There have been some remarkable realizations, connections, and friendships that never would have happened were it not for this challenging time of COVID-19. These are the butterflies that have been birthed from the chrysalis of challenges, conflict, and necessity. We reached out to the gcLi community to hear about some of their butterflies. These are their stories.
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My school has what I call a “bonus Friday” before the weeklong Spring Break in early March– an extra travel day that allows those in our community to take advantage of discounted rates in airfare perhaps? I’m not totally sure, but I am certain that I enjoy that day for doing things teachers don’t often do easily – mundane things like going to the bank, or to the post office, or even to a doctor’s appointment that doesn’t require finding a substitute teacher or taking a hit against coveted personal leave from duties. This year – you know, 2020 – my kids and I took this bonus day to travel to Georgia to say our goodbyes to my stepmother who had been battling glioblastoma for 18 months. At that time, there was only a whisper of COVID-19 in the news, but I remember feeling a little anxious to bring my germ-carrying teens into the home of my father and stepmother. My dad is, after all, a cancer survivor in his late 70s, and my stepmom was, after all, dying. But, we made the trip. We packed our lunches so we could eat in the car and sanitized a little bit more than usual at every rest stop, but we weren’t yet wearing masks. My son, a sophomore at the time, was in what I call the “sweet spot” of all that was about to happen. He had experienced a full year of high school, was not yet planning for SAT tests or major programming reserved for junior year, and he was definitely not a senior. My daughter, though, was. Spending her last high school spring break visiting her dying grandmother felt especially hard while many of her classmates were on senior beach trips (even cruises!), but we didn’t realize at all that this was only the beginning of a very upsetting few months.
Within four days of our visit to Georgia, my stepmom lost her fight against the brain tumor. Just 48 hours later, I would learn that our school would not be returning to in-person classes following Spring Break. The students would get a little more vacation time, while the teachers “pivoted,” a word I would begin to hear so often. My school had every intention of offering a robust online program in just one week, and we absolutely made it happen. I was given a document camera and a crash course in Zoom. Students chimed in a little over a week later, some still from vacation homes, and thanks to pretty incredible support from the school, I felt ready.
Now, over 7 months later, I can easily say these have been some of the most challenging times I have faced, both professionally and personally. Hidden in the profound sadness of lost opportunities and missed memories, though, have been more than a few gifts that I know I won’t fully appreciate until, perhaps, very much later. Among my professional regrets is the fact that the gcLi Leadership Lab was cancelled in Colorado Spring, CO due to Covid-19. With very little thought, I opted in to the substitute, virtual webinar series that was offered instead, with my expectations in check and with the hope that it would be better than nothing. I remember the first meeting of introductions where I met my cohort of gcLi “first-timers” and wondering what in the world we might accomplish without actually being together. But discussing the Four S’s, one of which is Safety, in the middle of a pandemic was clearly timely. Sharing our often deeply emotional responses to DEI work in the middle of the protests and riots happening in my city was necessary work in which I desperately needed to participate. Practicing critical feedback and active listening during the season leading up to one of the most tumultuous Presidential elections in history, if not only my lifetime, was also essential rehearsal for the fall we would all undoubtedly face with students (and, in my case, family!).
In short, gcLi offered just the professional support that I needed at a very difficult time. It was incredibly helpful to be reminded that I am a member of a really important, typically underrated, and amazingly talented group of professionals, all of whom were struggling with these things just as I was. Educators really are superheroes, and I needed the reminder that, even when what I do every day is far from perfect, I am still one of the Justice League (or Avengers or Guardians of the Galaxy. Take your pick!). I have been teaching for about a quarter of a century (I’ve lost count of the exact number of years!), and, until March of 2020, I had never used Zoom, Flipgrid, Edpuzzle, Quizizz or a document camera connected to a computer. I’m pretty proud of myself for embracing some of the incredible tools out there to help teachers do their jobs well in this new environment and in such short order. The BEST part, though, is that I have felt enormous support from educators across the nation — friends and colleagues, new and old. Over the last many months, I have connected deeply with professionals in GA, NH, CO, CA, TX, OH, NJ, WI, NC, and here in VA. Though I only got to know the gcLi group in a virtual setting that met weekly for a short while, I look forward to when I hopefully get to greet these folks in person in June of 2021. Two things are now abundantly clear: We’re all in this together…and I will need tissues.
Sally
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My thirteen-year-old asked, “Would you and Dad have split up, do you think, if COVID-19 and quarantine hadn’t happened?”
I answered, “No, I don’t think that we would have.”
I am devastated that my husband and I have separated. I’m relieved, too. I don’t know what’s next, but I do know that I needed finally to tell the truth about my feelings, to ask for more in a marriage, to risk exploding my life and my children’s lives in order to live without resentment, tension, and exhaustion.
In the last two months, I have found myself speaking up more not just with my separated husband, but also at work, not in any overbearing way, but in an honest way. I am becoming less afraid of being wrong. When I created a Reconnecting Event for our seniors the day before school, the principal told me everything that was wrong with the plan; rather than feel small and chastised and personally attacked, I asked him for concrete suggestions to do the event with social distance restrictions in place. When the chair of the board emailed our search committee for feedback on how to share an update of our head search process, I didn’t wait for others to respond first and I didn’t couch my suggestions in such soft language that my point was lost. I simply said what I thought. I have been surprised how freeing this is – saying what I mean rather than worrying about the reception on the other end. I don’t feel aggressive or terribly assertive: I feel like I am just telling the truth. I am feeling more confident in my ability to speak up so long as I am saying what is true for me. I am trying to think less about being right and more about being truthful.
I have spent a lot of my life wanting to do the right thing. Staying married would be the right thing where I come from, thirteen years of Catholic school and an Irish Catholic family. But even there, in a wonderfully surprising way, my Irish Catholic family tells me, “You’ve got to be happy.”
Choosing what is true over what is right is a butterfly worth celebrating.
Maureen