2022-23 Farewell Tour

 I was a teacher at heart at an early age. Always left-handed, my handwriting left a bit to be desired, even back then. My sister, Karen, was my first student, I suspect, and has continued to tolerate -- even cheer me on through-- incessant ramblings about education throughout the years.
For several summers, my pre-teen self ran a backyard nursery school. Parents paid fifty cents to send their kids to my back yard for 2 hours, three times a week. At age 10, I thought I was rolling in the big bucks. We put on plays, using a sheet on a clothesline as a stage curtain, grew crystals on charcoal briquettes, raced miniature red-eared turtles, before it was illegal to own them as pets in Pennsylvania. We served more Koolaid than is probably legal under current federal dietary guidelines, played on swing sets made of metal, and tied clover chains that stretched down the entire driveway. 
Somehow, I lacked the power of persuasion after my morning "Backyard School" to garner all of the bigger kids in the neighborhood to break the Guinness Book of World Records for clover chains by tying enough together to stretch down our entire street. To be fair, I don't know what the record was -- if there even was one -- that we would need to strive to break. It was prior to 1973, which many of my current students believe predates written history, and google didn't exist for my endless desires for instant research.

(In my research for this blog post, I discovered that nine years ago there was allegedly a 16892 foot chain.  Not sure if it's listed in Guinness.)

In short, teaching has been part of who I am for, well, almost as long as I have been who I am. 

Yet this past Thanksgiving week I made a ruminating possibility that had been bubbling up more often recently into an official, irrevocable, decision.  And being the educator that I have always been, I did my research.

I delivered my letter in person to my superintendent and two principals - one in each of the buildings I serve, celebrating the pleasingness of 11-22-22 as the number sequence.  Truth be told, I delivered the letters on 11-21-22, but couldn't bring myself to back up the date. It just wasn't as perfect, in my weirdly mathematical obsession.  A copy of the letter appears below, without the hyper-script footnotes, since this blogging platform doesn't seem to support the idea of additional details through footnotes. Remember, Teacher of the Gifted, not the Gifted Teacher.  (There probably is a way to do this, but technology, smh.)

November 22, 2022

Dear Dr. Lausch:

About eight years ago, two of my students wrote an entire collection of lyrics and music for a concept album they created, entitled Sonder.  This collaborative project was their Talent Development Opportunity (TDO) in one of my Themes in Literature classes.

This was just one of thousands of times when I claimed ignorance, learning from my students, instead of teaching them. (Always Teacher of the Gifted, not the Gifted Teacher!)  Derek and Tim explained the title’s definition  as “The profound feeling of realizing that everyone, including strangers you pass but don’t interact with necessarily, has a life as complex as your own, which we, individually, are completely unaware of.” (See Footnote 1 - Blogger doesn't allow footnotes, apparently)

I’ve reflected on that project, and concept,  countless times since that presentation.  Sonder permeated my brain throughout the upheaval of Covid, as we, as teachers, became hyper-aware of the multitude of factors that could be contributing to our students’ educational shortcomings as we navigated a collective “new normal.” Essentially, educators have become “Sonder Investigators,” not really understanding the infinite circumstances of our students, yet realizing the call to attempt to try to do so with empathy and compassion.

In August, I attended the funeral of a colleague, who I had spoken to less than three weeks prior. Cheryl chatted about her plans to do three more semesters, and then join her husband in retirement. We had plans for our students - collaborative activities between her Life Skills students and Key Club - and dreams of expanding services in our Rent the Runway closet to include professional clothing. I knew Cheryl as a passionate woman who loved her job, and, with tears rolling down my face, promised to challenge myself to strive for the incredible energy, creativity, and enthusiasm she brought to Donegal. While listening to the testimonies at her funeral, I mourned her loss even more deeply as I realized how much she had on her list to explore with her family that was never going to be realized.

While I had a personal target of completing twenty-five years of service at Donegal, circumstances have changed dramatically. As I reflected on where I am in my life, I realized that so much of who I am is defined by my career and that my life outside of Donegal is often pushed to the side as I prioritize the needs of my students beyond my own family, and even myself.

It’s an odd feeling to experience sonder on one’s own life. I’ve realized over the last couple of months that I don’t really know who I am without the “Teacher of the Gifted'' label - that my ability to recognize the split identity of my non-teaching self has created a sense of sonderlessness (if there is such a word) in my own mind.  I don’t really seem to have time to explore the full complexities of my personal life because of my primary focus and identity as a teacher.

 This year has become very reflective and introspective for me, as I’ve been able to discover that what I have is onism. (See Footnote 2) In the immortal words of Lin Manuel Miranda’s Hamilton, “There’s a million things I haven’t done…”, and while I’ve struggled with the subject/verb agreement in that quote, I am anxious to start chipping away at that list. So, please consider this letter my irrevocable notification of my intent to retire at the end of the 2022-23 school year.

I am profoundly grateful to Donegal for the investment made in me, and the continuing educational opportunities I’ve had at some prestigious universities trying to up my game learning to work with the best and the brightest in the district. I’ve had the privilege of working with some of the most talented people on the planet, and have received immense joy in watching my students discover the power of self-understanding and reflection as they practice metacognition and discovery. I am a lifelong learner, and will continue to learn and share new knowledge with others, even if I’m not in a classroom. (Case in point, I suspect this may be the first letter of intent to retire that you’ve ever received containing footnotes.) 

With Gratitude,

Susan A. Heydt

Secondary Teacher of the Gifted

1

Coined in 2012 by John Koenig, whose project, The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows , aims to come up with new words for emotions that currently lack words. Inspired by German SONDER sonder- (“special") and French SONDER sonder (“to probe").

 2

n. the frustration of being stuck in just one body, that inhabits only one place at a time, which is like standing in front of the departures screen at an airport, flickering over with strange place names like other people’s passwords, each representing one more thing you’ll never get to see before you die—and all because, as the arrow on the map helpfully points out, you are here.

After I delivered the letters to the administrators, I spent the next day delivering the shirts, pictured below, to the people who mean the most to me. Colleagues and friends who are my absolute CREW. I delighted in telling each and every one of these people how much their support, patience, enthusiasm, and tolerance of me has meant to me. I got to say all those things you think about telling the people you love and respect, to their faces.
It was a phenomenal way to celebrate Thanksgiving Week - celebrating, very quietly, telling these friends and colleagues how much their support has meant to me. I truly was blessed to literally give thanks for them.

Last evening, the Donegal School Board accepted my letter of my intent to retire, so yes, this is officially the Farewell Tour. 

On the back of the crew shirts is a list of my current schedule for this year. Each of those lines represents at least one student - and sometimes as many as 20 students - who are working on some project (or more) that I am responsible for project monitoring,  or taking some class, with me this year in either the Junior High or High School. It's a super-fun representation of the creative scheduling we do to support our gifted kids in our district, and the list rivals Elton John's 2022 Farewell Yellow Brick Road Tour shirt, without the benefit of the frequent flier air miles.

I've been well-challenged,  learned so very much from my students, and continue to love (nearly) every minute in my classroom. Yet, the feeling of sonderlessness is calling me to greater clarity in my own metacognition of myself. I teach it, I preach it.  Now it's time to experience me.

To quote Green Day, Semisonic, "every new beginning comes from some other new beginning's end." If the next new beginning is as fulfilling, humorous, exciting, and exhausting as the last, I should be just fine.

You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch!

 

The Christmas movies have been streaming pretty much non-stop since the leftover

turkey was wrapped up for sandwiches. This is absolutely fine with me, as I'm pretty

much a Christmas-aholic. I love the entire season - the movies, the music, the angel

trees, the white gifts, and all the traditions that live in memories and many Rubbermaid

totes stacked for 11 months a year in the garage. It's no secret that the same can be

said for almost every kid in school between Thanksgiving and Winter Break - laser-focused

on the countdown to the magic of Hanukkah, Christmas, or, at very least, a glorious

9 days without alarm clocks and homework.

More than a few years ago, I invited the Grinch into my classroom, starting the first week

in December. I was teaching 6 - 8th graders in the middle school. Our high school had

performed Seussical the Musical and the district was the proud owner of a handmade

Grinch costume, just ripe for the picking. (And we had a very nice assistant principal

who fit in the costume!)

Recently, I discovered a Facebook group for Gifted and Talented, where teachers

share ideas. Someone was looking for ideas for units for December. While it's been

twelve years since I've taught this unit, it was so much fun, so I shared the idea. Several

asked for more information, so here it is, fresh from 2010! It could easily be adapted for

older or younger students, based on current units of study. Here’s a rough overview of

how I used it with middle schoolers:

I started by securing several copies of the book, How the Grinch Stole Christmas. We did

a class read aloud, with students mind-mapping the story. With the Grinch in the center space,

students drew bubbles and connected the actions of the Grinch - both good and bad - to map

the story.

We did a Socratic discussion on the implications of such actions, were they to happen

in our own community. What would you do if you were Cindy Lou Who and found

someone stealing your family’s gifts? (for example). What types of charges might be

brought against someone entering a house uninvited? Ultimately, do you believe the

Grinch is guilty of a crime? (For younger kids, this could be a really cool SEL lesson).

Students divided into two groups and began to research some of the local laws regarding

personal space, property, theft, etc. Those who wanted to support the Grinch, and argue

circumstances found data on loneliness, isolation, and mental health. Once they found these

arguments, they turned to case law and statutes. Some students talked to local police, some

looked for experts who could give them information to support their argument.

We reviewed what a non-jury trial might look like, and some of the basics of what happens

in courtrooms, including evidence, objections, over-rulings, etc.

I contacted the assistant principal, who agreed to wear the costume, and the local district

justice who was thrilled to come to school in his robe and with his gavel, to listen to the

arguments of the students.

On trial day, the kids assembled in the library to present their case to Justice Reuter. They

were SHOCKED to have the Grinch arrive and sit at the defense table, drumming his fingers,

and scowling, very Grinch-like.

The kids did a great job, and Justice Reuter was amazingly patient in offering feedback and

answering questions. He told them how impressed he was with the research they had done.

This activity could easily be used as a Perspective/Point of View lesson, as an SEL lesson

on tolerance and mental health, an analytical lesson for Civics and Government – adapt as

you see fit!

Meanwhile, I have memories of kids who weren’t always interested in research who were

searching case law to defend a resident of Mount Crumpit, and weren’t afraid to argue with

a judge to defend their opinions.

WHAT? SO WHAT? NOW WHAT?

 

It's been more than a minute - okay, almost two years - since I've blogged. Forgive me, I've been busy.

"Busy with what?"

Yeah, about that.  I guess my answer is "Life."

Things in my teaching sphere are changing pretty dramatically this year. As most teachers know, the beginning of the school year has most teachers asking the questions listed in this blog's title in varied order  - "NOW WHAT?" before the "big new policy" for the building, "WHAT?" for the inevitable shocking announcement or protocol that is inconceivably inconceivable for a multitude of reasons dealing from complexity of enforcement or execution to downright gobsmacked reality, and "SO WHAT?" to help soften the blow of the changes in external forcefields and their impacts on the internal classroom that we are individually charged with controlling.
Our district has added Newline boards to the classrooms - basically the world's largest cellphone, minus (I think?) the ability to make an actual phone call. (Stay tuned, I haven't actually done the training yet, so you might still get a butt dial if I lean against the board!) Most recently, we were told to expect the removal of all telephones from our classrooms, instead expect TEAMS phones with picture dialing.
Two basic forms of communication in the classroom are brand new. And we're still more than 2 weeks from the start of school.
Yet, the three questions will help us all to deal with new realities and procedures, and give us all something to bond with the newbie teachers, sharing the age-old understanding that nothing in education is ever stagnant.
I actually have WHAT, SO WHAT, NOW WHAT posters in my classrooms. Being able to ask, and answer, those questions helps to give purpose, motivation, and meaning to lessons. It's my way of justifying why I'm asking students to do a particular assignment or activity -- it's honesty and transparency for the gifted and talented kids who are skeptical about being asked to do something perceived as beneath them, too stupid to do, or a waste of time. 
Is it true that sometimes we do things we don't like?
You betcha.  That's training for life. (Don't push me so far that I give my mammogram or colonoscopy as prime examples of such required fortitude to be developed.)
My lesson plans have changed - and are visible to the kids.  Certainly, I have more detailed steps in my actual teaching plans, but every student has access to this sort of overview every week available to them on Schoology.  It helps them - if they bother to open the folder - to know my expectations, requirements, assignments, and what they will be missing if they are absent. It also, I hope, explains some of the crazy stuff we do that seemingly has no rhyme or reason, until one considers the constant presence of all of my underlying lessons of metacognition. (This year, we're once again checking out James Anderson's Habits of Mind.)

If' you'd like to see an example of an introductory lesson plan for students, click to view the first entry of last semester here.  Our Themes in Literature topic last semester was "This I Believe", loosely inspired by the now-retired NPR program by the same name.

We have a new teacher in the gifted department, and my elementary counterpart teacher and I spent yesterday trying to help the newbie-to-gifted understand the scope of what we do, while not simultaneously causing her to go screaming into the closest cornfield. (Remember, this is Lancaster County, after all!) As we attempted to give information, and answer questions with as little specificity as possible to avoid the overwhelming sense of drinking from a firehose, even we, the veteran Teachers of the Gifted, were feeling more than a little overwhelmed.

Until we realized:

WHAT - We are attempting to advocate and design appropriate experiences the gifted kids in our charge based on their unique learning needs.

SO WHAT - Because they deserve our best to reach their full potential.  (To Learn and Grow!)

NOW WHAT - This is always the question. Ultimately, because these kids in our classrooms will be making decisions in our world in the blink of a few short years, and we want to make sure they have appropriate skills and resources.