular activities that weren’t directly part of my band teaching duties. I didn’t have the freedom to innovate, and it didn’t matter how hard I worked. I was a square peg trying to fit into a round hole, and there were no one invested in trying to make this work for me.  

My second teaching job as an elementary teaching assistant was a dramatic change for me. There were no extracurricular activities. I had no planning to do, as I followed a scripted curriculum, which was very effective for my students' needs. This was a really fun job. I learned a lot as a teacher, and I also had break time to chill and have fun with other teachers and assistants. My job ended when I left work, I never stayed late, and things felt balanced. There wasn’t space for me to innovate, but I didn’t mind because I felt successful and valued at my job.  

When I got into my current job, I quickly felt borderline overwhelmed. I was teaching grades I had never taught before and middle school band, which I had never taught before, besides student teaching. I didn’t have a lot of curriculum to use, so I came up with units and lessons. I could have just stayed with that level of work and gotten comfortable with it, but I didn’t. 

There were many opportunities for me to get involved in this school differently. There were committees, leadership roles, and many people interested in collaborating. So I took on more. I got on the committees, became music department chair, and later became a DEI co-chair. I worked on different projects with administrators, staff, and other faculty. And every year, I try something new and different. And every year, I had moments where I was at the edge of what I could handle.  

Why don’t I do less and relax in my job? Maybe it's my need to fulfill the model minority myth and be seen by others as perfect at doing everything. Perhaps it’s because I feel like it’s a way to prove that I am tough and hardworking as my parent. And maybe it’s an attempt to address my personal feelings of insecurities and imposter syndrome. The thing is that I enjoy the extra stuff I do, and I am good at it. I pushed myself and done more and done it well because that’s what I do.

I want to be that remarkable guy who can handle these things. If I’m not, I just a teacher, which should be enough. Maybe it’s not bad thing want to be more than that, but that leads to weeks like this.  

I love the work that I do, but something feels out of balance right now. I wonder what I'm trying to prove because here's the thing, the approval I'm looking for, may never come, so I got to find something else on the inside.

10 Moments Of 2021: Part 4 - The Vaccine

1. The Vaccine

When I think back at the most emotional moments of 2021, most of them are all related to the same thing: the COVID-19 vaccine. 

The vaccine changed the pandemic from something that felt insurmountable to something that we could handle. The vaccine made my job as a teacher feel more reasonable, it meant that I could finally see my parents, and it meant that my wife and my son were much less likely to be tragic statistics.

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I signed up as soon as my school sent out the email for vaccine appointments. My school coordinated vaccines appointments for everyone in our community, and I was fortunate to get one on a Tuesday morning before my classes started.

The actual moment of getting the vaccine was unremarkable. I did see some of my colleagues in line and waved to them as I headed to my car. I sat in my car, trying to process what had just happened. I had learned in this pandemic to hope for the best and not to believe things would happen until they happened.

I didn’t tell my mom that I had made the appointment. I didn’t want to get her hopes up just in case something happened. Now that I had the shot in the arm, and it happened, she was the first person I wanted to talk to. It’s hard to know how difficult it was for her knowing that I had been teaching in person for the entirety of the fall and early winter. I hated the idea that my job was causing stress and anxiety to my family. So I called her. Close to tears, I told her I got my shot. She was happy for me, relieved, and told me to take care of myself and watch out for side effects.

My mom was not as emotional as I was over the phone, and in a way, this was helpful. She responded to me getting the vaccine as something pragmatic, something that I would, of course, do. This was an affirmation of what she believed would happen. For me, it was a promise made true.

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Unsurprisingly, many were hesitant to get the vaccine. Sick and demented individuals played on this fear to make more money and consolidate power, most of whom were vaccinated themselves. The vast majority of anti-vax advocates are Republicans. Their lack of care for their constituents was a sad reminder that they were willing to sacrifice, even their supporters if it meant they could get reelected.

I wish I could say that these people didn’t get to me, but they did. I have raged, sworn at, and felt great anger at those Americans who are holding us back by refusing to get the vaccines. Do I still have hope in humanity? Yes, but after seeing the cruelty of the past year, I’m beginning to think that cruelty is our nature and that kindness is what is truly extraordinary. 

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I watched my colleagues getting booster shots in the school gym, some from parent volunteers who are health care professionals. I knew that some of my colleagues had side effects from previous COVID-19 vaccinations shots, like mine or worse, but they were lining up to get their boosters.

After getting a COVID-19 booster, I sat there talking to another teacher. As my colleagues lined up in front of us, it felt nice to see all of us doing the right thing. That evening the side effects started and the following day. I felt awful. I was achy, and I felt hungover for three days. After I got my second shot, it was far worse. It took me a week to get over that shot.

Other colleagues had far worse side effects from the first two shots, but that didn’t stop them from getting their booster shot. Some of them got rough side effects from the booster, but that didn’t make them bitter.

We decided to come back to get the booster shot for ourselves, our families, and our students. We know that the short-term pain and inconvenience are worth making the school safer. And we see that getting to a point where our students can experience school with fewer mitigations that hinder their social, emotional, and academic learning is worth the short-term pain.

I am proud of my colleagues for doing the right thing, the parent volunteers for helping, and my school for hosting a booster clinic for the faculty and the community.

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People with children have experienced the pandemic very differently than people without children. For example, early in the pandemic, some without children worked from home and binged watched Netflix, while people struggled to help their children with remote learning. At the same time, they tried to remote work, working late into the night and being woken up by their children early in the morning. Similarly, the lack of vaccines for children was felt very differently by those with children.

While some people hadn’t even gotten one shot, many Americans had reached their third shot, and many more were desperately waiting for the COVID-19 vaccine to be available for children. The fear parents had of their children getting COVID-19 was genuine and felt by many, including myself.

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When I turned on the car and picked the NPR app on my phone, the news immediately came up. The FDA had cleared emergency use of the COVID-19 vaccine for 5-12 years olds. I immediately felt myself getting emotional. I knew all along since the beginning of the pandemic that my children were not the ones at high risk of getting COVID-19 and dying from this virus, but still, I worried. So we were careful. It doesn’t matter how low the risk is of your child being hospitalized due to COVID-19 when it’s your child. And I did know that this vaccine meant that risk would drop dramatically for my child.

I sat in my car in my school parking lot after a stressful day at work, feeling the sunlight on my face. This important step, young children having to have vaccines, meant that my child would be much safer. More than that, it was one step closer to all the children in the world being able to take masks off and return to experiencing childhood as it should be. Every day, I am reminded of what our children are losing due to necessary COVID-19 mitigations.

I had just gotten my COVID-19 booster shot, and soon my son would get his. I thought to myself, “we are going to be okay.”

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Getting the COVID-19 vaccine is an of self-love and also love for others. Like voting, getting a vaccine is a patriotic act that dramatically impacts society when we all participate but has less meaning if only a few take action. The COVID-19 vaccine results from generations of scientific achievement by scientists and researchers. We make meaningful these people's work and their gifts to us by taking the vaccine.

The vaccine was a reflection of people’s selfishness and their selflessness. Oppressors used the vaccines to harm others, and many felt oppression through how the vaccine was distributed. While the COVID-19 vaccine was one of our most outstanding achievements, there is shame in how some dealt with vaccines.

As we choose who to hire, who should lead, and who we spend time in our lives with, we can find reflections of their character in whether they got the vaccine, as they were physically able to do, and how they talked about the vaccine to others.

2021 was the year we had the power to make choices to change the course of the pandemic, the course of our lives, and the lives of others. The vaccine gave us power, greater freedom and a brighter future.

Parenthood: Week 453 - Lucas is Two!

Lucas turned two years old last week.

Lucas' life has been very different from Ollie's and Ethan's. Even though he wasn't born during the pandemic, I think of him as a pandemic baby; he was born only a couple of months before it hit. As a result, he has spent most of his life living in his pandemic. His world is filled with people wearing masks, a smaller village, and a lot of time at home.

Ollie and Ethan experienced things by age two that Lucas hasn't. Lucas has missed trips, family gatherings, live theater, group music class, and many other things. What he does have that Ollie and Ethan didn't was more time at home and two wonderful older brothers. Even though this doesn't really make up for what was lost, it's a meaningful benefit to Lucas's life.

Lucas is adorable. This morning, I found him in our bed, sleeping when I left for work. He had somehow managed to settle in the space between his two pillows with his arms up around the sides of his head. Because of the proportions of his body, the top of his hands barely reached the top of his head. It was super cute.

Last week, along with turning two years old, Lucas decided that he would talk more. He's been saying more sounds in the past couple of days, and it's wonderful. There is so much joy when he says something, and he can tell we understand what he is saying. He has a little growl which he learned from Ethan, but he also has a higher voice that is cute and gentle.

Lucas has entered the climb on every stage, so I'm having to pull him off the table more often and off of the top of the couch. His fast toddler walk is pretty close to a run. The best part is that he often provides his sound effects by screaming while he runs or making a motorboat sound with his lips when he moves quickly.

All my sons are special for different reasons. Ollie was first. I learned how to be a dad with him. Everything was new with him, and everything was an adventure. He's my sweet boy who changed my life forever. Ethan was the challenge. From his first diagnosis with hearing loss to the fact that he was challenging to put to bed tonight, he was the one who has required more. He has shown me that I have more to give, and I have so much to learn.

Lucas is my reminder. He reminds me to slow down and read a book with him. He reminds me of what Ollie and Ethan were like as babies, which warms my heart in moments of frustration. He reminds me that the simple things in life bring the most joy. And his smile reminds me that I am enough.

I'm looking forward to Lucas' life being more defined by a time after this pandemic. As he grows every day, I will cherish the milestones and the small moments, nd I can't wait to see the wider world through his eyes.

Happy Birthday, Lucas. Thank you for being my sunshine in the darkest of times.

Year 12 – Week 11: Feeling Inadequate

When you are teaching a group of students show to sing or play an instrument, sometimes your assessment of how they sound and are progressing can be distorted. 

Sometimes it's because you are listening for something in particular when you teach, so you miss the forest for the trees. Other times you aren't listening carefully, and you miss things because you are focusing on classroom management or the next part of the lesson.

This is why it's really helpful sometimes to get a guest teacher to come in and work with your students so you can sit back and really focus on listening and assess where your students are at, without worrying about being an active teacher.

Sometimes observing your students while someone else is teaching can be inspiring and affirming, and other times it can be distressing.

This week I brought in a colleague to work with my students. She is an educator and a professional singer. At this point in the unit, I felt that my students needed different energy in the music room, and I needed some ideas on how to get my students to move to the music and encourage them to sing with more confidence.

I'm sitting there behind the piano, hearing some really good things from some of my classes. Because I wasn't leading classes, I focused on each student, and it was interesting to see how they were singing. Most of the types were doing some really good work, and I felt that I saw signs of the work I was doing in the students' progress.

Then there was that one class. They didn't sound like how I thought they would. To be clear, this was more about my misperceptions than anything the students were doing wrong. They were singing softer than I thought they would and were very timid. Were they like this in previous classes, and I hadn't noticed? Most likely. Why didn't I see this?

At that moment, I felt inadequate as a teacher. This is a feeling that all teachers know well. Typically, it happens less and less as teachers get more experience. While this is true with me, teaching during the pandemic brought this feeling back in full force as I struggled to figure out how to teach in the worst of times.

Along with this feeling comes reflective questions—some less productive than others. I felt bad that I was letting my students down, that I should know better how to help the students be better singers, and doubted that I could move them along. I tried to push this aside with evidence from past performance that I was, in fact, a competent teacher. It's hard in that space when there is a tension between what is and what you thought was there. 

This experience reminded me that, in some ways, I'm a much more insecure teacher than I want to acknowledge and that I still have a lot to figure out.  There was plenty of good that I saw this week, and I will try to let that excite me as I take the time to figure out how to do better for my students.

Year 12 – Week 9: Taking a Sick Day

I remember hearing early in my teaching career that the most important thing you can do to take care of your students is to take care of yourself. If you are sick, then you can’t be there for your students. I have said this other teachers throughout my teaching career, but I got to be honest. There are many times I haven’t followed this advice.

I can think of numerous occasions in my teaching career when I came to work sick or stayed at work when I was starting to get sick. I remember one instance coming in and teaching when I was so congested that I could barely talk, let alone sing, but I came in anyway.

Why?

Some teachers like to show that they are tough. This manifests in teachers showing off their “teacher voice” and refusing to use a microphone, teachers staying working late, and probably worse of all, powering through being sick and coming to school.

You often hear teachers bemoan that “it’s harder to create sub plans than coming in and teaching.” Some schools have very unforgiving sick day policies. Also, other teachers feel pressure to keep their students moving forward academically and are afraid of lost learning when they are absent.

There have always been risks of a teacher coming in when they are sick. Teachers could get sicker themselves, and one teacher who even has minor symptoms can spread a virus to their many students.

When COVID-19 hit, one of the significant changes in schools was a hard stop in many schools to teachers coming into school sick. This, combined with the higher standard of health to let students come to school meant that I have had to take more days off to be with my children at home.  I have taken far more sick days in the past year than in previous years.

Seeing this coming, I have structured units and included technology in my classes to set up tools so that if I am absent, the students can still engage in productive work. It doesn’t cause me as much stress to take a sick day as it has in the past. Part of it is that often I don’t have a choice and I need to accept sick days as part of my job.

My school won’t let me teach sick even if I tried, but I think the main thing is that the pandemic has finally helped me truly understand that the best way to take care of students is to take care of myself. Showing toughness or having a level of “self-sacrifice” is just ego, and no one is impressed.

Moving forward, if we want to do right by our students and create a healthier school atmosphere, we need to remove barriers for teachers to take sick days and take care of themselves. Talk of self-cares by school leaders is meaningless without structural change that encourages teachers to care for themselves.

There’s been a change in how I think about self-care, and there needs to be a change in how Americans help teachers take care of themselves.

Year 12 – Week 5: Where They Are At

As I watched the chaos of my 5th grader moving to retrieve a pencil, a worksheet, and a clipboard from the front of my classroom, I was baffled. What was going on? It was a mess.

Some students were up in the front of the room looking lost, other students had made it back to their chairs without the worksheet, and other students were taking far too long picking a pencil out of the pencil box. The fact that all of these pencils were brand new and the same made this delay seem even more ridiculous.

This had never happened before with any of my other 5th grader classes.

This year, talking about students as being “behind” and needing to “catch up” is unproductive and ridiculous. Standards for what measures students learning and success were flawed before the pandemic. Now that we are in the thick of the pandemic, calling students “behind” for not doing what students before the pandemic isn't helping build up out students.

At the same time, I fully understand that students have experienced an atypical school for the past two years and that there are things that they haven’t learned and skills they haven't developed.  Students mustn’t feel bad for not knowing things or now knowing how to do something because they are “behind.” It’s not their fault, and we as teachers need to be sensitive to this.

I expected that the students would have challenges singing. This has been true. They are less comfortable singing in a group, aren’t singing as loud, and are learning songs very slowly. I expected that dancing would need work. This has been true. Simple dance moves have been a challenge for the students, so we’ve had re-teach the basics of walking, patting, and clapping to the beat. Last year in music class, we couldn’t sing, and we couldn’t dance around the room. So, the fact that my students need time to develop these skills was perfectly reasonable.

There have been other ways that my students showed me that they need more support. After a school year where they rarely moved around their classroom, it shouldn’t be a surprise that they would need more explicit directions to gather their classroom materials. However, I didn’t see this coming.

Part of being a teacher this year is giving our students space to show us where they are and what they need. Not having a typical school year for two school years will manifest in ways that we expect and ways that will surprise us. The effects of the pandemic on our students will not be fully understood at least a decade from now.

We have to focus on where our students are, help them grow in meaningful ways, and show them a way forward with a supportive hand. Our students didn’t deserve the last two years of school, but they do deserve our best efforts to embrace and celebrate where they are in their lives and let go of where we think they should be.  Only then will be able to help our students focus on who they want to be, and help make this vision a reality. 

Parenthood: Week 438 – The First Day Of School '21

The three of them were actually pretty chill waiting in line.

It was the first day of school for Ollie and Lucas. Ethan had a short visit the day before as part of a phase-in process. However, this felt like the real first day.

Ollie was going to have a half-day this day along with Ethan, and Lucas was going to hang out in the playground just for half an hour with me to get used to being around his class and teachers. Gradually his days would get longer. Ollie and Ethan would have a full school day on the next day.

As the line got moving, Ollie pushed Lucas in the stroller. Sometimes he got distracted and would forget what he was doing and then push the stroller ahead to close the gap. Ethan was quiet and looking around. He can be loud and exuberant, but he can also be calm and observant. Lucas sat in the stroller characteristically relaxed as we slowly made our way to the door.

Last year, Ollie and Ethan were at this school together, but they were dropped off at different doors at slightly different times. So I would drop off one of them and then wait in the car for like ten minutes and drop off the other one.  They were in different parts of the building and different divisions, making sense for them to enter different doors.

This year Ollie and Ethan enter the same door simultaneously, and Lucas is the one who goes to the other door. As we got up to the door, Ollie reached out, and Ethan took his hand, and I kissed them both on the back of the head as they were already on the way up to the entrance, and without looking back, they walked hand in hand into school.

This moment showed a lot.

It showed how much Ethan has grown up.

There were many moments two years, that drop-off was hard.  It was not unusual two years ago for Ethan to cry at drop off.  I remember moments last year, driving away hearing him yelling. I couldn’t bear to look back. So I just drove up trusting in the outstanding faculty helping with drop-off. But today on this first Ethan walked right in without any hesitation.

Because of COVID-19, this school keeps students in pods last year, so Ethan and Ollie rarely saw each other. At some point last year, Ethan said that he thought that he went to a different school than Ollie. I love that walking in together will help them understand that they are part of the same school community.

It can be challenging to make Ethan hold my hand, like when we are in parking lots.  There are moments that Ollie resists helping Ethan. But, on that morning, Ethan reached out and held Ollie's hand, and Ollie, without me asking, chose to help Ethan.

There will be mornings when it doesn’t go this smoothly. Ethan will resist going into the building at some point, and Ollie will not be as helpful sometimes. However, this moment was a wonderful reminder of what Ethan and Ollie can be for each other.

I love the school I send my children to, but the pandemic is still raging, and children are getting sick.   Our country in some ways is still in chaos.  While it is easier to send children to school in some ways compared to last year, it’s still not easy.  A new school year is a challenge for children in the best of times and even though Ollie and Ethan don't understand the full extent of the pandemic, they know that something isn't right. In the face of all of this, I am so proud that they chose to brave with and for each other on that day.

Parenthood: Week 433 - Violin Lessons

Music is a central part of my life. I listen to music every day, and I think about music all of the time. I have performed as a musician throughout my life, and I’m a music teacher.

I love music.

Music was central in building my self-confidence as a very shy child. Music helped me be social and connect with people, which was important as a person who sometimes can struggle to be social.  And music has helped grows my emotional intelligence and is one of the reasons I am empathetic.

Parents want their children to have a full, happy, and beautiful life. One way parents do this is share with their children was has made their lives meaningful and joyful. While some parents go overboard and push too hard for their children to share in their interests, most parents simply want to shares what they love with the ones they love.

Ollie and Ethan did Kindermusik from a young age. I have many fond memories of them dancing around, playing with little shakers, and sharing the joy of music with little ones their age. Unfortunately, because of the pandemic, Ethan has stopped music class, and Lucas hasn’t had a chance to do music class yet.

We have musical instruments around the house. Sometimes they use them correctly like shakers. Other times a hand drum becomes a podium. Ethan loved the idea of using standing on a drum and pretending he was a conductor for a little while there. It was cute except for the fact he kept falling off the drum. Our piano is right there in one of our children’s play spaces, and they all have spent time exploring this instrument. Lucas can reach the keys of the piano from his pack and play. We put him in there when we need him to be safe when we can’t watch.  He often stands up and reaches out and plays the piano when he is in there.

Music is often playing in the car and the house, and I watch music performances and videos with my children. Most of the time, they are exposed to what I’m into at the moment, so that’s why Ollie was a huge Hamilton fan when he was a toddler and why Ollie and Ethan are really into BTS right now.

Recently Ollie started violin lessons. He asked about it last year, but we decided to put it on hold with the pandemic.

I started violin lessons around six years old after my brother, who started around age three, taught me how to play the instrument. So the violin was a big part of my life as a child. It’s weird, I want my children to be musical, but I wasn’t sure about Ollie doing violin for some reason. I don’t know why, but I know that it’s been really wonderful watching Ollie grow as a violinist these past couple of weeks.

I practice with him.  I get out my violin and go through the stuff he was taught in his lesson. I try not to be a “music teacher” when I work with him. I find myself having to bite my tongue and let him make his own mistakes, which is important for his growth. Ollie needs guidance to practice, but if I stop him every time he makes any kind of mistake practice time will become really annoying for him. Kids need to “play” music, and part of "play" is making mistakes. At the same time, I teach him some things every time he practices to empower him to grow. For example, I’ll guide him through working on one line of music at a time as opposed to starting at the beginning and going to the end repeatedly, which generally isn’t very productive. I try to point out specifics he is doing well and moments when he improves. It’s a new experience for me as a musician and a parent, and I’m enjoying it.

I don’t know how long Ollie will play the violin, but I hope that whatever time he spends on this instrument helps him better understand himself and helps him grow.

Now, Ethan is asking to play violin…

This King’s Speech - Part 2

People who speak with an accent, or what some people call “broken English,” have a superpower that many other Americans do not.

They can speak another language.

I understand the xenophobia and racism behind those who mock people who speak with an accent that reveals that they speak another language, but there is no logic to this. People who speak more than one language have a dramatic advantage in the pursuit of making meaningful human connections.  With fewer language barriers, more of the world is open to multilingual people.  This gives them the potential to have a more profound understanding of the human experience.

My parents have that superpower. They speak Mandarin Chinese and English.  They can think in more than one language too and can effortlessly switch between languages mid-sentence.  Also, they can move around in different Chinese dialects and even speak a little Japanese. Even after living in America using English as a language for over forty years, there are words they mispronounce. This isn’t a flaw but a feature of what it means to be bilingual. There is nothing to be ashamed about.

I am not bilingual; I don’t speak Mandarin Chinese. I can understand quite a bit. My parents had me do some work in weekend Chinese school, but they didn’t prioritize this part of my education. They didn’t want me to have an accent. While I know now that more often someone raised in America who learns another language as a child doesn’t develop an accent, I understand my parents’ concerns when I was a child. My parents came to America to be American, and language was one way they felt they could be American. So this was a priority they had for my brother and me.  Having an accent as an immigrant didn't benefit them, so they didn't want this in hinder me. 

When I think about the stumbling around as I speak, and memories and trying to talk and being misunderstood, I know that this is something that my parents have dealt with for most of their adult life. I’ve never heard my parents complain about this, but I’m sure, like racial microaggressions, this is something they have learned to absorb and work through. It may be a minor annoyance one day, but it can take a lot out of a person over forty years. It can take a lot out of life. This is part of their immigrant story, and this is part of my story too.

My parents’ model is probably why I’ve never complained about having a speech impediment. I don’t remember giving my therapist any resistance when I’d pulled from classes to do sessions. This was part of my life. I was aware of other students not needing to go to therapy and sounding “normal.” While peers mocked me for my speech impediment, I felt more left out because I wasn’t as athletic as other boys when I was in elementary school.

In the book “Far From The Tree” Andrew Solomon talks the tension between identity and disability. If someone has a hearing issues that they want to address through a cochlear implant, they see this as a disability. A person who has hearing issues that they do not want to “fix” because they feel included and fluent in the American Sign Language community sees this as part of their identity. What some people view as a disability, other see as an identity.

Right now, I don’t see having a speech impediment as part of my identity. Instead, it is something I want to “fix." However, having this issue has undeniably shaped my identity in a far more positive than negative way.  It has brought me closer to understanding my parents, and...well.  I can't think about another way it has helped me, but it feels like it has.  Clearly, unpacking all of this is a journey, so thanks for riding along on this one. 

More to come...

This King's Speech – Part 1

During my wedding, some of my older family members were surprised to learn that I was a teacher. It wasn't because I was a music teacher. They all knew I was a musician from a young age. That part wasn't a surprise.  They didn't expect me to be a teacher because of my speech impediment.

How could a young boy who very few people could understand grow up to do a job which required him to talk?

In the past thirteen years, I've shared, unpacked, and processed almost every part of my life, from my feeling about masculinity, diversity, race, and puppies. I've talked about my high school day, college days, and life as a teacher. I laid my insecurities bare about being a parent and an American citizen.  However, I've never written about or hinted at a part of my life, a part of my identity that shaped my childhood and impacts my life every day.

I haven't embraced having a speech impediment as part of my journey and my identity. I'm not ashamed of it, but I don't have pride when I think about how I've dealt with this part of my life. I don't think about it most of the day, but there's not a day that I don't. Earlier today, I said a word, and Diana, my wife, said, "what?" hinting at me that she didn't understand what I said. I tried again, it still wasn't clear, so I chose a different word. There was nothing mean in Diana's tone, and I appreciate that she wanted to understand me.  I wanted to be understood, but that word, starting with an "r," I couldn't say clearly at that moment.

When I write speeches, I often edit them when I practice them out loud. My written vocabulary is different than my spoken words. For example, if I were to speak the previous two sentences, I would change them to:

When I compose speeches that I have to give, I often edit them when I say them out loud. This is because the vocabulary I use when I type is different from what I use when I speak.

I do this without thinking for the most part when I talk. After years of trial and error, I have figured out which words I stumble over, which words cause people to ask "what?" and which words have led people to imitate me and mock me. These words I unconsciously avoid as an adult. For the most part, people don't notice because I am gifted with a quick mind, and I have a lot of practice making it through the mine field, spoken language.

Some of this is more in my head. My pronunciation of words is not as bad as I believe it to be, but the negative experiences of childhood cast a shadow that will never entirely go away. I will never fully be free of the doubt I have in my ability to speak.

The thing is that I love public speaking. I have spoken at funerals and weddings. I have given presentations in graduate school and at conferences. I've used the power of my spoken word to persuade and inspire. I've given numerous speeches in front of my school community, often with over nine hundred people. I love speaking to my students and taking them on a journey through my words to other worlds and towards a deeper understanding of themselves.

It didn't always feel this way. I hated the idea of talking in school as a young child, but I always felt comfortable talking to my parents...

Parenthood: Week 426 – Butter

I don't know who needs BTS more, my children or me. 

When I was growing up, I didn't very few representations of Asian and Asian-American men in popular culture. I don't remember watching TV and feeling annoyed that most of the actors were white. What I do remember is being excited about the representation that I did see.

When Dragon: The Bruce Lee Story, a biopic about Bruce Lee, came out, I was really excited to see that film. This film did not disappoint. The fighting was great, but more than that, scenes like this one were a powerful lesson in the harsh realities of racism in America.



At that time in my early teens, I didn't know that this scene was a foreshadow for my own life. I did fall end up dating a white girl too, and she has always been sensitive and a true ally around issues around racism.

Soon after, I saw The Crow and fell in love with this film. I found the stylized production, the awesome fight scenes, and the dark fairytale fascinating.



I don't remember consciously thinking, "Brandon Lee is an Asian-American; that's awesome." However, I remember seeing myself in him in a way that I didn't see in any other actor. I was so into this film that I had this up in the room during my teenage years. 

Brandon Lee was critical in my racial identity development. Here was an Asian-American man who was strong, sexy, in great shape, charismatic, handsome, and talented. He was everything I didn't see in the Asian-American stereotypes that were pervasive in popular cultures and my high school. He was what I want to see and still want to see in myself. Brandon Lee showed me that this was a possibility in me.

I gravitated towards boy bands and male vocal groups. I loved The Backstreet Boys and The Temptations. There was so much backlash among high school boys at the resurgence of boy bands in the late 90s. While I loved this example of masculinity, men who dance and sing love songs, most boys in my high school did not, and they used my interest in this music and music in general as a way to emasculate me. I was called homosexual slurs for liking Nsync, but that wouldn't stop me from enjoying their music. Justin Timberlake looked happy, he had attractive girlfriends, and I loved that he was musical like me. This was a far more appealing way for me to be a man than the way my male peers embraced.

If BTS was around when I was in high school, I probably would have gone all-in for them. I would have done everything in his power to emulate everything about BTS. I would have done my hair liked Jimin, practiced the dances, learned these songs, and tried to dress the part. Like Brandon Lee, BTS is everything people don't typically think about Asian men. They are stylish, dance well, are sexy, and are great singers—pretty much opposite the opposite of Mr. Yunioshi, that horrible character that offended Bruce Lee.

I've been listening to BTS every day since "Butter" came out. It's a great song with intricate production, and the remixes are really interesting. I proudly showed the video to my sons, and they got really into "Butter" as well. I hope that BTS has a positive impact on their racial identity development, and I know for sure that BTS's music and videos are bringing my sons' joy, so that's more than enough for me to be grateful.

The part of me that is a teenager is so overjoyed that the world embraces these proud Asian men.  This is an extraordinary moment in our culture. As I told my students, never before in the history of modern popular culture has a group of Asian men been this popular. It's a wonderful thing for all people, and I'm looking forward to the doors that BTS' success will open for Asian-American men like me and Asian-Asian American boys like my sons: doors to where we can go, and doors to different ways that we can express ourselves.

Year 11 – Week 35: Ending The Year In A Pandemic...Again

Here we are again, trying to figure out how to do closing rituals of a school year during a pandemic.

This isn’t new. Last spring, we were in a similar place. Events like graduations, retirement celebrations, and music concerts all had to change. People moved these events online, others got creative with drive-through graduations, and unfortunately, some events had to be canceled.

Some of these changes had benefits. Virtual events allowed people to participate from almost any location, which led to the inclusion of people who otherwise would not have been able to share in these special moments. And some of these changes led to sadness, as modified events often had technical issues and sometimes could not capture how members of the school community felt in previous years.

We were left with doing the best that we could do by focusing on the positive and being grateful. Even though we had a shadow of what we wish we could have, a shadow was better than nothing.

While so much has changed in a year, many things have not. The vaccination came faster than any of us predicted. Federal and state mitigation recommendations are evolving. We know so much more about this virus and have tools and guidance on creating events that we lacked last spring. We are still in the thick of a pandemic, but we know how to manage it, and the light at the end of the tunnel is brighter than it’s ever been.

We still have to be careful.

The risks are there. We have to continue to make hard choices and what is most important to our community. Now that we can safely do small in-person gatherings, we have to figure out how to make this happen. The path ahead is still filled with unknowns. Being able to do more in-person last year means we have to adapt these events one more time.

In this second spring of school, during a pandemic, while more possibilities open up for events, we have to carefully ask ourselves important questions: What is most important about these events? What can we live without, and what is essential? Who are these events for?

I hope that all of you working hard to bring these meaningful ends of the year events to your school community find moments in work to remember the wonderful students we are serving in our work. It is their spirit and their joy that sustains us, and even when it is daunting.  Success is measured in these moments not in replicated the past, but in small moments of joy, and the satisfaction of knowing  that you did the best that you could in the worst of times.

Year 11 – Week 31: What Being A Parent Has Taught Me About Teaching

There are times when I think about how much easier it would be to handle my job as a teacher if I didn't have children. I'd have so much more time on my hands. I wouldn't be distracted by concerns and thoughts about my children while I was teaching, and I would be free of the constant tension of balancing out my work life and my role as a parent.

I don't remember my life as a teacher being a whole lot easier when I didn't have children. I didn't feel like I had enough time at work, my home life had stress as well, and there was the tension between me wanting to do stuff for work and doing things outside of my work life. In retrospect, this seems silly knowing how much more time I had for myself during those years, but at the time, I didn't appreciate this.

Often, we don't enjoy how much easier life is at a certain moment until that moment is passed and we are in a different life situation.

There are so many things that are hard about being a teacher while having young children of my own at home, but there are also benefits.

Having children has helped me find emotional space from my work and my students. When I was a younger teacher, I put more emotional energy into my relationship with my students. While I still care about them and work hard to get to know them, I'm not invested in them emotionally in a way that I feel that I need reciprocation. Sometimes teachers get too emotionally involved with students, and there were times when I was a younger teacher when things students would say would really hurt my feelings, and it would stay with me all weekend. Now, those things don't stay with me as much. I'm just their teacher. I'm not their parent, and my emotional energy is better served on my children.

Having children has forced me to work smarter. I have less time to focus on work than ever before in my career as a teacher. This means that not everything gets done on my to-do list, and not everything I want to do can be done. Now how is this a good thing? Sometimes teachers try to do too much. As a music teacher who puts on concerts, my own personal ambitions sometimes get mixed up with what is best for my students. When you have less, sometimes doing less for a concert means more of this work is on the students, representing their work more authentically.

When I was a younger teacher, I would make arrangements for most of the songs that I taught. I don't have time to do this anymore. So now I have to use other people's arrangements, and shock and awe, there are many great educators and composers out there who are better than me at making arrangements. My ego has been tempered through the need to rely on other people's work, and that's not a bad thing. Being a great teacher is not about doing everything yourself for your students. It's about creating the best educational experience possible for your students. If that means that you use people's work from a music method book does the job better than you could. Great!

Having children has helped me understand that being that teaching is of the most important jobs in society, and being a teacher is not the most important thing in my life.

My two older children's teachers, including their wonderful therapist, have significantly influenced Ollie and Ethan. Their self-esteem, their love of learning, and the light in their eyes have all been nurtured and have all grown because of their outstanding teachers. I will forever be grateful for all of the teachers who have given so much to my children. Their devotion to my children is inspiring, and an affirmation of all that is good and beautiful in this world. As a parent, I know how important great teachers are to children, families, and the world.

I love being a teacher, and I feel blessed and privileged to be engaged in the wonderful work of educating students, but I'm a father first. I join other fathers like President Obama, who hold their identity as a father ahead of their jobs as being central to who they are as people.

At some point, when I leave my current job, they will hire someone to replace me. No one can replace my role as a father in my children's lives. As we better understand our own lives, we can bring more of our authentic selves to our students, which makes us more effective at the practice of teaching.

Parenthood: Week 416 – Preparing For The Racism In My Asian-American Children's Lives

It’s impossible to fully understand what it means to a parent before you have a child. You can read books and talk to other parents, but there is too much to know, too many experiences to articulate, and too many unknowns. No two children are the same, and even within the same family, parents are different in raising each child.  

You can tell someone how hard it is to watch your child get their first vaccination shot and tell them how hard it is to be up at 2 am trying to rock your baby to sleep. However, none of those things you can prepare for, even if you have the knowledge going in they are going to happen. Parenting is not something you can understand until you do it. It’s like skiing. You can read all books you can find on what it’s like to ski, but unless you are going down that mountain and feeling the wind in your face and how your body controls the fall down that mountain, you have an idea of what it feels like to ski. And until you have that child deep in your heart, you will know what it truly feels like to be a parent.  

I thought before I had kids that I did the good work of setting expectations. I thought through what it would be like if a child of mine were straight if they had special needs, married someone outside of his race, or were gender non-conforming. This is one reason when it became clear that Ethan had a disability, I really wasn’t fazed. There were feelings to work out, but I had thought this through.  

I never thought for a second that my children would be more in danger of Asian-American hate crimes than before they were born.  

I’m worried. It’s only time before someone says something to one of my sons that makes them feel bad about being Asian-American. My two older sons go to a wonderful school that honors their racial identity, but even they can’t prevent all racist comments and micro-aggressions. I’m confident they will do the right thing if something happens, and that is meaningful.  

I’ve been lucky. I haven’t directly been the victim of Asian-American hate speech or an Asian-American hate crime. I have wondered when people have been rude to me in public in the past year if it’s because I’m Asian, but I have no instances when I know that people treated me differently because of my racial identity.  As each day passes, I feel incidences of Asian-American hate more profoundly.

I’ve talked to my wife about what we do if we were in a situation if something racist happened to our family in public. The last time we talked about this was before a trip to Wisconsin. It’s a horrible conversation to have, but it’s essential, and sooner than later, my oldest needs to be part of this discussion. Our general plan is to focus on our safety. I wish I could say that standing up against the hate was part of the plan, but with my children, one who is a one-year-old, I’m not taking any chances.  

I’ve probably been more lenient with my children these past couple of weeks, but that’s okay. Extra hugs and letting some things going isn’t going to cause permanent damage. I know things will get better, but it’s going to take time. A bone may break in a second and can take months to heal.  

There is something very broken in how far too many people view Asian-Americans as sub-human is that is not going to heal quickly and will not ever be healed completely in our country.  It’s hard to be hopeful when racists are killing my people, and we are worried about our own safety and the safety of those they love.  

DeRay Robinson, a civil rights advocate, said of hope:

“The world can be a better place, but we have to make it happen. That hope isn’t magic; Hope is work. When I think about the fuel for most of [my work], for me, it’s deeply rooted in the understanding that this isn’t the only way that the world can be. That God didn’t make earth, man, and white supremacy. That people made this stuff up, [and] because people made it up, we can do something different.”  

I feel too tired to do the work to hope right now, but I’ll get there. In the future, with my children at my side, I’ll see you on the other side.

Year 11 – Week 27: Gratitude In The Face Of Asian-American Hate Crimes

This is a part of an email I sent to my administration team at my school.

Dear administration team,

It’s really difficult to know the right to do in the face of fear, hate, and violence. Even when the path is clear, it is difficult to take the correct actions, find the rights words, and have hard conversations.
I wanted to thank you all for doing the right thing, the hard work this week, in the face of continued violence against Asian and Asian-American people in our country and our community. 

The letter you send out felt comforting, resolute, and reaffirming. Tour words this morning during announcements were what I needed. I found myself sitting in the back of one of the 6th-grade classrooms, clutches my knees up against my chest like a 7-year-old as you talked. I think it was because the way you spoke and the words you chose allowed me at that moment not to have to be a teacher and just feel comforted by another human being who cared. 

One of the most important things that you did for me is what you didn’t do. I did not get one direct email or request for me as an Asian-American in the community to do anything. Last spring, as people in the Black community were traumatized by horrific murders of Black men and women by police officers, some Black people in independent schools were asked to do more when they could not.

I’ve heard stories from Black faculty and staff, who were deep in processing, and feeling great fear and trauma themselves, not ready to talk about these tragedies being asked to teach, write letters, and advise administrators and faculty. I’ve understood on an intellectual level why this was so difficult, and it wasn’t until this week I understood this on an emotional. I am not ready to talk about hate crimes against Asian and Asian-American people with most people, and I am certainly not prepared to speak to students about this. If I had felt pressure to do so earlier this week, I might have had a breakdown.

I’m not sure what I would have done, but I know for a fact I would be in a much worse place than I am right now.

Parker is a place that has nurtured my pride in my Asian-American identity. In Parker employee of color meetings, I found community among other people of color and came to understand the fact that I was too a person of color. Parker’s support for all of the wonderful DEI professional development has helped me be a better educator, and it has helped me see the value of my Asian heritage. Seeing the value that my Asian-American identity brings to Parker, I have learned to understand better how it’s an essential and beautiful part of who I am.

I I wanted to share and bring this out this week to the Parker community in a moment when my expression of Asian-American pride could have an impact on my students. This week just didn’t’ feel like the right time for me to do this, but I know there will be moments in the future. When it feels right for me, it’ll be right for my students.

Last night I had a Zoom meeting with a new Parker parent. She is a new Parker parent whose daughter Katie will be in JK next year. She talked about immigrating to America and wanting to know more about what DEI looked at Parker and how this community could support Katie. She was worried since she didn’t know what school was like in America. I told her about my mom worrying about the same thing when she immigrated from Taiwan. With a smile, I related some of my mom’s struggles with American education and told her how Parker would honor Katie’s heritage and support her. It was a wonderful conversation, and I needed that opportunity this week to be able to share my experience as an Asian-American in my work and have a positive impact.

Richard, one of my closest friends at Parker, asked me how I was doing. I was honest and told that it’s been a tough week and almost took a personal day this week. And I’m glad I didn’t. Being at Parker this week and working is what I needed. I know I’m safe here, I know that I’m protected, and I know I’m valued.

Being at Parker and feeling the support and love has been wonderful, and doing work with my students has reminded me of my value and purpose.

Thank you for all that you’ve done this week for our Asian and Asian-American community members and all that you've done for me.

-Kings

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.