I am extremely appreciative of the response to my writing. I began with the idea of documenting events as way to organize my protest, my letters and responses to the government and the choices they are making, as I believe they are playing with the lives of Manitoba's students, educators, and their families. Beyond my mother I wasn't actually sure who would be interested in my thoughts.
It has been extremely gratifying to hear from teachers with whom my experiences, as well as feelings and concerns, resonate. I have received comments and messages with support, understanding, and affirmations, and am constantly reminded that I am not alone. The responses are inspiring as I feel my purpose is renewed with each message. My story is the story of many teachers across the province working to maintain a semblance of normalcy, and teach their students, with few modifications to protect them during a pandemic. When I speak of life in the classroom, teachers understand.
What I was reminded, thanks to my uncle, who is a professional writer, and a longtime supporter, is that not every reader understands. Not everyone has the experience of being in the classroom, and so when I write about events or procedures he, and likely other readers like him, doesn't always know what I am talking about. I understood that while he may enjoy the stories, or even be able to empathize with my feelings, it is hard for him and other non-educators to picture what is really happening and understand the context. He advised me to be more descriptive.
I appreciated his insight, and while I always have to be mindful of descriptors and information about my school, classroom, and especially students, I took his words to heart. Even though my goal is always to write as little, and as quickly, as possible, I realized immediately it is an important layer, and while I can't guarantee I will always follow through, I will aim to be more mindful of my reader, at least my uncle, and add more context, in the future.
For now I will attempt to describe my exhaustion, as I feel it is important to share my experience of the weekend. It took me by surprise, leaving me both humbled, and grateful.
Late Friday night, the week came to a close, and after a beautiful and small family Rosh Hashana celebration, I crashed. I crashed hard.
Though I slept reasonably well, on Saturday I woke up completely exhausted. Over the course of the day, I intermittently forced myself out of bed and tried to do a few chores, and even just spend time outside, but I couldn't. I was wiped. I was tired to the point of questioning if I might be sick, but deep down I knew that I was just tired. I slept for about 7 hours over the course of the day, and when I finally got up to play Bingo around 5 (if we had won if would be a different blog), I was finally feeling better and somewhat awake.
The first week back in the classroom is always exhausting, and I have experienced tiredness before, but never this kind of fatigue. I started worrying there might be something wrong with me, and even as I was feeling a down-to-my-bones-weariness, I was simultaneously wondering if I wasn't exaggerating, or perhaps even imagining the tiredness entirely. I could have easily judged myself how I was feeling and everything I wasn't doing.
When I went online, I was once again reminded that I wasn't alone- it wasn't just me or my imagination. One young teacher posted a meme that read, "Once upon a time, I was tired, then I experienced post-summer, mid-pandemic, back in the classroom, all day, 5 days a week, wearing a mask, sanitizing every square inch, teacher tired," and I was again startled as I recognized the impact of the past week, on me, and many other educators, physically, and on all other levels.
While the job is essentially the same, and constantly demanding, whether it is one's first, fifth, fifteenth, or twenty-fifth year in the classroom, young teachers are generally full of energy, and while I in no way begrudge anyone's claims to tiredness, her post was both comforting and disheartening. I empathized, as I felt her exhaustion as my own, as well as that of the teacher who wrote the meme.
As I continued to scroll through my feed, I followed the thread of another brave educator, who was seeking to understand her experience with stress induced symptoms, and the upward of 50 comments, some sending care, and others including symptoms of their own. Compiling the list sounds like one of the warnings on a pharmaceutical commercial.
Warning: teaching in the classroom during a pandemic may cause side effects, including but not limited to, headaches, nausea, irritable bowel and other digestive issues, insomnia, anxiety, depression, irritability, fatigue, and if that isn't enough, dry hands from excessive washing and cleaning.
As the evening set, I was annoyed that I had slept my Saturday away. It was a beautiful day, and was supposed to be Rosh Hashana by the river with my parents, but I recognized that in these times, and on this day, self care meant sleep. I was relieved for the understanding of what was happening to me and what I needed to do to take care of myself, and grateful that I have the ability, the freedom in my life, to be able to do so.
I went back to sleep at 9 that evening with immense gratitude that I felt better, and a thought for all my fellow educators who were as exhausted by their first week back in the classroom as I, and hope they are as supported as I am in taking care of themselves and their families, even as I know that many are not.
When I woke up early the next morning, after as solid a night's sleep as I get, I was happy to be feeling fine and energized, and especially relieved, because later that morning my partner and I had appointments with our massage therapist, who has been one of only two other people to enter our house in the last six months. I was very much looking forward to it. I had scheduled it because I knew I would really need it, and I was right.
Massage therapy is my favourite form of selfcare, and beyond the benefits to my aging knees and old shoulder injury, part of what is essential to my treatment is the work on my jaw. In 2007, a fluke at the dentist's office during a routine filling, in which the needle hit a nerve, left me with paralysis in part of my inner palette and tongue, and as a result my jaw gets sore. It is especially noticeable at the end of the day after talking so much, and while I have gotten used to living with it, and recognize their are much worse afflictions, the jaw and face are my favourite part of the massage as it offers great relief.
Though I was feeling fine, and didn't feel any need to cancel, which made me really happy, I also realized I had to consider the bigger picture. Now that I am back in the classroom, I have to operate as though I will be informed of exposure at any moment, and take all necessary precautions at all times. I didn't think I would ever have to wear a mask in my house, but I knew that was what I had to do, at least while on my back. Michelle did too and the space between the straps allowed perfect access to my jaw and she was able to work her magic. It felt like a miracle.
I told Michelle I was going to write about my massage, and the experience of wearing a mask, which she did as well, to be clear, and she does always, as is the new norm. There was another meme I saw going around recently, which perpetuated the stereotype that women have habits which make them "high maintenance" and massage was on the list. It saddens me that stigmas like that still exist, with massage and in so many areas of self care. It is time to break them. Let that be the "new norm."
I encourage my fellow educators to continue to take care, be it your voices, your bodies, or your mental health. If you happen to live in Trascona and you are interested in Michelle's exceptional, portable service, message me for details.
For my part, I promise to do the same, as well as taking the days I need to be well and useful in the classroom. Many years ago my first teaching partner gifted me with these words, "No one thanks you for coming to school sick," and I have tried to live by them, and no feel they are more important than ever.
For my uncle, who I know is reading, in the next days I will aim to write the description of the flurry of activity that is life in the classroom, from the moment I open the door to students when I arrive, usually around 8:30 a.m. until the moment they (usually) all leave at 3:25 ish.
I will try to capture the feeling of the constantly considering the needs of the 23 different individuals in the classroom at any given time, including whether they have eaten (at least 2 haven't), their social needs and who doesn't want to come to class because of whatever issue (some often serious), while taking care of the kid who got hit by the LaCrosse ball in gym, all while teaching several subjects over the course of the day, but not today.
For today I will rest, because it is already late, and tomorrow is another day in the classroom.
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