Getting a grip

3 minute read

Peace, love, and masks

“Get a grip”

That was our Superintendent’s advice to us- a group of parents organizing ourselves on Facebook around the return to schools. The tweet popped up last Monday, a little after lunch. I burst out laughing, dotting my screen with little bubbles of Razz-Cranberry La Croix.

It was the validating bone the group needed to gnaw on for the day. “See?! See?!”

You see, outraged folk without direct power need moments to react to, to talk about. Without offense, we just stew and speculate and stew some more.

A couple of weeks ago, I’d wandered into this newly hatched Facebook group. It was started as an online gathering place for parents wanting our kids back in school. We shared our frustrations with months of changing back-to-school dates. While this dynamic is playing out all over the country, this group is just for our small Falls Church City community. These sideboards allowed it to get personal, fast.

Threads range from reasoned to ridiculous- some devolved into rumor and blame. As confusion and negativity grew, our Superintendent was a frequent target. So none of us should have been surprised. If we’d intended the combative dialog to be a trap, he walked right in with “get a grip.”

The funny thing is that it’s not actually bad advice.

When emotions run hot, we benefit from taking a minute to breathe, hook back into reality, and get clear on what’s most important to us.

Unfortunately, he was the wrong messenger.

It reminds me of this too true quote about calm down.

On cue, our Facebook group went bananas. Surely with a sigh and an eye roll, he deleted the tweet and went back to work.

But his intent stuck with me. I tried it on, looked in the mirror, did a little spin.

What would “getting a grip” look like for me?

I lost my grip a while back when I started to obsess over figuring out our teachers’ concerns. I wanted to know which teachers were worried about what issues. I figured fears of contracting the virus could only be part of the truth— given the sea of contrary data on transmission. If I could just know the REAL reasons, we could magically manifest the solutions, and unlock this whole thing. I reached out to the limits of my personal relationships with our teachers and came up with genuine assurances that they were ready and eager to get back. Who then were the resistors? Where were they? What was really going on? I needed to know!

So, how does one empathy-drained and entitled mom move from a focus on what’s owed to me and my kids to one who knows there are no “right” answers in this confusing and unprecedented situation?

For me, “getting a grip” meant accepting that there are answers I can’t have. And in the absence of information, I can’t assume to know how to fix the issues.

I’m also reflecting on temporary versus permanent damage.

Damage to our kids is what we’ve been worried about all along—falling short of knowledge standards, friendships neglected into extinction, missed competitive skill-building time on the field, long-term screen addictions…. and the big catch-all for social and emotional wellness.

After sitting with this for a couple of days, I’m coming around to a mantra repeated to me by more than a few wise women. This is temporary. It’s going to be okay.

When calm, I know this to be true. Believing we’re going to be okay requires faith that these are passing conditions we can manage through our resourcefulness and resilience.

And there’s still the very real possibility of our kids being better for this. Overcoming obstacles is the unifying theme among people we admire. What if the challenges of the last year end up becoming the very thing that makes this generation great?

Permanent damage is different and the result of broken relationships.

What if our acute frustration now ended up permanently damaging—or destroying—the relationships and community spirit we bought into in the first place?

Every one of us moved here on purpose. We wanted to make our homes in these neighborhoods because they’re filled with other generous, caring families. Those families became our friends. We wanted these schools because they’re filled with ambitious, connected teachers and administrators. Without these friends, neighbors, and partners in education, we’re just rows of houses, blocks of brick buildings, and a dry, state-mandated curriculum.

With a bit of newfound grip, what if we focused instead on…

Kids back in school. We turn down the heat and pause the sharp-edged emails and calls. We trust the administration to do their work without distraction. These are smart people combing through every possible scenario and scientific study to try to meet an impossible task. We’ve been heard. We’ve reaffirmed we all want the same thing. So now let’s focus on getting to Feb. 22nd and go from there. They now need our energetic support.

To teachers, specifically, we so appreciate you and what you do. I’m worried that a few are speaking out, and the majority are left unheard. Each of you brings a unique perspective, vision, and skillset to the classroom. Schools aren’t the sum of interchangeable parts. They’re a dynamic collection of individuals. Please consider not letting anyone speak for you who can’t speak to the whole of you. Advocate for yourself. Let’s get back to honoring your unique contribution and individuality.

As a community, we need to get our shit together, together. Through formalized groups like our PTA or informal blocks of neighbors and friends, we can come out of this stronger and more connected then before. We have to.

Why Name-Requesting Teachers Is About Us, Not Them

The post below on name-requesting teachers is circa 2016. I wrote it before my kids started school. I never published it because… my kids hadn’t started school. It was one of those rare occasions when awareness of my idealistic/self-righteousness kicked in before I put my foot in my mouth. I didn’t have the experience to back it up.

I didn’t publish it in 2017 because I became THAT exact parent. I name-requested (really name-required) Baya’s kindergarten teacher to match who Marin had had.

In 2018, I backed off and rolled the dice.*

Now in 2019, I’ll never say never but I’ve come back around to where I started. Name-requesting does more harm than good. And after dozens of conversations I’m convinced: It’s about us, not them- not our kids.

Exerting influence to get the teacher we want is about our familiarity and convenience. It’s a competitive mom sport like pre-season football. It’s about preserving (or advancing) our relationships, our status, and our sense of control. It’s not about their education. So let’s name-request if we must but call it what it is. It’s what’s best for us parents.

---

Why Requesting a Teacher Change Is Screwing Up Our Kids (Drafted in 2016, never published)

School is back in session across the country. This means there is a spike in excitement in many households, as well as in needless parental worry. It’s an emotional time for everyone in the house — not the least of which is us moms. Why are we all so anxious?

It’s because we all want our children to do well in everything, of course, but especially in school. To this end we do all sorts of things that we think will help our kids in their school careers, but that sometimes end up hurting them instead and making ourselves into annoying ninnies. Requesting a different teacher because you don’t believe they’re best one for your kid at school tops the list as a well-intentioned intervention that’s ultimately misguided and damaging.

Here’s why.

Requesting a certain teacher that you trust (or at least know more about than the assigned teacher) seems like something a responsible parent would do, right? Of course, responsible parents take a keen interest in their child’s education and thus want the best possible teachers.

However, requesting (and getting) a teacher switch hurts kids and makes teachers and school administrators crazy at a time when they should be focused on kicking the school year off right. This request is like when your boss gives you a new side project when you’re already drowning in work. Or it’s like when you’re on a conference call while emptying the dishwasher when your toddler manages to shatter a bottle of red nail polish on the floor- a messy distraction that you just didn’t need.

Teacher changes hurt kids in the long-run because, in adult life, we rarely get to choose the people we work with. Let’s pause for a second and imagine how awesome that would be. Ahhh. Ok, back to reality because it’s not happening. Instead, setting up this expectation that we can be choosy about who we work with could give kids a false view of how the world works. The most successful professionals are skilled in getting along with and making the most of relationships with people of varying interests and strengths. Kids have the capacity to develop this skill from toddlerhood, and should be encouraged to figure out the best way they can to work with others — including their teachers.

Additionally, the request itself sends a strong unintended message about you to the school, the teachers, and your kid.

The school might flag you as high-maintenance or someone with expectations that need to be managed. Now, it’s likely there is already someone way more annoying than you- which is to your advantage. However, you don’t want lumped into the ninny category because you don’t want the principal to hesitate at all before reaching out. You want the freest flow of information possible between yourself and the school.

• As for the teachers, you likely hurt one’s feelings while making another feel awkward and on-the-spot to perform to your liking. You don’t want this either. You want your kid’s teacher to be comfortable and confident in her abilities, and you want her to know that you feel comfortable and confident in her abilities. A teacher feeling bad or under a microscope doesn’t lend itself to outstanding job performance.

• Perhaps most damaging is the message you send to your child. Consider pulling your child aside and saying “Honey, you know I love you but I’m not confident in your abilities. Unless I intervene and create the exact right conditions, I’m just not sure you’re good enough.” Hopefully, no parent would actually say these words out loud. But this is precisely the message your child absorbs as the subject of your meddling. You won’t always be able to make everything easy and ideal for your child, and she needs to know that.

The other thing to consider is that school administrators and teachers go to great pains to create balanced classes. What surprised me to learn is that administrators say they think as much about the match between student and teacher they do about the make-up of the class as a whole. They want a positive, cohesive peer group for all of the children because much of their experience is interacting with their classmates — not just the teacher. So, administrators design classes with kids at similar skill levels to form reading and math groups. They create classes with a mix of genders and races. They try to avoid lumping the handful of kids with behavior problems into a single room. And they even try to make sure each kid starts the class with at least one friend. It’s like arranging the seat assignments for your wedding reception times 1,000. It’s hard, and there are often changes made to classes right up until the last minute, because of late registrations and hiring. In other words: school administrators know what they’re doing when it comes to assigning teachers — certainly a lot better than you do.

Even with some awareness of the school’s complex balancing, moms still crave input. Moms in my community are often irked by the fact that they’re not told who their child’s teacher is until right before school starts. That’s intentional. Not only are there late changes happening, administrators want to reduce the amount of time they spend in distracting back and forth communication with parents like you when you lob that first email or make the call with the common line, “pardon me, but we’d like to discuss the possibility of moving our child to Ms. So and So’s class.”

If you think it’s just you making this request, think again. Some schools get dozens of change requests each year. If you’re thinking about requesting a change, consider this first.

 You likely formed your opinion about the different teachers at your child’s school from neighborhood chitchat. Often, moms talk and issue each other stern warnings about certain teachers over wine at mom’s night out. Facts, context, and nuances become secondary to impressions formed by different families.

 Other times, the information is your own firsthand experience gained from an older child in the house. This is equally problematic because all children are different, and teachers — like all professionals — grow and change each year. Because of these biases, it is difficult, if not impossible, to make a rational, educated assessment of the optimal teacher/kid match.

 But that assessment is likely much better left in the experienced hands of the school administrators. What if there really is a teacher out there with a style that perfectly matches your kid? So what.

 If you’re wrong, you lose. One neighbor of mine shared that she’d requested a teacher change because she learned that the assigned teacher was fresh out of school and inexperienced. In retrospect, she’s so thankful that the request was denied because her daughter had her best school year yet with the originally assigned teacher, who brought a lot of energy and enthusiasm to her new job and was incredibly invested in each child.

 If you’re right, you lose too. By denying your child the opportunity to build an important life and relationship-building skill early on, you’re forcing them to learn those lessons later on, in a more high-stakes environment. Or, even worse, they may never learn those lessons — making them poor communicators and difficult for others to work with.

The alternative to requesting a teacher change is to work with your child and their teacher, and play the hand you’re dealt, to the very best of your and your child’s abilities. Direct your energy to working with your child, the teacher, and the administrator, to make this the best school year yet for everyone. Appreciating and trusting your school builds confidence all the way around, and sends the best message to your kid, their teacher, and the administration: “You can succeed under any circumstances. I believe in you and support you.”

*Note: There was no actual risk here. We are so, so fortunate to live in a district where every teacher is Olympic caliber. We can’t go wrong.

into africa

My family runs A is for Africa, a small, non-profit organization aimed at improving education and future opportunities for students at a rural school in Tanzania, Matim. 

The organization was started by my sister Molly and is run day-to-day by my dad Rick (or baba-Molly/Molly’s dad as the Matim students call him (snapshots from his recent trip last week are above.)

The history on how this came to be is a classic tale with a twisty ending. Girl travels, girl has moving experience making her aware of a great need, and girl comes home wanting to “do something.” The twist here at the end was that she actually did. She did do something.

That ending became the beginning of a whole new story about creating an organization from a blank sheet of paper, a new story about the hard, sometimes awkward task of raising money, and a new story about working with family (not for ninnies).

There are oodles of strategy, communication, and organizational lessons that I observed from the sidelines over the years on the stand-up of A is for Africa. Maybe in future posts I’ll share a few but today’s post is about a single and important point that struck me during a recent fundraiser.

Things happen to spark ideas. The possibilities flash across your mind and can burn for hours (or sometimes days) creating details in your imagination. The problem? There is a short window of opportunity to seize that heat and to start. It is carpe diem applied to ideas.

The Latin phrase carpe diem is defined as an urging to make the most of the present time and give little thought to the future. The concept of act now without concern for what comes next is important- especially when you sense you’re onto something. The heat generated at the beginning is usually short-lived and will fan out without some immediate action.

You might delay taking the first step because you don’t know how to take steps 2 to infinity. You worry that you don’t have a flushed out plan, don’t have the money in hand, or (argh!) don’t have catchy name. When the future work anticipated to bring the idea to fruition feels overwhelming, the very potential that makes the idea so exciting can unceremoniously crush it. You think, “how could I possibly get from here: tired and dirty but fired-up (and ogled at the top of the world by some old guy?) to there:  gorgeous and gracefully introducing a line-up of notable speakers while raising thousands of dollars?

Wait, what?

Ok, a quick step back in time…

In 2007, Molly went to Tanzania to hike Mount Kilimanjaro and do a site-seeing safari. This wasn’t her first trip to Africa but it was the most physically ambitious. She intentionally selected an outfitter that had an excellent rating for safety AND a track-record for fair compensation for their guide staff. The 10-day package included the hike support, photo safari, and a visit to a local school for some to be determined community project—in that order which became important to how this story played out.

The first part was the hike. The climb was crazy hard. In some dark, scary, and digestively uncomfortable moments, her Tanzanian guide helped. He helped in the way that you’re forever grateful for the skill and kindness presented at precisely the moment when you needed it.

The second part was the safari. The ride was filled with immense natural beauty and thankfully some wine.

The last part was school. The project provided an emotional and economic peek into the lives rural Tanzanian children and the devoted few trying to create the biggest opportunity possible out of a scarce few resources. Think a couple of paper scraps, one pen, no books. Think no bathroom walls to graffiti, no stinky locker rooms, no little round seats fixed to little rectangle folding tables for lunch. No lunch.

Any one of these experiences might be inspiring but the combination of the three was killer. She was set up.

The hike showed her the people, the safari showed the potential, and the school showed the need.

She wanted to help the kids on the ground in return for the guides who’d helped her at 20,000 feet—a kind of circle of life-y, karmic repayment plan.

So what Molly did after coming home from her 2007 Kili hike was to take a handful of small steps on a new journey.

1. The first thing was to not wait until she came home. Paying by the minute in packed internet café with other anxious travelers looking over her shoulder, she sent an email saying that a) she’d successfully finished the hike and b) she wanted to do something to give back to the amazing community of people she’d met along the way.
2. The second thing was to direct that email went to my parents. A pair who had an obvious interest in her well-being but there’s more. For Molly (and for the rest of us “kids”), our parents do all the normal parent-y things from hosting Thanksgiving to telling random stories, multiple times. And maybe one of the biggest things they do is hold us accountable for both our actions and pursuit of our dreams. Tell them you’re going to do something and they’ll follow-up incessantly until it happens. People like this in our lives might vary-- parents, spouses, friends, or bosses—but regardless of official title, they should be kept close.
3. Once home, she reached out to all of the people who’d said anything like “oh wow, you’re hiking Kilimanjaro?  I’ve always wanted to do that.”  Her message back?  You can, you should, and when you’re done let me know. Now seven years later, she’s been connected to more than a dozen people who’ve gone and had a similar experience who were easy allies in achieving the A is for Africa mission.
4. And then she did a bunch of administrative stuff like set up the 501 (c) (3), craft the website, and create a bank account. Altogether, this probably took about two days of work spread over two weeks. This “infrastructure” provided the mechanism for collecting funds as they started to trickle in and is still in place today.

What’s remarkable is not that they were particularly strategic but that they were done- a series of very do-able steps down a path that we all might follow when similarly inspired.

Between 2007 and today, organizationally a lot has changed.  Molly transitioned day-to-day operations of A is for Africa to my dad. This happened not coincidentally after he completed his own Kili summit hike and retired from his 60 hour+/week federal job. The leadership team has expanded to include my mom, MaryAnne, and sister, Anna. These two are important engines driving progress on many of today’s top priority projects, maintaining communications with the growing donor community, conducting oversight, and providing a running hilarious, insightful commentary on the challenges of both fulfilling the A is for Africa mission and working with family.

With more than $100,000 gathered and spent on priority projects (A is for Africa applies no overhead to donated funds), the impact has been amazing. Matim has earned a significant jump in the national school ranking on improved standardized test scores. Specific initiatives completed include an electrified computer lab, thriving after-school clubs, 900 lunches served every day, and perhaps most importantly, smiling faces turning up each morning ready to learn.

The lesson I take away from Molly and A is for Africa is not to let the future overwhelm great ideas. Carpe diem and make something happen.

---

If you'd like to learn more about A is for Africa's mission and work at Matim, please visit the website aisforafrica.org. Oh, and buying my book Flock helps too! All of the proceeds go to A is for Africa-- just thought I'd mention that!