Just Keep Swimming (or Back to School Planning)

Remote learning was challenging. That's no surprise and while each stakeholder has their own reasons why, we can all agree that it was a challenge. But from my perspective as both a teacher and a parent, it was a challenge well-received and one that - after a series of significant hiccups - went pretty well.

That's not a consensus view, I know. Plenty of people want school buildings to open up rather than struggle with the challenges of remote learning again. I miss working directly with my students and want to return, too. I'm all for a return, provided that we can do so safely. The rising numbers in my neck of the woods is troubling and hopefully we can get things under control before September. I'm also fortunate that my school district is starting a week later than most in order to finish some major construction projects at the middle school/high school complex. We are six weeks from the first day. The district is also planning very thoroughly and the plan currently under consideration is sensible and oriented toward safety for us all.

Whatever the return to school buildings (NOTE: not to "school" as some people will claim. Schools didn't close in March, the buildings did. We all continued with school even when working from home - an important distinction)... the return NOT be a return to normal. I think that under it all what we really want when talking about going back to school is a return to "normal". That leaves me in an interesting place where I am planning for something that is not quite clear, or understandable. But that's all things, isn't it? No matter how often we've experienced a certain something, or know what that something has been, it is never the same one year to the next - not even one day to the other. That idea is important to keep me from overthinking things. I'm going to plan for my classes and be more open than ever to the unknown of our hybrid classroom/remote learning model.

I'm excited to return. It's all I can think about and I'm doing my best to temper that excitement so as not to overwhelm my supervisors with questions and ideas that need to take a backseat to the pressing details of just how we all get back into the building safely.

That excitement comes from a love of my work and is further fueled by frustration. We had incredible excitement and momentum surrounding the high school winter musical and the new Theatre classes at the middle school. I know the students feel that frustration, too, and suspect that it will fuel them as it does me. Above all else, this whole experience reminds me the importance of grit and resilience and the need to just keep swimming, especially when the current gets rough.

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Is it Essential?

Teaching at home (both my students and my children) has been, to put it simply, an adjustment. No major crises to report, however. Perhaps, in some ways, the fact that both my wife and I are teachers has contributed to quicker adaptation to the new normal in the time of social distancing. We are finding it not just a complicated time where common errands are now accompanied with mild anxiety and masks, but also an opportunity to reflect on everything: our well-being and work, but also on what is and isn't important to us as a family. Or, to use a phrase we hear everyone right now, the "essential".

That word "essential" is all over the news (well, last I checked... I've made it a point to stop following the news and found it refreshing). I've noticed the word used as a divisive term, but have also found it to be a lens through which to reflect on all aspects of life from work to family, Boiling down curriculum to the essential was a matter of necessity and my wife and I find our teaching all the better for it. In fact, I am eager to see how these revisions will further adapt my work to once we are able to return! Before everything was shut down in mid-March, we were a family constantly on the move - home to school to activities to extra work to other activities to family events to home, etc. With no where to go but home, there has been time each day to reflect and seek out ways to spend our time once school work is complete. For me, that time has been for reading and writing... which really means time for reflecting. It has meant time to seek out, and finally focus on, what is truly essential.

This all leads me to the work I have been doing over the last three weeks leading up to this post. Since 2015, I have managed an online resource of writing and contest opportunities for young playwrights (ages 8-18) around the world. This was a side project during my doctoral research that compiled basic information about the field of work being done that had ancillary relevancy to what eventually became the dissertation. It has been difficult to gauge who is behind the over 3,500 hits that the Young Playwrights Map has received in that time, but someone is finding their way there and using its information. About two years ago, I considered shutting down the Map, but a news article announcing that a young writer in New Jersey would have readings of her work in young playwrights festivals in Arizona and New York (both of which were listed on the site) prompted me to keep it going. It was not until social distancing that I had the time to do a proper update of the information listed, which I completed in mid-April. A conversation with a graduating senior from Niagara University (my alma mater) sparked my curiosity about the potential for the Map to do more than just be a listing of information. I have since embarked upon a series of changes that will transform the site again.

On May 1, the Young Playwrights Map will officially become the Young Playwrights Guide. I have a schedule of insights, advice, and video-recorded conversations that will soon populate the site with a renewed purpose to provide tools for young creators to embark upon, and eventually share, their works. I am so excited by this shift and it has been difficult to keep things under wraps. However, in order to maintain our new family schedule, I am beginning to roll out these changes with small updates to the existing online platforms. The Map website got a makeover this afternoon; social media platforms will follow. I'm also putting together the first few video conversations on a branded YouTube channel and will delve into the world of Instagram, too.

It is interesting (and perhaps a bit morbid) to think that if it were not for a global pandemic, I may not have the time to do the work that I have done. (And I am certainly empathetic to the opposite reality that others may face right now). Reflection is an important part of my work as an educator, artist, and researcher, but also having the time to read Ryan Holiday's The Obstacle is the Way launched me into the right mindset to re-brand the Map into the Guide. As Holiday notes in the book - and in other articles about the idea - It is a matter of how we use crisis, or failure, to reflect on what is essential to revise and to keep moving on.

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The Defense That Almost Wasn't - Two Years Later

Two years ago today, I passed the oral defense of my doctoral dissertation with minor revisions needed. It was the end of one of the biggest accomplishments of my life to date and the start of a new chapter for me professionally. However, I almost didn't make it there that day.

After a 45 minute drive, I found a packed parking garage at the train station and a very long line waiting for spots to open in the overflow lot. They were also understaffed. I watched from the line of cars as my scheduled train came and went and then another. There was another train coming in just a few minutes - the last one I could catch and still possibly make it to the city on time. When I finally got the chance to park, I grabbed my bags, and ran to the closest stairway up to the elevated platform. It is the equivalent of three stories. And I tripped on the way, lodging a rock into my thumb that stayed in place for the following six months. The train conductor saw I was completely winded and gave me a few stops before checking my ticket.

The rest, I guess, is history.

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Rolling for Classroom Engagement

Last year, I returned to the high school classroom after a 15 year hiatus. The schedule was part-time and solely focused on a series of Acting classes. This year, my schedule includes sophomore English and a co-taught humanities-centered class in the school's Leadership Academy. I've enjoyed the new challenges in this work, particularly inspiring students to engage and share in the English classroom. (Theatre students aren't hesitant to share; in fact, it is possible they may share too often!)

As a shy, introverted student myself, I am sensitive to the hesitation and discomfort that teenagers may have about being called upon to answer questions, or (gasp!) read out loud. One solution I've found is in randomizing the way in which students are selected for these tasks.

The first step is always to ask for volunteers, but that typically brings crickets to the room. Another teacher had suggested writing student names on popsicle sticks and drawing those from a jar. Instead, the process in my classroom has been further randomized by a series of cards and a pair of foam dice (that I stole from my children).

 

Foam Dice from Dollar Tree

At the beginning of class, I pass around a set of 24 cards that are numbered from 2-12. Each number is written twice. When it comes time for a question, or to read aloud, I roll the dice and the students holding the resulting number must decide if they want to volunteer to read/answer, or battle it out in a best-of-3 bout of rock/paper/scissors. The card is collected from whomever ends up reading/answering and the next time the number is up, the other person holding it has no choice but to respond. I've been doing this for about two months and it has worked very well. The students are excited by the anticipation of the dice roll and love the rock/paper/scissors battle. What's best is that not one person has refused to read/answer in this format. Thanks to the folks in the weekly #games4ed Twitter chat for sparking my interest in "gamifying" the classroom!

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Oops!

Well, I made it four days straight before missing a post yesterday. On the positive side, that brief run is the most blogging that I have done in a long time. I will keep going from here - probably not with a daily blog post, but at least with some kind of daily writing. I will report back every so often with updates. For now though, I need to get back to packing for our weekend Cub Scout camp out!

I know what I'm doing

Directing Meeka Rising by Carol Korty
NYU New Plays for Young Audiences, 2013

My life in theatre began at age 11 when I spent my first summer working backstage with the summer stock company led by two of my uncles. This introduction came at an integral time in my life and gave me direction toward the place where I am today.

That means I have spent 30 years in the theatre - 20 of them working professionally as an actor, director, dramaturg, and teacher (not necessarily in that order or in those capacities all of the time). Sometimes it is important to reflect on the past to understand how far you've come.

This also gives me the confidence to say that I know what I'm doing and know that I do it well.

Bred for this

Oops! It is a little past midnight on what would be Day 4 of my writing challenge, so technically I missed the third day. However, since I am still up and working through some other projects I will let this one count.

It was a frustrating day today. Thankfully, I had The Daily Stoic: 366 Meditations on Wisdom, Perseverance, and the Art of Living by Ryan Holliday, to meet me at the end. Today's quote for reflection was from Seneca's On Providence, in which he wrote: "Why then are we offended? Why do we complain? This is what we're here for." Holliday's commentary is a reminder that each of us comes from an "impressive tradition" of people who had to bear more difficult struggle. We are "capable of what they are capable of. You're meant for this. Bred for it" (p. 170).

Interesting to put things into that perspective. It seems that the Stoics frequent meditation on struggle is to say something to the effect of "it could be worse". And it certainly could be. Good to acknowledge that in order to more quickly get back to moving forward.

Writing Challenge

The best way to write is to write. In fact, the best way to do anything is to do it. Seems the shoe company slogan ingrained in us late Gen-Xers was on to something.

After completing the dissertation in late December, I took a significant break from writing to allow myself time to decompress and let the reality of what I'd done (and what's to come) a little time to settle in. The honeymoon is over now and it is time to reestablish a writing routine to put the degree to use.

As always, and with anything, the greatest obstacle is time. And the way to "find" time is to make room for it. So as a way to get back into the swing of things without taking on more than my commitments allow, I am giving myself a 10 day writing challenge that begins today with this post. My goal is to take at least 10 minutes each day to share an idea on this blog no matter how small, or large, it may be. I know that having a loose outline is helpful for me to get things moving, so I have come up with a list of potential topics in case I don't find that occasionally elusive "inspiration" to write. While I would like the blog to focus primarily on my work in the theatre classroom, research, etc., but for now anything goes until I find my new groove.

So, mark off Day 1! I will see you back here tomorrow.

Walking

My grandparents' neighborhood was a familiar one to me as a child. A few other relatives lived nearby and I remember playing with some of the neighborhood kids a few houses down. But when I was about 10 years old, I once caused a panic by leaving my grandparents' house for a walk to the edge of their neighborhood.

The story, as I remember it, was that my uncle took a dog for a walk. I don't remember if it was his dog, or a dog he was watching, but they went for a walk. At first, I didn't want to go, but soon after they left I changed my mind and decided I would just try to catch up. The remaining details of the story are fuzzy to me now, but I do remember seeing my uncle a way up ahead on a path heading into the woods by the river. I don't think I called out to him and probably figured I would just catch up so I went into the woods, too. But I never found my uncle. I passed a number of other people, most of them heading in the opposite direction and back out into the neighborhood.

Different trail near the same area
CNY Hiking

This particular path followed the southern bank of the Mohawk River, a tributary of the Hudson River, which flows from Oneida County in Central New York (near where my grandparents lived) east to the Hudson near Albany. It was summer and the path was vibrant and verdant. I remember a big boulder or two and not thinking much about how far I must have walked, or how long I had been gone until I reached the end of the path by a major road. I quickly turned around and made good speed back to the entrance of the trail where I met up with a very worried family. I don't remember if the police were involved in searching for me, but do remember that I had left the family in that kind of panic.

This "exploring" - as I called it as a child - was something I did frequently. Some times it was a walk on the path through the woods behind my house; often it was a trek across neighborhoods on my bike. No matter the method of travel, these journeys make for some of my most enjoyable memories. Of course for these jaunts I made sure to let someone know where I was going. Once among the trees, I would see how far I could go before I couldn't see my house any more. I also tried to get "lost" and orient myself with familiar sites like friends' houses that backed up to the woods, the river path (the Seneca River, this time), or even the sewage treatment plant located deep in the forest. I continued the practice in college with walks along the Niagara River Gorge and even took to the mountains with friends during summer breaks. I even climbed peaks that, in retrospect, I was ill-equipped to manage. I've been on top of a few of the High Peaks in the Adirondack Park, but the pinnacle of these climbs was Mt. Washington in New Hampshire at 6,289 feet thanks in large part to my childhood friend who makes his living as a mountaineer and guide in Alaska for nearly 20 years now. My boneheaded stubbornness, and a youthful ignorance, also helped. Most people train before attempting these kinds of hikes, but I just went out and did it. (Although I've been mollified in this by learning that Theodore Roosevelt did much the same thing in conquering the peaks of the Adirondacks and even the Matterhorn!)

All this to say that I am looking forward to walking again. It has been years since I've made a habit of it and while there can be a number of excuses why I haven't, perhaps it is best to say that our neighborhood is full of nature and very easy to explore: a good start to get back in the habit. The hikes I've taken with my Cub Scouts have encouraged me, too. And who knows... maybe I will wind up tackling another mountain, or two.

Power up!

This morning I wished our Amazon Alexa a "good morning" to which she replied that today is Shigeru Miyamoto's birthday. The creator of Donkey Kong, The Legend of Zelda, and Mario Brothers achieves level 65 today. In celebration, Alexa wished me a day full of power ups. And today, a power up is exactly what I plan to achieve.

Its defense day.

Reflections on a Road Traveled

In eight days, I will begin the end of a very long, laborious, and incredibly rewarding, journey. While sitting to reflect upon this moment, I am flooded with imagery of roads, and cannot escape the idea of the "end of the road". Cue Boyz II Men... or Shel Silverstein... or Robert Frost... or any of the other road/path/trail/journey metaphors that come to mind. In thinking on these I've noticed that the path typically comes in two varieties: the road that ends and the road that doesn't. For much of my life I have thought that I was following Mr. Frost's suggestion in taking the latter, but recently came to understand that I've really only understood the former.

This is not to say that I view a road as the path to some kind of finite end. There is only so much life experience a person can have before realizing that this cannot be the case. Far from it. Yet it is interesting to see that while I was provided with the example of the road less traveled, my expectations have been closely tied to the cause and effect logic of the traditional road map:

• go to school, get career, get married, get family

When I recently eclipsed a "mid-life" milestone and looked back on a life lived so far, I awoke to the realization that there's much, much more to that equation - more so to the idea that equation isn't quite so logical anymore.

To put this another way, when I was younger, I dreamed of what I might become and the things that I might do, but never fully understood that there would be twists and redirections along the way. What's more, I had turned 40 and recognized that any plans I had in life had stopped at some vague age that I had probably passed long ago. A line from the song "My Shot" in the musical Hamilton has resonated with me recently - "See, I never thought I'd live past twenty" - with Hamilton's twenty being the moment when I reached the end of the road map above. And the funny thing about that "road map" is that as I sat here writing it, I struggled with what punctuation to use at the end of the sentence. Is that the end of a sentence and punctuated with a period? To finite. Perhaps an ellipse to signify the continuation of the path? Or maybe it is as my wife has lately and so poignantly suggested about this entire year of reflection: that what is needed is a comma to signify that there's more to come. That this spot, this moment, this job, this whatever is not meant forever, but is instead just a part of the larger story. I like that idea (and that's a smart person there, my wife).

Yet, as I wrote the words and paused to consider what to do next, I was drawn to the flashing cursor sitting there waiting, rhythmically for me to continue. It was an placeholder, simultaneously active and passive, ready for me to get oriented and move again in a specific direction. If I've learned anything in the process of traveling through life, coming to the end of one road is not a symbol of "the end", but a chance to take - or better yet, to MAKE - some new way forward. It is relieving to realize that now and frustrating to have waiting so long to come to this understanding. But I am here now: ready and excited to take a new way forward and see where else I might go and what more I might learn. And this time, I will move ahead with an idea in mind and the clarity to know that while there might be stability in following a more-traveled path, it is always ok - perhaps nowadays even preferred - to take out a machete and make my own way... Cue Frank... or Kermit and Fozzie... or whatever else might be...

Surprises

The past two weeks have been rough. I lost out on a few opportunities I had hoped would work out, but they aren't meant to be at this time. This will pass, of course, but the sting of losing these projects stings. Especially with so many rejections a row.

Turning toward the positive, I am thankful for my wife's understanding and encouragement. She has mourned with me and has been quick to shed light on the brighter side of things. My kids have also seemed to know the right times to say, "I love you, Dad." Another source of encouragement has come in the unlikeliest of places - at the gas station/convenience store down the street.

There are two regular attendants at the gas station - one of them is Charlie. I don't know anything about him, but imagine that just like all of us, he has some difficult days; regardless, he's there with a smile and a kind word for everyone who stops by his corner of the world - even for the briefest moment. So when I swing in for biweekly fill-ups, I try to get a pump in Charlie's section. I like hearing his heartfelt "you have a great day" or even "God bless." The words don't really matter as much as his energy does. A few days ago he noticed that I was dressed for an important meeting and told me to "go get 'em today!" It meant a lot... even though the meeting did not go as planned.

Add to that a small surprise. On Tuesday morning I forgot to pack something for breakfast and went into the mini mart to grab a breakfast sandwich before filling up the car. There were too left in the case and I grabbed the one that was not labeled "sausage." I didn't know exactly what the sandwich was until removing the label that read "beef and cheese charbroiled sandwich" and found that essentially, it was a cheeseburger for breakfast. What can brighten the day more than a surprise cheeseburger for breakfast?

www.pixabay.com

And with all of that, I'm ready to get back into the arena. I am pushing hard for better results next time around, but understand that there will be more set backs. No matter what may come, it is important to remember to enjoy the good things - the large and the small - and remember that sometimes, if I'm really lucky, I might just get a cheeseburger for breakfast.

A Walk in the Woods

Ths family of geese decided the water
was a better place to be than on the
bank with a bunch of Cub Scouts!

The early afternoon was spent on a hike with my oldest and his Cub Scout den. This was our second time hiking with the Scouts, but the first full hike with gear. We had a great time - despite the abundant ticks - and were grateful that the morning rain didn't make things too muddy to walk the trail.

I was reminded of how much I enjoy being in the woods and embarking on an adventure. As a kid, I took walks in the woods behind my house whenever I felt the need for a little adventure, or to simply clear my mind. Eventually, my two closest friends and I made annual summer journeys hiking and canoeing in the Adirondacks.

Tree tops above the fire pit where we
ended the hike. The sky was gorgeous.

The summer before my senior year of college, I climbed to the top of Mount Washington with one of these friends (who was training to be a mountaineer) and his brother. Mount Washington stands as the tallest peak in the White Mountains of New Hampshire at 6,289 feet. That is about 2,000 feet above the tree line where trees can no longer grow. The view is one I will never forget. I have no idea what possessed me to make this climb (and descent), especially all in one day; it was a big challenge and a whole lot of fun. To this day, I chuckle at the bumper stickers that proclaim: "This car climbed Mount Washington." Oh, yeah? So did my knees!

I have been longing for a trek like this for a while now and am glad my son had such a good time. Can't wait to get out in the woods again! (This time, I'll bring some bug spray.)