Month: April 2020

Prioritizing time to support our children’s education during COVID-19 closures.

We can’t do it all.  That much has become clear, if it wasn’t already.  Managing our work and home lives is challenging enough in typical times; throw a pandemic into the mix, and it can be enough to tip the scales to “unmanageable,” even if we’re not on the front lines of response and support.  (Let’s take a moment to honor – and consider the realities of – all those who are.)

As members of the PLS community, we should also take a moment to consider all the advantages and privileges we have as we encounter the daily realities of quarantines and closures.  Some of us may be perceiving that, given all these advantages, we should somehow be able to do it all – that we must – especially when it comes to our children’s education.  As a 22-year educator, I will tell you that we really can’t … and we shouldn’t.  Becoming an effective teacher takes years of training, practice, and professional development, so there’s no point in pretending you’re going to become one overnight.  Furthermore, teachers – whether in traditional schools, virtual schools, or home schools – spend weeks designing, internalizing, and preparing to implement each element of curriculum, time and expertise most of us working parents simply don’t have.   The detrimental effects of the stress people may put on themselves and their children in an effort to replicate school in this new reality far outweigh any potential academic development those efforts might yield.  

So, what to do?  Obviously we want our children to keep learning for the duration of school closures, and we can make that happen in authentic, real-life, and largely stress-free ways.  Whether your child’s school has sent out dozens of emails, directions, and links to online resources or they’re left to their own devices, here’s a simple way to think about how to prioritize time – and how to integrate daily learning – using Maslow’s hierarchy of needs.  

1.  Let’s start with the essentials:  our kids’ physiological needs.  The first things to plan for in whatever semblance of a daily schedule you can muster are meals and sleep.  A well-nourished, well-rested child is much better able to cope with the wacky new realities we’re facing.  Plus you can involve your child in deciding on menus, making shopping lists, following recipes, and preparing food together: life skills, food science, and math! When the going gets tough, the tough bake cookies.  

We all need time for physical activity too.  Dedicate time each day for movement and exercise.  It doesn’t have to be anything fancy: do an online workout video if your child is so inclined, but you might find a game of tag or a kitchen dance party is even better.  Being home together presents a unique opportunity to build healthy habits.

2.  The best way to create a sense of safety and security is to establish and follow a basic schedule and set of routines each day.  This will help you too as you try to navigate work calls, meeting deadlines, and not eating all the cookies you’ve baked.  Allow for some flexibility, but stick to general times for things like daily chores and meals, and also plan consistent time for things you and your child enjoy, whether that’s a walk outside, a game of Scrabble, or watching a favorite show together.  Predictability creates a sense of stability, and it gives kids the concrete knowledge that less enjoyable things will end, while ensuring they have specific activities to look forward to each day.  

Academic work time and any school schedule requirements should be built into the daily plan, but they shouldn’t dominate.  Organize schoolwork into time-bound chunks based on your child’s age and attention span: for younger kids, 15-20 minute blocks for a total of about 90 minutes per day; older kids can typically handle 45-60 minute stretches for up to 3 or 4 hours a day.  This doesn’t need to be drudgery; you can and should allow time for your child to learn about topics of interest to them, which supports their need for self-actualization.

Give your child a sense of agency by working to make a schedule together or giving them parameters (must-dos, may-dos) and having them create a schedule on their own.  Talk about a life skill! You’re also getting at elapsed time, executive functioning, and logic as they try to fit all the pieces together.

3.  This sudden disconnection from friends and teachers can be jarring for school-age children, so work in some deliberate time for connection.  Ask your child what they would like most – some are really eager for virtual play dates with friends and calls with extended family, while others just want to sit and talk with a sibling or play a video game together.  Some schools are hosting virtual classes or online student meetings, and extracurricular groups are hosting online rehearsals and practices.  

Kids can practice their writing skills by composing letters or emails to friends and teachers and crafting notes of appreciation to family members. Families can “meet” for online read-alouds and game nights.  We can and should acknowledge that it doesn’t feel the same, and that makes it even more important to prioritize opportunities to cultivate a sense of love and belonging.

4.  Shifting to different modes of learning and accessing schoolwork can breed striking levels of frustration, even – and especially – for children who typically thrive in school.  Our kids need daily validation of what they’re doing well and sincere acknowledgement that it’s okay if something is difficult.  One of the most challenging parts of this work-from-home / school-from-home dynamic is trying to be present for your own professional responsibilities and be present for your child when they need help with schoolwork.  Don’t try to make those things happen at the same time. Schedule specific times when you can be available to assist with school work, and help your child develop plans and strategies for what to do if they encounter something they can’t figure out independently. 

Self-esteem comes from feeling empowered to accomplish tasks and solve problems on your own, and from having a sense of self-direction and choice.  Encourage your child to set a goal for the day, make a plan for how to reach that goal, talk through some strategies for what to do if they get stuck, and then make time at the end of each day for them to reflect on how they did by talking with you, writing in a journal, or filling out a simple google form (my son’s favorite).

5.  Let your kids do what they love!  Leave some openings in that schedule to allow for flexibility and time to pursue passions, whether that’s playing music, painting and drawing, practicing a sport, building with legos, dancing around wildly, or reading quietly.  Self-actualization may seem more remote than ever in these circumstances, but our kids generally have a lot more control over their time these days, which could open up fantastic new possibilities for them.  Encourage them to make the most of it.

Through it all, remember that you share these same five basic needs.  Be patient with yourself and your child.  If the schedule isn’t working, change it — and don’t feel like you have to follow it rigidly.  Ask for help when you get stuck or feel overwhelmed. Allow time and space for the life moments that matter most.  And make sure you build some time in that schedule to take care of yourself too.  

Jane Henzerling was a 2017 Presidential Leadership Scholar and is the Managing Director of Professional Learning at T.L.P. Education, a non-profit that partners with 400 diverse schools across the U.S.  Previously she served as Assistant Secretary for Policy, Innovation, and Measurement at the New Mexico Public Education Department, and she founded The Mission Preparatory School in San Francisco, CA. In addition to consulting with school systems and education non-profits, Jane serves on the boards of Atlas Corps and DreamHouse ‘Ewa Beach charter school.  She graduated summa cum laude from Skidmore College with a degree in Spanish and earned an MEd in Educational Leadership from Northern Arizona University.  Jane lives in Santa Fe, NM, with her husband and 11-year-old son.

Class of 2020 Scholar Maria Kim reflects on the current state of the world, lessons learned so far from the PLS program, and her hopes for the future.

That’s what Neil Young barked back at the man in the audience who shouted “It all sounds the same!”. The songs, how they turn, their lazy S curves, and the yarn of the tale – for this concert goer, it felt all the same; and for Young, that’s all good because each ditty was just a turn in the conversation – it’s all one song. 

Mike Hemphill, Director of Academic Programming at the Clinton Foundation, shared this Young-ism at our inaugural session of the 2020 class of Presidential Leadership Scholars. This quote has hovered over and haunted me ever since, because it keeps ringing true. That if we take any chapter of who we are, or who we serve, or how we lead, or how we love in isolation, it may feel clunky and disjointed and may not make sense. We have to understand the prequel to appreciate the now. We have to tease the sequel to propel that now forward. We have to know that our stories are perceived and received in the context of our observers, that – as Mike would say – “we are born into the narratives of other people.” It’s all one song. 

In a time like today where we feel uncertain at best, and profoundly lonely at worst, I find myself really reflecting on the past – the long ago past and the very recent past – as if in film strips of time that I can watch and let wash over me in a new way, today. Most recently, I have replayed lessons from the early stages of this fellowship that – when studied in the quiet of covid-19, this unexpected and prolonged space of transition – become profoundly clear, lovely, and actionable. Sadly and unsurprisingly, this past week we were notified that the Presidential Leadership Scholars program has been postponed; and as I see our WhatsApp thread blow up with notes of concern, and melancholy, but most of all support and profound community, I mourn the loss of the experience we were about to have, while also feeling centered by the inaugural experience from which we just emerged. 

From Mike, we learned to “hold openness to learn from unexpected places.” If this crisis in our country – and in our world – is not an example of an unexpected place, I don’t know what is. This moving of the earth beneath our very feet, this silent hurt that the unknown can well up inside of us, and (for those of us who live alone) this echo of our own voice in what feels now an at once cavernous and concave space – it’s all so disorienting, and tethering, and new. Yet inside this labyrinth, we are learning from and leaning on each other in ways I never imagined. For myself as a leader, I am learning the importance of abundant communication – these days can pack a punch, and in some ways, time can slow down when you’re turtled in your own home – away from your general community, disconnected from the daily stimuli of coffee with colleagues, lunch in the staff cafe, in-person meetings galore (did you ever feel like you would miss your meetings as much as you do now?). And so in this shift from abundance to absence (or abundance of one sort [work] to abundance of another sort [family]), we can feel eerily disconnected from the enterprise that used to be our touchstone throughout the traditional business day. To combat this disconnection, we must re-stitch new connection, and we can do this through frequent and robust communication. Communication that’s at once silly, and structured, and sound, and assuring. Communication that’s honest, and transparent, and realistic, and true. People need to know you see them, you feel things with them, you share what you know in the best way you know, and you keep as many of the artifacts, rituals, and traditions as you can alive – in new ways, in innovative ways – so that we all remember even if we are spatially apart, we are socially connected stronger than ever before. 

I also find that the pace of communication has both accelerated and slowed down during this time. I feel the adrenaline of the acceleration – grateful for the precision and the exactitude of decision making during a wacky time of crisis, and the intention of the deceleration – the peace and the presence of being more available to each other because we have less stimuli to distract us. Last month, I had the opportunity to meet Secretary Andy Card (you may remember him as President George W. Bush’s Chief of Staff during 9/11 – the gentleman who whispered in 43’s ear on that fateful day that America was under attack). He shared with me this amazing story of his grandmother Elizabeth French Platz Card. She believed so much in the virtue and the value of each of her children and grandchildren that their biggest fear of letting her down was only beat by their biggest joy of rising to her bar. She used to say to him: “taste your words before they come out of your month.” Clearly, this was an admonition of a young boy who was occasionally at risk of saying the wrong thing, but as I sit with these words today, they have new relevance. Think of the many times you have been asked this week: “how are you?” and you actually stopped the locomotion that is the typical velocity of your conversation, and you slowed down and said, “actually … things have been a little rough. How are you?” Imagine what  happens when we slow down and really sit with the words as they come out our mouths –  not as things to throw away, but as words to lean on and from which to learn. I wonder if the speed of change we’re going through right now creates a slowness of (and therefore a more real) connection. 

In Mike’s words, “we have a tendency of looking through communication to the outcome, as opposed to looking at communication and understanding how we got there.” He argues that the how of our communication often tips the scales more than the what. Today’s forced innovation in how we connect with one another can lead to organic openness to how we challenge one another. It gives us the platform to show up as our better selves and to as Secretary Card’s grandmother would say, “not leave the room before you’ve entered the door.” In the last week alone, I have spent more time talking on the phone or in video chat than I have in an entire month. We are realizing that the only way we can move things forward in an ever-uncertain and fragmented environment is to be actively and meaningfully in touch, is to be present in a way that we’ve never been before. I see more people leaning in on calls, animated, and activated. I hear more voices from traditional introverts who historically have not chimed in as frequently in un-virtual settings. I see genuine joy between colleagues so happy to see one another – albeit on a screen – to see the art they have on their wall, the lunch they made and wished they were sharing with others, the way the furrow of their brow tilts up when someone says something that makes no sense. I see the power of deep and veritable connection, a time that defies “social distancing” while honoring “spatial distancing”, a time that loves up on and enables the power of human connection as the very antibody that we ever more need. And I believe the constraints of today’s space and the place are pushing us to do the very thing Ms. Card implored us to do – which is to be present, with each other and for each other, to recognize that the time together is a gift, and to listen with the whole of our selves so that we can be the best of our selves – not just in this crisis – but for good. 

It’s all one song.