Dismantling the Nest

One of the most frustrating things for me is when I notice that I have a problem, but I don't know how to fix it (or, in the case of my last blog entry, I find that I am unmotivated to learn how to fix it). The first step to solving the problem is identifying it, but sometimes I don't even know how to do that...until I find out that someone else has the same problem and has started to work on it, too.

Although Twitter can sometimes be a complete trash fire, I stand by my assertion that it is also the best free professional development that I have ever experienced. Almost exactly 48 hours ago, I came across the following tweet (included with permission):



This is solid advice across the board, of course, and I'm sure that it is especially encouraging to new teachers to know that not everything needs to be perfect or even finished before students arrive. It is incredibly important for students to have a hand in creating and decorating the space you all will share.

However, the part that really intrigued me was the second piece of advice about the "nest" since I suspected that I was a true offender of "nesting" before I even read the clarification of what it was. I've read about teachers (and I work with some who have done it) giving up their teacher desks to make more room for student workspaces. I have admired the idea of that, but I'm not there yet; I still need a space where I can put stuff and know that students will not (or at least are not supposed to!) bother it and it will be exactly where I left it for later work time.

I am 100% a hoarder, both at school and at home. Not of garbage or animals or anything that would be a health hazard, but I am queen of "I could find a use for this!" Of course, this leads to clutter everywhere. I have become used to piles of books and papers and every available surface covered with mail and boxes and needing to clear a space on my dining room table to eat dinner. It just doesn't bother me...but it probably bothers some of my students, and it makes me, an already not-very-efficient person, even less efficient.



Every year, I do a little bit of a better job putting some systems of organization in place, and a few even last all year. But it's not good enough. It's never good enough when I have exactly what Traci Tousant describes above taking up valuable space that students could be using to store their supplies, use as a workspace, or just have empty until its purpose is revealed to us.

I went into my classroom today with the express purpose of eliminating spaces that could become nest-friendly. I changed the location of almost all of my pieces of furniture, including my desk to take up much less space; I emptied drawers of outdated, unorganized handouts and made them into student-accessible craft storage; I broke down the boxes that I had stored my books in so I wouldn't be tempted to use them as catch-alls.

Recognizing and naming the problem is the first step in the problem-solving process. It seems simple and obvious, but I have learned that nothing - except "First do no harm" - is simple or obvious in teaching. I don't need a perfect or a themed classroom, but I do need one where all of my students and I can learn together and an environment that supports that.

My 14th year of teaching starts in two weeks, and thanks to these wise words, I pledge to live a nest-free life (at least in the classroom!) from now on. 

Graphic from https://thecornerstoneforteachers.com/truth-for-teachers-podcast/classroom-clutter-keep-toss/

Groundhog Day

At the end of every summer, I SWEAR that I am going to blog during the school year. How hard could it be, really? Not daily, not weekly, but once a month, minimum. Is that honestly so difficult?

Three years of that thinking has shown me that one of two things is true:

1. Yes, it really is that hard. Basically, it's impossible.

2. No, it's not really that hard. I just don't prioritize it.

I choose to believe that the second is true. Those of you who know me, either online or in real life, probably know that one of my top three flaws, personal and professional, is time management. Once I learned the phrase "time optimist," I felt seen. A time optimist always thinks that something will take less time than it does - not because they are lazy or rude, but because they really believe that the thing they are doing (driving to work, getting ready to leave, writing a paper, grading a quiz) will take less time than it actually does. I am unsure if "time optimism" includes not building in extra time, but I absolutely do not do that, either. One minute of traffic will make me at least five minutes late. I don't understand the physics behind it, but it's true. I hate it. And I kind of hate myself for being like that.

A shirt I desperately wish I did not need but should wear everywhere
(https://www.stereohype.com/t-shirt/3390-sorry-i-m-late.html)

What I do not hate is that I believe this is changeable. I read somewhere that a habit takes 30 days to form (and way fewer to break, but that's another story). Sometimes - okay, a lot of the time - I get discouraged thinking about how long it takes to change a behavior and how many of them I want to change. But just like we tell our students, it is possible, and the only person who can decide to change me is me.

Last summer, I read Kate Roberts' A Novel Approach, and this past spring, I read Cornelius Minor's We Got This. Both of these books are written by people that I admire immensely, and both of them offered incredibly insightful ways to improve my teaching. Both of them also echoed a universal truth of teaching: if we say we value something, we have to spend time on it. We have to make the time in class to do the things that we ask our students to value: read, write, think, talk, and grow. We have to take the time to ensure that our schools and classrooms are bastions of safety and progress for ALL students. Optimism and hope have places here, but time optimism does not. Procrastination does not. Avoidance does not. 

Let's do this.