Stuck in the Mud

This morning I had just settled into my cozy corner in Room 272 when I got a phone call from Mr. Appanah, our Building Manager, asking me if I could head outside and meet the mulch truck. He told me he had tried to discourage them from coming today because he feared the ground was not yet dry enough.

I alerted my two co-teachers and dashed outside to meet the truck, thinking it would take 5-10 minutes at most. The truck driver and attendant seemed determined to off-load the mulch today, even if they couldn’t get in inside the garden gates. One of them has delivered to us in the past without issue. 

Though somewhat dubious myself, I helped them move the bleacher and plot out the least soggy route from the asphalt pathway towards the garden. The experienced man on the job got out of the truck to walk around and test the ground, which he apparently deemed okay. Who was I to question his experience?

Mud oozed around the back wheels of the truck. I opened the garden shed to grab shovels and rakes for the flummoxed workers, encouraging them to use any branches, blocks of wood, or stones they could find. Then I texted my co-workers about my thickening plight. Reidy Brown, my school garden partner, was thankfully happy to dash over to relieve me so I could get back to class.

Rushing the season doesn’t always work out so well, but there is now mulch on the premises, if also deep ruts in the grass. Nine days from now we will open the garden as planned. But tomorrow I’m packing an extra bag of grass seed 

Field of Dreams

It’s barely March and I’ve already been out to Merrifield Garden Center twice this month, or rather twice this week. I’m definitely pushing the season. 

Sun and shade perennials are still hiding inside billowing, rectangular circus tents until the threat of frost has safely passed. The old equipment barn is getting a new roof, and other off-season refinements are winding down. Hours have just been extended from 6:00pm until 7:00pm, as late winter days grow longer.

The reason for my first trip was a specific brand of grass seed and some top soil. Ground cover exploration lured me back again today. Ground cover, and the warm, sunny day. Driving west, into the golden glow, on my annual pilgrimage to reclaim Spring, and dream up new planting projects, I reveled in the possibility of it all. 

Leap of Faith

A precipice, to me, is a scarier place than the base of a mountain, perhaps because of my abject fear of heights, in contrast to my enjoyment of hiking. This past year of teaching has been a journey leading me from one precipice to another. I have not been alone in this journey, but the journey has been lonely at times.

Today we return to the school building, a huge leap of faith in our employer’s promise to keep us all safe. 

Will there be HEPA filters waiting for us in each and every room? 

Will mask-wearing and distancing be enforced among those who are reluctant? 

Can we truly teach in-person students as we concurrently teach students who remain virtual learners? 

Will such a stilted environment be more alienating than working from home? 

These are some of the questions on my mind as we head back into the building today.

No Margin for Error

For the first time since APS rolled out the Qualtrics daily check-in system for staff several weeks ago, my finger slipped (or was it my brain?) and I inadvertently answered “yes” to one of the questions. 

There is no going back and changing answers. I didn’t even sign the pledge or submit the form. But I still got the big red “NO” symbol. 

How can this system be so unforgiving as to not allow edits?

Today is the Qualtrics rollout for students, which includes my teenage son. Were I to accidentally strand him at home one Tuesday or Wednesday, he too might be unforgiving. He is desperate to regain the independence that he had developed during his first year of high school. Being turned away at the schoolhouse door because of a Mom error would be humiliating for him.

Maybe it’s a good thing I’m exploring the margin of error on my own survey this morning, with an email in to Mr. Jarosz, our on-site safety guru.

Dusting off the Ol’ Blog

Here we are again, on the verge of another Hundred Day Challenge. For me, only my second one. For some of you it has become an annual ritual, and for at least one person I know that first Hundred Day Challenge never actually ended. 

Well, Tracey, we’re back to join you for awhile on your never-ending journey. Ready or not, here we come!

One Week In

When I wrote to APS in early July about not returning to our school buildings this fall, the prospect of distance learning was still an abstract eventuality. Two months later, virtual delivery has become the cumbersome reality. 

After only one week, my competence has grown fourfold. Although the learning curve will continue to be steep, at least now I can see my path into the forest with reasonable clarity. I will continue to stumble here and there, but hopefully soon fall into a good rhythm with my co-teaching companions as we wend our way through first quarter.

Work-life balance is a challenge. School-related apps now residing on my personal iPhone include Google Voice, MS Teams, and Outlook. I swore this would never happen, and I tell myself it is only for this year. This one year unlike any other in my twenty years of teaching. If I can survive this year, I say, then the next four will be a breeze! Carving out time to be outside, to garden, to walk or bike each day is crucial. Especially given how much more I am sitting at a desk. In real school I never sit.

My biggest logistical challenge is resetting my body clock so that I get enough sleep. I know my students are still struggling with this too. It’s taking longer this year than most. I’ve had to resort to Melatonin on week nights. 

Fully Engaged

Sent to engage@apsva.us on this day.


Good Morning APS,

As an Arlington teacher, parent and taxpayer, I would like to urge you to revise your reopening plan to 100% distance learning for this fall. 

If we make that commitment now, we can all get to work on planning for a DL experience that far surpasses what we cobbled together at the last minute in the spring. If we plan for both hybrid and DL we will be stretched in two directions, we will be full of anxiety, and we will be less effective at both approaches. It will be a nightmare. 

As an almost 58 year old woman in good health, I would be the only member of my immediate family leaving home for work or school. (Isn’t it telling when even many APS teachers plan to enroll their own kids in the DL option?) My husband, who will be 61, can continue to work from home.

Furthermore, I have only seen my 94 year old mother twice, behind glass, since February. If my strong preference to do DL is ignored and I am summoned into school this fall, I may never see her alive in person again. So not only will many teachers be filled with anxiety, but some of us will also be struggling with grief. While sharing this I also realize that many of our students are already struggling with anxiety, depression or grief.

I am too young to retire. I do not feel done working with middle school students. As an EL Resource teacher I plan to host my own Canvas page for my dually-identified caseload students in order to support the work they are doing in their classes. I believe I can more effectively do this through Canvas Conferencing than in person, given the constraints of social distancing. I believe most teachers will be teaching through iPads even if they are with students in person, because it is going to be too risky to implement the student-centered, small group, cooperative learning techniques that we all know are best for students.

Here’s the crux of the matter: we are seeing the lack of social distancing and mask-wearing INCREASE this summer as the state begins to open back up. Local reports indicate that the bars are crowded, and only 5% of folks on our bike trails (my husband included) are wearing masks as they walk or ride. Yet teachers will be asked to sacrifice themselves more than the citizenry whose children we teach?

Only if we as an entire county can drastically minimize new cases of Covid for at least 14 days running will you find nursing-mother teachers, older teachers, immune-compromised teachers and anxiety or grief ridden teachers ready to step into their classrooms again by this fall. 

There are still too many unanswered questions, for example:

1. Will our preferences for DL be honored even if we ourselves do not meet the standards of medical risk?
2. What happens if I get sick and run through my paid leave? (I am at least part of a two income family. Many teachers are not.) 
3. Will there be any subs at all, or will my on-site role become that of subbing for colleagues while neglecting my own caseload and attendance at IEP meetings as stipulated by the DOJ settlement agreement?
4. Will the School Board continue to meet virtually even as teachers are asked to return to the classroom? And will the central office staff continue to work remotely, too? 

I understand that segments of this community want and need to see a plan that allows their children to return to school. I understand that we as a school system needed to develop such a plan so that stakeholders can see what it looks like. But I sincerely hope that your data collection will show you that the vast majority of parents and teachers are not ready and willing to put their kids or themselves back into a situation that is no safer than the one we pulled out of on March 13th.

Respectfully submitted,
Enid Dunbar