Columns & Editorials

Dear Aunt B,

Part of the joy of moving is the uncertainty of knowing where your stuff is, said no one ever. Granted, I’ve moved a lot. Unlike my mother, who lived in the same town for nearly 50 years, my life has been a bit transient at times. While I did live in the same house for my entire first 18 years, I soon entered into a moving kind of life. I moved to Kaufman. I moved to a Washington, DC suburb. I moved back to Texas: first to Mesquite, then to Forney, then Rockwall, then back to Forney. I even lived in Tyler for 6 months, once. Lots of packing. Lots of unpacking. I’m a pro. Nothing beats this last move, though. Turns out, moving a football field’s distance into a tiny house and moving back, all in 18 months, is a nightmare. Everything is right there at your fingertips but nothing is within reach. Take, for instance, my silverware. No, really. Take it. Someone apparently did.

Good afternoon and welcome to the first non- Covid column in ages. I trust you’re in good spirits. I hope you’re social distancing. I pray conspiracy theories haven’t overtaken your mind. I expect you’ve graduated from the bandana “stick ‘em up” look to the “random quilt fabric” homemade mask look. Lemme just say I know it hasn’t been easy, and I’m darn proud of us both for hanging in there. Enough about that. We’ve had some downright awesome goings on in our neck of the burbs! After 18 months of construction and a year of tiny house living, renovations on our 110 year old bungalow FI- NALLY came to an end. As I’m writing this piece, I am covered in bruises. I have more knots in my neck and shoulders than a sailor trying to pass a figure 8 tying exam. One of my hips has a hitch in its getalong. Also, I am painfully happy and incredibly blessed. The last month, in particular, was rough. Turns out, subcontractors don’t like to stay 6 feet away from anything. Nevertheless, we are in & the process of unpacking has begun. Boy am I finding surprise after surprise. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about today. I have mental conversations with my late daughter daily. Sometimes, she even talks back. This week, she’s a chatty Cathy.

In this climate of uncertainty that is becoming our new sense of normal, I have found myself increasingly hopeful we will emerge a better, cohesive more caring America; especially as it relates to education. I have seen so many creative approaches to teaching children, some of these methods should remain long after COVID19 is a distant memory. This predicament has forced us to look at education, health and life differently and with, hopefully, a new appreciation for each.

The abrupt end to the school year (in many places) has thrown teachers, parents and students into a tizzy. If students remain out until Fall, many will have been out of school 5-6 months. That is a long time out of the instruction and structure of a classroom. What I am hoping emerges from this impromptu time out of school are creative alternatives. One such alternative is Safari Small Schools in Canton, Texas.

Back in the 50’s, when my mom was growing up in Seagoville, our country cousin across the Trinity River, and before her family’s move to N Kaufman Street – when they still lived in the old frame house on Watson, the one that’s now the site of a church, she contracted Epidemic Parotitus, the Mumps. My grandmother was absolutely beside herself. Mumps killed off 400-500 children a year in its pre-vax heyday, back when the country wasn’t as densely populated as it is today. My mom has a few select memories from this time. She remembers a scarf around her face that ran under her chin and was tied tightly above her forehead. She recalls a parade of wannabe doctor aunts and suggestions of all sorts of poultices and homemade compounds designed to “draw the poison from the child’s face”. This was one of Mom’s back pocket stories when I was young. When she would tell it to me, I would inevitably imagine the witch’s council from the TV show Bewitched. Six year old me wondered if Aunt Floye was the same as Aunt Clara, or who was the Endora of the group, Aunt Opal or Aunt Jewel? Did the doctor in her story, the one who made the house calls & administered the eye of newt, look like Dr. Bombay? High school me, with my newfound love of the classics, saw the aunts as the 3 sisters in Shakespeare’s Macbeth. It was kind of spooky, any way you cut it. Spoiler alert, Mom survived with her hearing intact. Crisis averted.

The arrival of COVID 19 has created a new normal in education across the nation. While there is much uncertainty about how to support student learning while trying to keep the public well, there are certainly things we all can do to take care of ourselves and to support our children’s learning. But before we do any of that we must take time to adjust to this new, scary reality. We need to take the information available to us and use it to bring calm and order to our lives.

Health experts and government officials insist social distancing is necessary in the fight to slow the spread of coronavirus from potentially swamping the nations’ medical system and leading to more deaths. Because the symptoms of coronavirus will not affect everyone and may have less than severe effects for 80% of those infected, many are willingly staying at home, knowing their efforts may primarily benefit others, especially our parents, grandparents and those with chronic illnesses. Social distancing is an example of altruism, the willingness to suffer in the service of someone else.

I try to keep this space, my column, sacred, positive. I refuse to write if I’m too frustrated or too hyped up about something, preferring to take a deep breath or a walk around the block before tapping a finger against the laptop. This week, I dunno. I’ve been starting our talks each week with a Mayberry-esque “I’m sure by the time you read this” optimistic opener. Alas, the world is still upside down. My awesome mom jokes aren’t working (and they are AWESOME). The memes aren’t helping, not even the one with the baby’s foot and an arrow pointing at the 2nd toe with the “be like this little piggy” tag line. Get it? This little piggy stayed home. See, not helping. Pictures of munchkin kittens aren’t helping. Babies dressed up like old people aren’t helping. I’m struggling to make sense of any single thing. Yet, I simply refuse to think one more negative thought, struggle through one more sleepless night, or suffer with one more minute with a stuffy, tear clogged nose. See, you and I – we can’t control much about the world. That’s an understatement. Know what we can control? Us. I can work on my headspace and you can work on yours. Let’s put our figurative heads together and, like John Lennon requested of us in 1971, just imagine.

As we navigate this lingering health crisis, the needs of some families can be so unique they escape consideration of the general population. As a teacher, I have encountered children who live with Autism who have very particular quirks and preferences related to food. In a season where securing any type of food for one’s household has been a trying experience, families who live with Autism are affected significantly by the lack of selection at our area grocers.

It’s become more and more clear over the last few weeks how truly interconnected human beings are in today’s globalized society. A vital part of education is helping students understand their place in the world so that they can succeed wherever they go and with whomever they meet. One of the great things about the Foundation’s teacher grants is the opportunities that it gives FISD teachers to broaden the horizons of our children’s education.

Good day, friends! Last week I told you we would be visiting and revisiting the means and ways that we can constructively deal with life’s tragedies. We’ve talked amply about the current Coronavirus. We talked about the first days and months following the death of a loved one. And, yes, we will broach other trying subjects relating to coping mechanisms and how to find our new normal. But today, let’s relax a little and open our mental toolbox. Digging around in our psyche and confronting the realities of the world as it stands today makes anxiety and fear way too comfy as bedfellows. How do you deal when you can’t deal anymore? Alarming stats. Countries in peril. Voluntarily sequestered from loved ones (I write forward by at least 2 weeks, usually, so while I pray we are back to normal activity when this is published, we could be even more isolated than anticipated). In the words of Taylor Swift, we need to calm down. As someone who has been in a few angst ridden situations in her day, I dare say I have a tip, or ten, up my sleeve. Some are tried and true, while some definitely have that crunchy woo woo vibe about them that I’m famous for promoting. Consider trying a woo woo. As my momma says, “Can’t never could do nothing.” It might just work.

The arrival of the Coronavirus, also known as COVID 19, has disrupted every aspect of living for people across the globe. This unprecedented world health event serves as a reminder that we should be prepared for anything and that we are never prepared for everything. As education officials determine what to do next and how to do it, students, parents and teachers await information on when schools are closing and when, or if, we will be returning this school year.