How’s this for an Action Plan? Survival. Hanging on. Getting through. Soul-shaking tragedy, loss, trauma. To be clear. I most certainly owe a separate blog post to a personal journey of healing, filled with endless gratitude towards a community of colleagues, friends and family that spreads well beyond that of the great school at which I work, live and be. And really, truly (deeply, fully, endlessly) thank you! Indeed, at some point, I will step back and identify my journey as one running parallel to that of Rosseau Lake College while capturing my astonishment for the overwhelming power of youth. I mean, how often do we step back to truly and simply consider our privilege to share space daily with young minds and spirits? A wild, forever morphing, messy, mixed-up collage of ideas, anxieties, ambitions, fears, epiphanies, heartbreak, excitement, anger, laughter, sorrow. Energy. Even that absence of energy. Life! Maybe it’s an entire novel I owe, with chapters titled “Gratitude” and “Humility” and “Vulnerability” and “Breathe” and “Kindness” and “Courage” and “Owls” and, even, “F-ck It!” Perhaps I’d devote a chapter to my beautiful Dad and call it “Piece of Cake.” This novel would most certainly require a chapter attempting to capture the wisdom of my amazing friend Robert titled “Why Wait.” 

In recent days, however, I’ve been overcome with an exhaustion for solely surviving, hanging on and getting through. It doesn’t feel like much of an Action Plan. if, for so long, I’ve felt challenged to simply show up, I am now parched. I am officially thirsty for more. I’m sure it’s a common thread for all of us after experiences that connect us immediately, unmistakably and deeply to the larger questions of life (its realities as well as its mysteries) to fall deeply into self reflection. How am I living? Am I? Furthermore, the experience of loss seems to ask more of us as we seek to honour a life by honouring all of life. Soon after the accident, Robert’s sister captured an important piece of his essence, knowing he would turn tragedy into something “awesome.” For me, many layers of this noble challenge are emerging on the many fronts and roles of my life… including one of my life’s passions. Education! And this is the piece I will share here.

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“You have exactly 90 minutes to complete this exam, starting…. now!”

I find myself in continuous contemplation of the perhaps unhealthy correlation between speed and leaning. The two concepts it seems are, for better or for worse (richer or poorer till death do them part?), connected. Should they be? The urgency we create in a class (a moment, a task) too often reflects our fixation with outcomes and achievement: “there is a medal to be won at the end of this race.” Do it right. Do it well. And, for goodness sake, do it “on time.” Look no further than the hardware awarded annually at a school’s closing day ceremony. Think of the less obvious “hardware” we award daily. An ‘A’ is of course a medal because we treat it as currency. And, because we’re urgent in our learning, we actively tarnish that medal as time expires. When we ask a question in class, we too often require an answer now. The one who finds it first is recognized and therefore rewarded. 

“You now have sixty minutes to complete this exam, and you should be well into section two.”

Speed and intelligence. Learning and urgency. I believe we now know these pairings do not correlate. There is, in fact, no relationship between speed and intelligence except for the widespread bias we maintain towards it. Yet, somehow, we insist upon this correlation. In some ways, of course, it’s yet another take on a tired, recurring theme: the challenge of fully abstracting our pedagogy from the traditions embedded within not only education, but also ourselves. We are bi-products, and our conditioning runs as deep as the philosophical underpinnings. In this case, the ways in which we treat time. Most frightening for me is how my approaches and reactions to learning too often (still!) run counter to my personal value system or philosophies; it is my subconscious self too often guiding the ship as a direct reference to my own experience, which is as normal as Jeopardy at 7:30 and hockey on Saturday night. I am designing curriculum and programming while sometimes trudging uphill through muck, while also deprogramming my operating system. That’s a lot of work!

“You have entered the final thirty minutes of this exam. By now, you should be well into section three.”

The disruption of a pandemic, of course, has brought the issue of time to the forefront. As we find ourselves continuously re-evaluating the very concept of learning at large, we have also (I believe) begun to identify the urgent use of time as the enemy. Just as we do when prioritizing health and balance in our personal lives, in education we are now thinking deeply about how much time we have, how it is divided, and yes, how it is used. As we contemplate our classroom cultures, I believe our value systems have rapidly shifted. Concerns for health, safety, culture, collaboration and connection, and pure old fashioned FUN and JOY (!!!) now sit at the forefront of design. Each of these concepts require the gift of time and run counter to urgency. Where on your list, or value system, do you now make a direct reference to urgency (content, curriculum)? Fifth? Eighth? 

“Please put your pencils down. Time has expired.”

That’s right kids! You may not continue with that thought process. You have lost the opportunity to demonstrate your learning. Please stop thinking and expressing and formulating  and solving and…

My good friend and fellow dreamer  @ddoucet and I have been collaborating in recent years reclaiming the word ‘crazy’, as we continue to build our perspective of education at large, understanding its need for more, different, other. Vast and profound disruption. Being courageous or “crazy” enough to upend a value system. And not just in belief but in practice. “Unleash Your Inner Crazy!” Perhaps it’s incumbent upon all of us to harness THIS time. THIS time in which upending a value system doesn’t feel so crazy. Actually, more than anything, it simply feels right. 

The magic is in the moment. And you will only find it if you choose to enter the moment. That is also where you will find the learning and growth. Experience. In that moment you may discover empathy and connection and understanding. The opportunity to affect. To teach! From a student’s perspective, it is where learning becomes embedded, and remembered in such a way that it may never truly be forgotten. 

ps. I took six days to write this blog post because, well, that’s how long it took to write this blog post. 

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And finally, if you’re interested, a quick personal reflection capturing my own interaction with time over these six months since losing our dear Robert… My most peaceful, healing, hopeful moments have occurred in my willful slowing of time. Breathing and dropping my shoulders, the sensation of it all washing away, however briefly, entering the moment purely. Pure connection and fun, indulging in the beautifully wild and elaborate imaginary worlds of my own two kids (I recommend to anyone the experience of truly living in the mind of a 5 or 8 year old!). Looking up. Before November, I’d never seen an owl. Now I’ve seen many. Explain that! Last week, desperate to slow a spiralling mind, I took a solo paddle around Skeleton Lake and came face to face with a huge snowy. Have you ever had the experience of a stare-down with an owl – its wise, other-worldly, mythical face offering a clear view into your soul? Haunting. Stirring. Exhilarating. Extending the discussion with a class, with a student, a colleague. Allowing myself to be steered off course. A friend currently working with Middle School students in Cape Breton recently relayed a story of the many extra hours he’s taken with a particular boy who struggles endlessly in the regular flow. Building sets together for a school play. It took trust and the power of a jigsaw to reveal, for the first time, joy. A pure smile. Imagine the impact made on a life, through the simple choice to honour time.