being a teacher, books, Reading, Reading Identity

On “Easy” Books…Again

When we tell a child that a book is Design

I have been thinking a lot about easy books. About our adult urges to steer kids into “better” books, harder books, away from all those easy books. Away from books with pictures, graphic novels, or topics we deem immature.

I have been thinking a lot about our well-meaning intentions and how they sometimes do damage that we are not even around to see because the real consequences of our gentle guidance actually steers a child away from reading altogether.

I have been thinking a lot about the collections of books we build, where our money is used, because often it is not so much into the books that kids actually want to read but the ones we hope they read. And how we then sometimes wonder why no one seems to want to read the books we have.

Why is it that we, the adults, who have the ability to shape the reading lives of our students into beautiful things sometimes get so lost in thinking of the future of our readers that we lose sight of the present? Don’t get me wrong, I want to do the best I can to create rich reading opportunities for all of my students but that also means that they need to want to read right now.

As so perhaps this reminder is more for myself as I feel the pressure to help these children grow as readers, perhaps this post is really just a re-commitment to the words I have spoken for so many years. Perhaps it is a reminder to the universe of what our gatekeeping of books can do for the lives of the readers we are entrusted with. Perhaps this is a reminder that when we decide that a child is reading too “easy” of books we are really dismissing the reading journey they are on. That in our quest to challenge our readers we sometimes lose sight of what they may need from their reading experiences right now, and that that perhaps is not harder vocabulary or more complex storylines but instead a chance to truly melt into a world and escape a little bit from the craziness of this one.

It is a question I am asked a lot when I coach and train other teachers; what about the kids who read books that are much too easy, how will we challenge them?  The problem is implied; easy books don’t offer up real growth opportunities.  Easy books don’t develop their skills.  Easy books don’t push them forward in the ever-present journey toward becoming a better reader. Easy books means that they will never perform in a way that our standardized tests want them to do. And I hear the worry, the concern for their readerly lives, I see that the question is not asked out of an urge for censorship but instead from a place of care.

But it seems as if, in our well-meaning intentions, that we have forgotten what a better reader really is.  A better reader is not just someone who can just tackle complex texts, who can comprehend at a deep level, who can answer the questions on the test to back up what we already knew.  While those are aspects, they are not the only thing that makes a child a better reader.

A better reader is someone who sees reading as valuable.  Who recognizes the need to read because they will feel less than if they don’t.  Who sees reading as a necessity to learning, for themselves and not just for others.  Who sees reading as a journey to be on, something worth investing in.  That a better reader is someone who will continue to come back to reading when they can, finding value within whatever materials they read in order to make their lives better in some way. A better reader is not just a child who reads hard texts, always pushing their skills, but also someone who commits to the very act of reading. And so I wonder; when we tell children not to read “easy” books, how much of their individual reading identity journey have we dismissed? And what becomes of the reader?

“Easy” books, whether they be graphic novels, illustrated books, books about “silly” topics, books below their actual comprehension skills, free verse, audio books, or even picture books, can get such a bad reputation in our schools.  As if those books are only allowed in the brief moment of time when they fit your exact level, whatever level means.  As if those books are only meant to be discovered when you have nothing else to read, when you actually are allowed to read for fun, rather than for skill.  As if those books are only relegated to a certain age, a certain stage in your readerly journey. and after that they should be put away, never to be revisited again.

Yet so often the books that others may judge as “too easy” for us are the books that make us readers. The ones where we finally feel comfortable, where reading is not hard work but something that we can do successfully. Are the books that keep us loving or liking reading.  That keeps us coming back.  Those books that we devour in one sitting because we must find out what happens next, aren’t those “easy” books for all of us?

So do we tell our students to embrace easy reading whenever they want to keep them loving reading?  Or do we push them so hard to develop their skills that their connection to reading breaks and then we wonder why reading becomes something just to do for school and tasks?

And yes, I teach that child that reads Diary of a Wimpy Kid every day, who is not sure of what else he can read that will make him love reading as much.  My job is not to tell him, “No, you cannot read that,” but instead to urge him to read more books in the series and to celebrate the reading that is happening. To recognize that this child has discovered a part of himself where he finds a purpose within the pages of this book and to help him find books that will offer up similar experiences.  Not to take away, but to recommend, while also protecting the fierce commitment that exists between a child and a favorite book.  To explore why that child loves this book so much and then help discover others like it.  To acknowledge the reading relationship that already exists and to build on that rather than breaking it apart at all costs because I know better.

Don’t all kids deserve to have their reading choices celebrated and held up as valuable choices no matter where they are on their journey?

I am not dismissing the need to challenge kids to read more, to read longer, to read more complex text, but we must be careful with how we present their reading choices, how we judge their reading choices.  We must make reading for enjoyment, whatever that means for a child, a central part of our teaching so that children can understand that reading for enjoyment is just as, if not more, important than reading for a skill.  And we must honor the choices that kids make to further this part of their journey. The research agrees, “…it was shown that those who graduate from programs that encourage self-selected reading, do not avoid literature of high quality…Children in a print-rich environment in which they are free to select their own reading do not stay with easy books.  They not only read more as they mature, but they also select, on their own, books that are harder to read and have more complicated plots.”(Krashen, Lee, and Lao – Comprehensible and Compelling, 2018).  So are we making room to embrace those books that happen to make our children, and adults, love reading?  Or do we only focus on those texts that will continue to challenge them in the ways we have deemed acceptable, to move their skills, unfocused on the other damage it may do?

Because when we tell a child that a book is too easy for them we are dismissing the very reading journey they are on. That book we called too easy may have been the first book they have ever wanted to read, it may be the first series they have wanted to complete, it may be a book that offers them an escape, it may be the first book they have connected with, that they have seen themselves in, or even one that they can fully read on their own.

While our job, as educators, is to develop children who can read, our job is also to support and develop children who want to read.  The two are not always taught together, or even considered, so it is up to us to make sure that when we plan for our reading experiences that “easy” books and anything else that may keep a child’s love of reading intact is not only welcomed but encouraged in our classrooms.  We must ensure that when we plan for reading instruction, that we plan for the protection of the love of reading. And that we stop calling books easy when what we really mean is enticing.

I am excited to be heading out on the road again to be with other educators in-district or at conferences, while continuing my virtual consulting and speaking as well. If you would like me to be a part of your professional development, please reach out. I am here to help.

being a student, being a teacher, books, Reading, Reading Identity

When They Abandon Book After Book After Book

When a child abandons one book after Design

“….well, I didn’t finish any books last year…”She turns to me and smiles.

“What do you mean?”  I ask, not sure I have heard her correctly, after all, I know what amazing work they do in 6th grade.

“….I just stopped reading them, I didn’t finish them.  I got bored…”

She puts the book down that she is abandoning and starts to look for a new one.

I love book abandonment.  It is something I preach should be a taught skill to all kids, a right even.  If you don’t like the book, don’t read it, it’s as simple as that when it comes to building a love of reading.  And yet, this year, we have been exposed to a new level of book abandonment.  A whole group of kids who never, according to their own recollection, finished a book of their own choosing last year.  Not one, not two kids, but many.  And they really don’t like reading. And the pandemic shutdown didn’t help their habits in any way.

Perhaps you have a group like this as well?

And it is not for lack of trying. Many of my students will pick up a book to try, some gladly, some more reluctantly, but many simply don’t find that right book. That book that transports them further into the pages than they have ever been. And I see it in my own reading habits that seem to have been altered by the pandemic. My attention span is shortened, my stamina for making it through slower part is nonexistent at times. I look at my own shelves and see more work rather than adventures waiting to happen. Books are no longer calling my name as loudly as my TV or gaming console.

So how do you re-establish, protect or create the joy of reading, when you really need students to experience a whole book from start to finish? When you know that somehow our readers need to stick with a book but you don’t want it to be out of force because that typically doesn’t change habits long-term but instead just cements the pre-existing tenuous relationship to reading?

In conferring with many of my students, the obvious place to start is their book selection process.  When I ask them how they find their next read, many of them confess to only doing a few things, mainly look at the cover and then start it.  They grab and go, often a new book every day or every couple of days. They go into it thinking that as long as they grab a book then that is all they need to do right now or that is all the have space for right now. And yet, in this hurried book shopping, often with pressure from the teachers in the room giving limited time comes one of our missed opportunities. When book shopping is not given enough time, the conversations that need to happen with our serial book abandoners have no room to take hold and grow. It doesn’t allow them to leisurely browse, to flip through the pages, to consider things like the length of the book, the font, the text size, whether it is a stand alone or a series. They haven’t reflected much on their likes or dislikes and what draws them into stay for longer periods of time. And so when their book shopping results in yet another less than stellar book, it just adds further proof to the notion that all books are boring, that reading sucks.

So reading identity is once again where we start.  How well do they know themselves as readers?  What do they like to read?  What is their reading pace?  What do they abandon?  Is there a pattern?  Are they aware of their own habits at all?  Have they had pleasurable reading experiences at any point? If yes, what was it? If no, why not? I start by interviewing them and taking notes, then I also have them reflect on themselves as readers and we track this information.  I also check in with them more, how are they doing with the book?  How are they liking it? Getting kids to recognize that book selection carries many components starts with a reflection of self and where they are on their journey.

Book selection comes next.  What are their book shopping habits?  We refer to the lesson we did at the beginning of the year and help them book shop.  Who are their book people?  How do they find books to read?  What are their preferences?  What is on their to-be-read list already?  How do they browse a book to try it on? Thinking of all of this can help them with their next selection. COVID has added an additional layer of complication to this and so we have been browsing books by me pulling them out and acting as concierge of sorts, spreading opened books out in the room so they can read the blurbs, see the font and text size, helping them glance without touching. Opening up our room to more book discussion and recognizing where everyone is on their journey. Slowing down and making space for all of this may seem like wasted time but it is exactly what needs to happen.

Track their abandonment.  While all students are expected to write down finished or abandoned titles, we are finding that many of our serial abandoners do not, so we will help them do that.  This is so they can start to see their own patterns; when did they abandon a book, why did they abandon it?  How far were they?  What type of book was it?  What strategies did they use before they abandoned it?   They can track this on this form or we can simply discuss when we have our reading conferences,  This is only something we will do with these serial abandoners, not students who abandon a book once in a while.  What can they discover about themselves as they look at this information?  I also know that some of our serial book abandoners are not on our radar yet, so this survey will help us identify them so we can help. We often then set goals together, if they are in a pattern to only give a book 20 pages then how long do they want to try this one. Looking at their own patterns and habits help them discover where they can tweak and try new things.

Teach them stamina strategies.  Many of our students give up on books the minute they slow down or “get boring” as they would say.  They don’t see the need for slower parts to keep the story going.  They also, often, miss the nuances of these “slower” parts and don’t see the importance of them.  So a few stamina strategies we will teach are asking why the story is slowing down and paying attention to what they have just figured out about the characters.  Another is to skim the “boring” parts for now so they can get back to the story.  While this is a not a long-term solution, it does help keep them in the book and hopefully also helps them see that the book does pick up again.  They can also switch the way they interact with the text, perhaps they can read these sections aloud, or listen to an audio version for those parts. I have also had kids successfully read two books at the same time, declaring that when one book got boring they simply switched to the other one. This ping-pong between books may seem counterproductive but for some of my most set in their ways abandoners, it changed their reading.

Realize we are in this for the long haul.  Too often our gut reaction is to restrict.  To select books for the students to read no matter what.  To set up rules where they are not allowed to abandon the next book they select or determine how many pages they mus read, and yet, I worry about the longevity of these solutions.  What are they really teaching?  So instead, we must dedicate the time and patience it takes to truly change these habits.  We surround students with incredible books, we book talk recommendations, we give them time to read, and we give them our attention.  We continue to let them choose even if we are wondering how developed their abilities to choose the correct book are.  Becoming a reader who reads for pleasure, or who at least can get through a book and not hate it, does not always happen quickly.  We have to remember this as we try to help students fundamentally change their habits with books.  Restricting them in order to help them stick with a book can end up doing more damage than good as students don’t get to experience the incredible satisfaction of having selected a book and then actually finishing it. And so realizing too that we may not see the fruits of the labor we invest into our students’ reading lives come to fruition is also part of the journey we need to be on. Because recognizing that when a child abandons book after book after book is not a weakness but rather an opportunity to study and reflect further on their journey as readers invites us into this work more delicately. It reminds us at the core that we all carry emotions within us when we read or not read and that for many what may seem as an easy decision or a cop out is instead a way to shield themselves from more negative experiences.

I know that this year, I will once again be transformed as a teacher, I already have been.  That these kids that I am lucky enough to teach will push me in ways I haven’t been pushed before.  My hope, what I really hope happens, is for every child to walk out of room 203 thinking; perhaps reading is not so bad after all.  Perhaps there are books in the world for me.  A small hope, but a necessary one.

I am excited to be heading out on the road again to be with other educators in-district or at conferences, while continuing my virtual consulting and speaking as well. If you would like me to be a part of your professional development, please reach out. I am here to help.

being a teacher

Global Read Aloud 2021 – Yes, It’s Happening #GRA21

Crossposted on The Global Read Aloud website as well.

Image result for global read aloud

In June 2020, I wrote a post saying that perhaps 2020 would be the last year. for the GRA That after 11 years, perhaps it was time to say goodbye, end on a high note, move on to other things. Mired by the pressures of the world, bogged down by the usual emails and comments disparaging the choices of books, overwhelmed by the world, that decision felt like the right decision at that time. In June, 2020, I could not have imagined how I would feel now in February 2021, in a world that still feels extraordinarily heavy. That is still moving at a very slow pace as we look for small glimpses of hope in the form of a vaccine, in the form of brief moments of togetherness that has eluded us for so long.

And so as I sat across from my husband last night, celebrating our 16th wedding anniversary at home pretending to be at our favorite restaurant, he brought up research that is being done right now on the power of hope and having things to look forward to. That for the first time in a long time researchers are noticing that people are not planning for things in the long-term because COVID has bogged us down for so long. That we are not planning trips, we are not making plans in the future and that they wonder what not having things to look forward to will do to us as human beings. And it made me think once again about the power of the GRA. About the many emails, comments, and reach outs I received after announcing that 2020 might be the last year. How some of you told me that it was the one constant in your year, that it was one of the biggest things that you looked forward to, that there had to be some way to keep it going. And you kept telling me, periodically an email would show up asking if I had made a decision, would I reconsider? And I had been thinking of it, after all, due to COVID teaching I didn’t even get to do it with my own students this year, it felt unfinished in some ways.

And so last night I made the decision that I have been pulled toward for a long time. The Global Read Aloud will be back, albeit a bit more streamlined, but it will happen in 2021. I feel a bit like a flake, like I played with a lot of people’s emotions, but in June it didn’t feel possible, now it does. And I hope you can forgive me for that.

So a few changes you may notice for this year are:

  • There will be no sign up, just join the Facebook community or stay tuned to this website for updates. That way I don’t have to send out emails all of the time to all of the new sign ups.
  • There will be no voting. Having contenders meant a lot of people got mad when they didn’t feel the right book was selected, so this way it should feel more streamlined; if you don’t like the choice, simple, don’t do the GRA this year.

What is information you may want right now?

  • Kick off will be October 4th and the project will run for six weeks as usual, ending on November 12th.
  • The official hashtag for the year is #GRA21, other hashtags will be announced once the books are.
  • Books will be announced end of March, beginning of April.
  • I will continue to try to find books that speak to a broader world experience, whether set somewhere outside of the US or with a broader global appeal, I am still looking for suggestions, so please consider nominating books here

I hope you consider joining me again as we continue to connect around the world, as we continue to create larger conversations centered in understanding, in acceptance, in empathy. I am excited for another year of reading together, I hope you are as well. If you have other ideas or questions please leave them in the comments.

Stay safe,

Pernille

being a student, being a teacher, being me, student choice, student voice

Disrupting Our Assumptions About Our Own Failures

Our hurry Design

I have been thinking about how hard we can be on ourselves. The constant negative self-talk we, as educators, can quickly sink into due to the supposed reactions of children we teach. How we can spiral so easily into defeatist thinking. Into thinking we would be better off quitting, or surely, everyone else is doing a much better job at teaching than we are. That has led us to question the path we felt so sure of before a global pandemic hit.

It’s easy right now to fall into this trap. After all, with pandemic teaching many of us have grieved the loss of normal human proximity to our students. Unsure of how to connect through a screen, a camera that is turned off, a silent chat, a muted microphone, or a face covered by a mask, 6 feet away. Unsure of our safety as we crave normalcy in a world that is anything but. And yet we have risen to the occasion, isn’t that what we always do, tirelessly inventing ways to engage, reinventing the ways that used to work, we have reached out, we have shared ideas, we have searched for pieces we can bring in in order for us to feel a bit more effective. And yet, the weight of defeat has also been crushing at times.

When that learning experience we worked so hard on falls flat. Again.

When more kids turn their camera off. Again.

When the emails we send offering our support remain unanswered. Again.

When rather than engage we are met with shrugs. Again.

When the space for discussion remains silent. Again.

When COVID robs us of one-on-one conferring, small group work, or huddled together learning opportunities.

We carry our defeats in the back of our minds, the assumptions of perhaps how much we have failed, how terrible we are at teaching this year, death by a thousand cuts.

Because what has shifted in Covid teaching is one of the biggest tools we rely on; the small body cues that shift our direction, the facial expressions, and the feel of the room. The small signs that tell us to change, to go a certain way and not another, that allows us to read the energy and transform our teaching on the spot. When met with silence and blank screens or stares it is hard to know which direction to change to.

It doesn’t have to be lost though, it just needs to be transformed. I write this blog post to remind myself of tools I already use, that give me the answers I have been searching. Because my teaching life has been riddled with assumptions, and often negative ones of my own success this year, despite the evidence to the opposite. Perhaps yours has too?

So suppose we remember to ask instead of assume.

Suppose we take a moment and create a survey asking how we can grow and be better. What is working? What is not? What do you need from me?

Suppose we do it after every unit or even once a week. Suppose we believe that survey rather than our negative self-talk.

After all, all of the assumptions we make are more than likely not accurate.

I have been doing so on a regular basis, nothing new in my practices, after all, centering the needs of students based on their individual reactions is what I have been pursuing for years. Centering the identity of each child as they take control of their learning is the work I have been sharing for a long time.

And yet, my practices got lost this year. I forgot to ask as often as I should have. And I didn’t believe the results when they came in, assuming (there it is again) that kids were just being nice because they saw how hard I was trying.

Yet, if I look at the survey responses, the path forward is right there. The answers I haven’t been able to see as easily because I haven’t been in the room with my students for 330 days.

The questions have been simple. What is working? What is not? How can we make this experience better for you? What do you wish I knew? And then ideas to see whether we should change course. Offer up opportunities to do group or solo learning. Keeping a “Anything else you want to tell me option” just in case.

The answers have been straightforward, “I like our unit…No need to change anything…I’m having fun…” Ideas have also been shared, “Can we work together….can we have more work time….can we split into groups?” All statements I would not have thought possible if I believed my own assumptions.

And they have bolstered our path. I have tweaked and changed the way I teach based not on facial cues which easily get lost in virtual teaching or behind a mask but rather in the words they share. I have asked for their feedback when we are together and we have changed course mid-morning. I have put voice to the questions that run through my mind where I would normally find the answers in their behaviors rather than needing an explicit conversation about it.

And so I wanted to share the importance of asking once again. Because perhaps, like me, you had forgotten the power of a simple survey. Of relying on students to guide us when we feel we are teaching blindly. On looking at all of the cues that we can receive from other ways than those we traditionally rely on. There are many questions you can ask, I recommend starting with those that you have made the strongest assumptions about, such as whether kids care about what they are learning, how to change your teaching, why they choose to not share in some way in class.

Then believe their answers. Learn from them. Take the positive as the boost you may need, and the negative or neutral as ideas to move forward. Repeat as needed.

We can think we know all of the ways we are failing as teachers, all of the ways we are not good enough. Or we can ask. Base our answers on actual reality. Engage students in our planning, our tweaking, in the shaping of our learning community much like we always should be doing.

After all, kids are experts too, we just need to remember that.

I am excited to be heading out on the road again to be with other educators in-district or at conferences, while continuing my virtual consulting and speaking as well. If you would like me to be a part of your professional development, please reach out. I am here to help.

being a teacher, writing

Teaching Inauguration Poetry

We have been sinking into poetry the last few weeks, discovering found word poetry and trying to decide what poetry really is. We have read and listened to poetry. We have created black out poetry, book spine poetry, traffic sign poetry, song lyric poetry, terrible love poetry and now we sink into inauguration poetry.

We will sit in the beautiful words of Amanda Gorman from the poem she recied today “The Hill We Climb” and we will use it to start analyzing poetry in discussion groups, seeing what impacts us, what brings the words power, what makes them more than just a gathered collection of thoughts.

I know many others are also looking for ideas for how to bring this historical moment into their classrooms so I share my lesson slides for tomorrow in order for others to maybe use and make their own. There are two versions here, one focused on Amanda Gorman (note: at the time of this share her poem’s text has not been released so I am working off a transcript), one focused on Richard Blanco that I made before today.

being me

A Late Evening Quiet Rally Cry

cape Design

I tend to look on the bright side of things when it comes to education, to try to find the time to savor the small moments, relish in the growth, look at our successes before lamenting all that is lost. I tend to be a person that “eats the elephant one bite at a time.” Who feels fairly empowered by a thought out to-do list, a well-planned unit, and who tries to look for answers or steps forward rather than dwell on the impossibles. And yet tonight, after endless meetings and navigating all of the information that is coming furiously at us as we prepare to be live with students again in February, I am spent. I am drained, beyond exhaustion but with a restless mind and words waiting to be spilled.

Because the truth is I, along so many others, have innovated my heart out since March 13th, 2020. In fact, probably for a lot longer than that. I have taught from email to email, directive to new decisions. I have risen to the occasion, done all I can, tried to bring my very best every day in order to reach every child, despite knowing that it will never be enough for those who measure our current success against what school was for some before Covid.

And I have worked too many hours, missed too many moments in my family’s life, pushed aside the needs of my own kids, kept my chin up, put on a brave face, and swept my fears and feelings of inadequacy under the proverbial rug because in this nation, the home of the brave, teachers are likened to superheroes who are always supposed to be in it for the kids. And if we falter, if we show fear, if we say enough, well then surely our intentions were never as noble as we claimed. Imposters all along who do not deserve the chance to work with children.

And it’s killing us. Quite literally, as I am confronted with another Facebook post talking about that special teacher, who reached all of their students, dying from Covid. What a world we live in now where it is the very act of being together that can ultimately end our lives. Where going against so many of our teaching practices is what can be the difference between staying safe or not. It used to be guns that killed us.

This post is not a cry for help, don’t worry I know how to take care of myself. I have the links to the meditation apps, the mindfulness moves. The new apps and tech tools that will make it all worth my time. I have the sign ups ready for all of the webinars, the professional development from experts who have not actually taught through this pandemic but speak to those who have. I have self-cared into oblivion, yogaed in the morning, walked in the afternoon, made time for doing nothing, and also those new covid hobbies I was supposed to do. I have worked my way through it all to see the road ahead so that I can get a night of quiet, set boundaries, left affirmative post-it notes, looked for the positive, and stepped away when I could. I have laughed about it. Cried about it. Refused to think about it. Spoken about it. Kept quiet about it. And also just taken it one step at a time, as if I was going out for a jaunty little hike; new adventures await!

I have raised my voice, offered my help, asked questions, offered solutions and reveled in the fact that the district I work in is 100% committed to inviting teachers to the table and keeping us there for the entire discussion. I shudder at what happens to those who don’t get to say that.

And yet, again, despite this, my creative energy is nearing its end, my drive to educate under these circumstances is near extinct, despite the amazing students I get to teach, despite the importance of what we do, despite loving so many things of what it means to be an educator and not knowing whatever else I could possible do in my life that would bring me so much professional joy, I am exhausted. Because let’s face it, we can all continue to try to fold in the cheese, but who invented the recipe to begin with?

Because it’s not us, the educators, who need to put on our capes. Who need to step up as selfless superheroes who will give everything we have in order to save the future. We have been doing that for decades and it hasn’t been enough, it never will be. The change has to be sweeping. Has to start within our classrooms but go to the far reaches of society. Our voices, those of people within the walls of school and those attached to it, must be lifted as we once again push back against what the superhero myth of education really does for all of us. It robs us of our humanity. It takes away our right to say no. It removes the ability to advocate for real change because if we advocate for other possibilities, for work/life boundaries, for hard conversation and more importantly actions, then we are seen as sacrificing children in order to better our lives. Yet that is not true, and we all know it, but nothing works better at silencing educators than a swift “It is best for the kids…”

So tonight, I will once again spend some more time checking in on assignments, tweaking lesson plans, perhaps read a few pages of a book before I fall asleep. I will hang up my cape that I never wanted to begin with and go to bed knowing I did the best I could today but also knowing that this is not sustainable and that we have to continue to say that out loud. That this is not normal, that we are still trying to teach and learn during a global pandemic, and that our best will just have to be good enough. Because that is what’s best for kids, not educators who have nothing left to give.

We will offer ourselves grace and try again tomorrow, with our voices raised. Right after we start our self-care routine, of course.

Love,

Pernille