Depression

As a note: I've been diagnosed with what, at the time, was called dysthymia. It is now called persistent depressive disorder. I do not claim to speak for all people with depression.

A psychiatrist once told me that when depressed, a person's brain is stuck on one channel: The Depression. With respect to her, I disagree. In my experience, Depression is a cable TV subscription with only certain channels available. Here's a description of the channels available to me when I'm depressed along with their hit shows. 

• Loneliness: No One I Know Understands This
• Futility: There's No Light At the End of This Tunnel
• Wrongness: Everyone Else Has It Together; I'm So Broken
• White Noise: (it's just static and white noise. No programming)
• Guilt: People Have It Worse Elsewhere So Why Are You So Sad
• Anxiety: Oh God, What If
• Temporary Respite: programming varies, but it's only available at limited, unscheduled times

...and the program that plays on every channel: Negative Self Talk.

So...that's what's going on in my brain when I'm depressed.

Now, lots of us can put on a happy, upbeat exterior as a survival mechanism. This could be for career reasons, social reasons, any number of things. But many of us can do it.

It. Is. Exhausting. 

It's play-acting every interaction of the day to try to ensure I don't make anything worse. And it makes it hard to do anything other than go home and rest at the end of the day. And when I get home? The only channels to choose from are those listed above.

Now...I'm a teacher, and I'm connected...

...side note. You know that part of the The Avengers when Cap tells Bruce Banner to get angry?  Banner says, "That's my secret, Cap. I'm always angry." That's like me. But with depression. Just sometimes it's...more intense.

Anyway, I'm a connected educator and I see well-meaning, well-intentioned things that other educators put out online as a way to help students, or for admin to help teachers. Some of it may not come across as intended. Again, this is a very personal blog post, so this is in no way intended to be universal. But I can't be alone in this. Good gracious I hope I'm not alone in this. Anyway, here goes:

1) "Choose happiness," Or "Happiness is a conscious choice." Um. How do I react to this? "No thanks! I'd rather feel utterly worthless!" If it were as simple as deciding to do things that made me happy? DONE. Whee! Unfortunately, one symptom of depression is losing interest in things that used to make you happy. The Enjoyment of Things Channel got bumped to premium and I don't have that subscription. Better reaction? Just acknowledging that feelings of sadness, loneliness, anxiety, etc. are universal and it's okay to feel them. And affirm that all people feel them sometimes.

2) Generalized statements like murals or tweets that say "You are loved," or "You belong." When a person is depressed, the brain lies to that person. It will tell us, "They are loved. But not you." Or "They belong. But you're bad and wrong and weird. They don't want you." Some might be able to connect with a generic positive statement, but many of us feel left out of them. You need to be specific. You need to see a person - a kid, a teacher, a community member - and see they're struggling, and be intentional and specific. "I love you." Or "I'm glad you are my friend/colleague/student/whoever."

3) This is my least favorite. "There's no shame in seeking help." Or "Please reach out for help." First, our healthcare system in the U.S., well, there's no polite way for me to say that it sucks. But it does. First, it's expensive. I've had times as a teacher that I couldn't afford therapy even if I knew where to look for it. Also, it's really complicated. Here's a breakdown of some questions that I've had: Who treats depression in my area? Are they any good? Do they take my insurance (if I have any)? What are their rates? How easy is it to get there? Will it be a good fit? What if I have a bad experience? Am I worth it? Are they taking new patients? When can I get in? Can I wait 6 weeks if that's the next opening? What if it doesn't work? All of this leads me to my "Next." Next, when depressed, it's hard to carry out complex tasks, especially when we're working really hard to be great at work and do basic things at home.

Listen, if I'm eating cereal for dinner and have to give myself a pep talk to get in the shower, then making that call is going to feel akin to single-handedly inventing a manned Mars lander. Instead, offer to help someone through the process. Help research, offer a ride, check in with the person during the wait time between call and appointment.

And the bottom line: if I don't see something relatable - if all I see is funshine and joy, my "I'm okay" mask is going to stay up. I won't show you the part of me that's hurting. There's enough out there in education or other professional spheres that indicate we should stay away from "negative people." The moment I open up about how I'm really doing, well, there's a label for depressed people. And even if I don't think it would hurt me? I don't want to feel responsible for dimming that light. That's another program on the Guilt Channel.

A personal note: right now, I feel very lucky to work at a site with a staff that accepts and supports those of us who struggle. We're a tight-knit, honest staff that will be there when we are dealing with hard things, and celebrate when things are going right - personally or professionally. I wish that for everyone.

On Pressure and Summer Work

A couple of days ago, an education themed account tweeted out the following:

https://twitter.com/SteeleThoughts/status/1000152401955958784

To which, another account replied:

https://twitter.com/TheWeirdTeacher/status/1000914300817608704

And...all hell broke loose.

High-follower accounts quickly rushed to the defense of the original Tweeter, telling Doug that he had misread the intent of the tweet, that yes, Good Teachers do work over summer, and that his response was "poisonous."

The original tweet and the backlash to Doug's tweet really bothered me, and it's taken a few days to really figure out why. Here it is:

The original tweet gives teachers "permission" to do unpaid labor. People love to chide us over summer vacation. And we tend to respond in one of two ways:

1. But I *do* work over summer! I do all kinds of things over summer!
2. I don't get paid for that time.

And really? For most of us that's true. I used to go in two weeks early during a 6 week summer break to make sure scheduling was correct. This summer I'll be taking classes and working on curriculum. And I'll be taking classes (at my own expense) to improve my practice.

But here's where the original tweet bugs me: nearly 80% of teachers are women. There have been studies and talk about the second shift and the unpaid labor we do in our regular, day-to-day lives. Women are often expected to do the unpaid labor just as part of our expected role in society.

So we get to teaching and summers. It is unpaid. But the original tweet says "Good teachers" will spend time over the summer improving their lessons. The implication is that teachers who don't spend some time over summer doing this do not fall into the category of "good teachers." So in order to meet the expectations of the job, a white male administrator is suggesting that a nearly 80% female workforce has to do unpaid labor.

Here's another thing: in this country, we don't need societal permission to take on extra work. American culture is so much driven by work and productivity. People who work more than expected are valued. We don't value leisure or vacation time. The more radical and supportive statement would be to grant permission for teachers to take their unpaid time and do with it what they will. Do unpaid labor? If that's your choice, good. Relax and spend time with the family? Also good. Take classes, get a summer job, go on a trip? Good, good, good. That would be supportive. Instead, the phrasing of the tweet grants permission for a largely women-staffed workforce to take on unpaid labor, implying that those who don't are not in the in-group of "good teachers."

And it's a male authority figure making that call.

So from where I'm sitting, I see this:

* A male administrator states that a majority-female workforce needs to put in work during unpaid time in order to be considered "good" at their job.
* A male tweeter takes exception to that and says so, publicly.
* Several other male high-follower accounts rush to defend the original tweeter and try to paint the objector as unable to read, unable to understand intent, being a "poison," and generally not being nice.

Meanwhile women need to be exceptional in their jobs - wherever those jobs are - to be taken seriously, we need to put in extra hours, unpaid, and statistically we need to take up slack at home.

How about this: if we need to take time over summer to be "good teachers," then pay us. Teachers are literally donating plasma to make ends meet. It could be hourly. We could document our summer hours and then get compensation. If this is something that "good teachers just do," then value our labor and our time and pay us. Don't expect to tell us what to do with our unpaid time and then vilify those that push back. If this is what's needed, then put your money where your mouth is and pay us for our work.

Some of us will work over the summer. I will, this year. Yes, unpaid. But this latest kerfuffle seems to me to be men telling (mostly) women what they should do with their free time. And it's not taking a break.

Accommodations Don't Lower the Standard

I tried several ways to make the intro to this post very general, but I don't know how to. It's inspired by a short thread I saw on Twitter this morning, mocking a graphic that promotes "differentiation." The article accompanying the graphic referenced students with disabilities, accommodations, and collaborating with special educators, so if one were to click the link and read the article it was pretty obvious that the graphic referred to students with disabilities. However, when people brought up the fact that the graphic was geared toward students with disabilities, the person who posted the thread either ignored them or accused them of a "non sequitur." The people replying to the thread generally responded with comments ridiculing kids for wanting to sit next to their friends, or jokes about kids who can only express their ideas through interpretive dance instead of writing an essay, and a whole lot of talk about "lowering the standard."

I've seen each accommodation I've ever written into an IEP slammed as "lowering the standard," both on social media and in real life. Even with extensive medical, cognitive, academic, speech, motor, etc. etc. etc. evaluation, with loads of data compiled into a multidisciplinary report, accommodations are often given the side eye. Even with specific recommendations from school psychologists who are experts in this field, accommodations are often only grudgingly adhered to because it's the law do to so. A lot of time, consideration, and research has been put into planning how best to facilitate access for these kids based on their individual needs.

I come away convinced that for many people, not being able to see a disability means that even provided with standard scores and percentiles they won't believe that a student needs accommodation. This morning's thread is an example of that - none of the kids in the graphic are in wheelchairs, so even though the accompanying article mentions special educators and students with disabilities, the default assumption was that that kids in the graphic were neurotypical, just looking to get out of school work.

We can all agree (I hope) that providing a wheelchair to a student who has difficulty walking due to a disability doesn't "lower the standard" in a PE class. Providing glasses to a student who is nearsighted doesn't "lower the standard" for seeing the board. Providing hearing aids to a student who is hard of hearing doesn't "lower the standard" for listening.

How about providing visual supports for students with auditory processing disorder or autism? Or providing audio books along with the written text for students with dyslexia? How about speech-to-text software for students with dysgraphia, or other difficulties with fine motor? Or what about providing a timer for timed breaks for kids with attention issues?

Instead of focusing on how an accommodation may be unfair or "lower the standard," consider what is being suggested, and what skills you are evaluating.

I can't think of an instance where allowing a student to type instead of handwrite "lowers the standard" unless the skill being evaluated is literal handwriting. Allowing a student to use a notecard with math formulas on a test doesn't "lower the standard" unless the skill being evaluated is memorizing math formulas. Allowing a student to follow along with an audio book while they read doesn't "lower the standard" unless you're evaluating decoding skills. Providing written as well as spoken directions doesn't "lower the standard" unless you're evaluating listening comprehension. Allowing a student to dictate an essay or long form response doesn't "lower the standard" unless you're evaluating the action of writing or typing. For kids with motor skills deficits, or auditory processing disorder, or dyslexia, or autism, these accommodations may be necessary in order to evaluate their ability to communicate what they know, or to apply concepts, or comprehend written information, or follow multi-step directions. Accommodations aren't meant to lower standards, they're meant to allow access to those standards.

And who decides what accommodations are appropriate and which ones are not? It's a team decision, of course. The parents provide input - a disability needs accommodation at home, too, and parents know their children the best. The school psychologist provides input - they are specialists who have studied both education and psychology and provide important context into how a student's brain is working in relation to an "average" student. The special education teacher provides input - we have training and experience in what an accommodation may look like in a classroom. The general education teacher has input, as well - they can provide input into what is realistic to expect in a classroom of 35 students, and which of several options to accommodate a disability will work best in that classroom. As a student grows and matures, that student becomes the most important contributor to the team - a student can provide insight that no one else can provide: what accommodations they prefer to use.

But what is not okay is unilaterally deciding that an accommodation is unfair or not effective. It's not okay to mock students needing accommodations, even if it's in the context of using a hypothetical student to blow off steam on social media. It is certainly not okay to dismiss a multidisciplinary report and suggest that if a student has a learning disability in the area of reading or math or writing, or motor skills, that they simply need to practice more. If an accommodation is too burdensome, be part of the team. Help brainstorm how best to facilitate access that works for the student and for your class. Talk to the student, the parents, the special educator, the school psychologist.

What do we communicate when we decide that a student's input into their needs is something to mock and dismiss? What do we communicate when we say it's too much work to accommodate a disability? What do we communicate when we generalize that kids are just looking to get off easy, and using their disability to do so? And believe me, kids are good at noticing. Even if a teacher doesn't say a thing to their face, a kid knows when that teacher doesn't believe their disability is real. They know when a teacher thinks an accommodation is too burdensome. They know when they're being written off. And that message gets internalized, and fast.

Mental Health for Teachers

As we close Mental Health Awareness Month, I'd like to share a story. At the beginning of my fourth year teaching, the Superintendent brought in a motivational speaker. The district was going through tough times, and the speaker was meant to improve morale.

The theme? We can't choose our circumstances, but we can choose our reaction to them. If we are unhappy, it is because we choose to be unhappy. There is a way to be positive even in the worst of times. I came away with the message that any negativity is our fault for not looking for the beauty of a rainstorm.

Background:

The year prior, I found out the day before school started that I was unexpectedly pregnant. My brother-in-law had been diagnosed with cancer and that was in addition to his previous diagnosis of ALS. My grandmother passed away, and then shortly before my son was born, my father-in-law unexpectedly passed away.

At the start of my fourth year teaching, my husband's unemployment from losing his job in the recession ran out before he could secure a job in a county with 14% unemployment overall. Then we found out my mom had cancer.

Sometimes the rainstorm is just a shitty rainstorm and we can't find the beauty in it while the basement floods.

Amid this "find your positivity" yearlong theme, my mom passed away, then we had to move to a smaller house and found it shared property with neighbors who had....frequent visits from the sheriff. Then my brother-in-law passed away and shortly thereafter my grandfather passed away as well.

I don't know if you have experience with depression, situational or not, but my husband and I both got slammed at the same time. It was a really, really hard time.

As teachers we have a lot of pressure put upon us. I was under pressure as a teacher new to the district to be "on" at all times. I remember my formal observations that first year - one in the midst of first trimester morning sickness, exhaustion, and round ligament pain; the second just before the 9th month when every step was excruciating. I was told that I needed to be more enthusiastic and energetic with my students. "I'm not saying that you're not a good teacher. But if you could just...step up the energy a little, you would be a great teacher."

After my mom passed away, the same administrator commented to my BTSA support provider and another teacher that he was worried my performance was slipping. Then another teacher offered to cover my afternoon class every Wednesday so I could attend a hospice support group. I declined, worried that regular, frequent absences would compound the "slipping performance" impression, even if the reason was therapeutic. I didn't have faith that seeking mental health support wouldn't backfire big time, and being the sole provider for a family of three, I didn't want to take the risk. I pushed through. Eventually I did seek assistance through the Employee Assistance Program only to find that there were precisely zero local mental health providers contracted with the program. When I told our benefits coordinator she was surprised, which is dismaying in itself. What good is an Employee Assistance Program if no one in the district knows what is actually accessible?

So teachers. We need self-care. But for some of us, a motivational speaker and positive thinking won't do it. We need an environment that feels secure and supportive as much as we need regular exercise. We need an effective Employee Assistance Program that covers mental health and has referrals to local providers as much as we need regular, quality sleep. We need to know that if we seek mental health services there will be no retaliation. This is a demanding and exhausting job in the best of times. We need to know that when we are facing tough times that our district will have our back, rather than send us the message that any negativity is our fault for not looking for the beauty of a rainstorm.

Open the Door

When I taught high school resource, half of my day was spent teaching history, 1/4 was spent teaching a resource pull-out class, and 1/4 of my day was for prep, writing IEPs, and pushing into general education classrooms. There was a question I got often.

General Ed Teacher: "I have prep 4th period, are you teaching then? I'd like to work on something with you."

Me: "I have pull-out time then, so yeah, I have students in my class."

General Ed Teacher: "Oh! Okay, so you're not teaching, though? Can you come by my room then?"

In this case, innocent enough. I wasn't teaching something that most general education teachers can relate to. My job is a mystery, full of acronyms and ideas hard to translate from special education jargon to general education jargon. It's a reality of the job, and that's okay. 

Then there was this:

General Education Teacher: "This class sizes are out of control. I have 35 in my 5th period algebra class. How many do you have in your biggest class?"

Me: :embarrassed: "Um, well...I have 21."

General Education Teacher: "21? Seriously? So you see what, 65 kids over the course of a week? I have over 180!"

Or this: 

General Education Teacher: "Kid X failed the final, but they have a C overall in class. Why do I have to pass them? They got a 57% on the final, which means they didn't learn anything in class."

Me: "Getting a 57% on the final means they got a 57% on one test on one day..."

The teacher turned, walked away, then shouted across the main office, "SPOKEN LIKE A TRUE SPECIAL ED TEACHER."

I don't get angry at these comments anymore. OK, I got angry at the teacher who tried to humiliate me in the office. But these comments are generally born of ignorance, not malice. We don't share experiences. I don't have 180 essays to grade or had 40 students in one class period. By the same token, the teachers making those comments have never written an IEP or administered the Woodcock-Johnson.

My BTSA support provider was an English teacher. She had never supported a special education teacher before, so she was surprised to find that my resource pull-out classes were full of activity. She made the comment, "I'd thought these pull-out classes were just another study hall period. Wow, you keep these kids moving!" Yep. They had individual goals to work on, and post-high school planning to do. After seeing my class in action, my support provider made it a point to correct other teachers who expected me to be available to meet during my pull-out time: "It's not a free period for the resource teachers. They're teaching during that time."

I'd love for more teachers to come visit my class. I'd also love to go visit more general education classes. I think we have a lot to offer each other and it would only benefit students to foster more understanding across domains and subject areas. Not just between special education and general ed, but between career/technical education and college-prep. Fine arts and science. Math and world languages. How do we foster understanding and break down ignorance of what other teachers do? We go see them in action.

It's a practice that needs support from administration - in order to be able to visit other teachers during class time, we need to be provided time to do so. It also needs buy-in from other teachers. We need to be willing not only to open our doors, but to step outside of them and seek out teachers we may not know very well. That takes some bravery and a school culture that fosters trust and willingness to add one more item to an overfull plate. We need to trust that taking our already precious time to visit will be valuable.

At the end of ten years of teaching I've seen this in action once. It led to a lot of great collaboration across disciplines that extended beyond the end of the class visitation program. Is this happening in your schools? What does that administrative support look like? How much buy-in among teachers is there? Is it ongoing or was it one-off? What happens after the visits?

Not A Fidget Spinner Post (I Promise)

These are examples of statements I've seen on Twitter in the last few weeks...

"Fidget spinners are distractions, not focus tools."

"If kids are in an environment conducive to learning, students are provided choice, and the lesson is engaging, they won't get distracted!"

Time out. Wait. No.

First...we need to address this idea that distractions are a Very Bad Thing that Shouldn't Happen.

People (not only kids), but People have always and will always be distracted from learning. It's just how we work, even when we're working on something we've chosen, in an environment we choose, and on an activity we enjoy.

Lord of the Rings. Fantastic, beautiful, epic. I wanted to read it before seeing the movies. I wanted to see the movies in the theater. And I didn't want to hear spoilers, so I wanted to see it pretty soon after it opened. Having been an avid reader at the time, I looked at the length of The Fellowship of the Ring  and figured "No problem, a week - tops - and I'll be ready."

You guys that first book is a SLOG. It's great. It's detailed, it sets up the rest of the trilogy beautifully. And it's exposition. Reading it was a chore. It was a chore I chose. It was one I was motivated to complete - on a deadline - but I had to put it down a LOT.

Hard work is...hard. In order to take it all in, I had to take time to let my brain simmer for a bit. I was...distracted...from the book. The book I was really, really motivated to read. I had to read in small segments, put the book down, get a snack (or call a friend, or go for a walk, or or or...) before I was mentally ready to dive in again.

Another example. I used to draw. A lot. Creating art was definitely a choice, something I could do where I felt comfortable, and something motivating. I can only do it for about 15 minutes at a time before I need a break, though, because it's hard work.

 Done in 15 minute increments with...uh...lots of breaks. Pardon the low light and poor quality - my scanner broke :(

Adults can only last so long, even when engaged in highly preferred activities, before we start to mentally check out: check our phone, clean up a mess, text or call a friend, get a snack, etc. What are we saying when we suggest that kids should make it through a rigorous lesson without being distracted? We're assigning superhuman traits to children. We're holding them to expectations that we ourselves can't possibly meet.

Of course we do what we can to minimize distraction: incorporate movement, flexible seating, provide choice in activities, allow students to work alone or in groups, etc., etc., etc.

But attention is a variable, and while there are a variety of guidelines online (one minute per year of age! Child's age plus one minute! 2-5 minutes per year of age!), these are all guidelines. And every day is going to be different - is the student hungry? Sleepy? Arguing with friends? Even within the day a child's attention and behavior will vary. I remember telling more than one student that I saw in morning and afternoon classes that I noticed a difference and brainstormed ways to help keep focus during their trouble time.

Even a rockstar teacher who differentiates like a boss and provides optimal learning spaces and agency for their students can't fight this. One student might be really motivated in a subject and able to pay attention for ten full minutes, while the student next to them needs that brain break after five. I'm not talking about students with disabilities at this moment. I'm talking about natural variation from individual to individual.

We take these breaks as adults all the time. We expect it of ourselves. But apparently now we're expecting children to go distraction-free for the entirety of a lesson? Or for all students to lose attention at the same time (on our timetable)? Of course we really don't. We work with our kids every day and we see it. We understand that kids will daydream, or tap their pencil, or draw pictures. And if we expect children to participate with 100% engagement on all the variety of awesome lessons we teach in the 90 minutes between recess and lunch, then we're gonna have a Bad Time.

We can even plan for distraction. By all means ban the fidget spinner if you want to and don't feel guilty about it. Make the pencil tappers put away their pencils if that's That Thing You Can't Abide. The key thing is to teach kids How To Be Distracted. Get a drink of water. Go to the bathroom. Check e-mail. Do work for another subject for a few minutes. Clean out the backpack. Whatever it is, do it, then get back to work. This is how we operate as adults, it's adaptive, it's not punitive, and it works within reality.

Second...now that we've talked about the fact that everyone gets distracted, we need to talk about the implication that when kids are distracted, it's because of poor lesson design.

Maybe sometimes it is. Maybe a teacher is really frustrated that their kids are off-task more than they should be and they need ideas. By all means, if you have an idea that could help, share it! Share it in a supportive, encouraging way! We're all in this together, and hopefully we're operating from a place where we want what's best for our students.

So why that suggestion above, then? Why this suggestion that when kids do what people naturally do - get distracted - it's a poor reflection on the teacher? It's an easy set-up and attack, and it's the cheapest of shots because it happens even in the most engaging of classrooms. Here's the thing: we're already criticized by people who have no idea how difficult it is to run a classroom. So why do it to ourselves?

We can provide support, we can make suggestions, share ideas. We can commiserate if that's what someone is looking for. But we shouldn't turn and  blame each other for our students engaging in natural human behavior.

Intro, Or, How I Decided To Do The Thing Teachers On Twitter Do

About a year and a half ago, a presenter at a California Teacher's Association conference had almost convinced me that the best free professional development could be found on Twitter dot com. I had tried Twitter, years before. I had really tried to get into it, or even start to understand it. Thirty followers and a couple of years of use and I still felt like I was shouting into a void. If not shouting, then at the very least talking to nobody.

Then, after reluctantly setting up a separate teacher account, I was ready to check out hashtags and discover #edutwitter.

Six months and thirty followers later, I was...lurking? Clicking hashtags and not understanding how chats work? Talking about my class and getting no feedback? Discovering the Swamp of Sadness that is the #homework debate?

With some luck, I found #WeirdEd and all the wonderful people there. I started participating. I started being able to see patterns in what's posted, get overwhelmed, and find a hint of snark. I started accumulating followers....and reading some great content. And I started getting Opinions On Things.

The natural progression here, then, is

1. Join Twitter. Harry Potter and about 28 other people follow you.
2. Post single tweets, lurk in chats. Follow people.
3. Participate in chats. Gain followers, follow more people.
4. Read cool stuff.
5. Oh My Goodness I Have Thoughts On That.
6. Initiate Tweet Storms.
7. Finally find that thing that demands more space than a tweet storm should have.
8. Resist.
9. Give in and start a blog.

So here we are...I don't have a fancy title for this thing yet, just a couple of things I wanted to say. Enjoy!