I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough of my couch, my office, my desk, my computer screen--really, my house. As infection rates in my community remain high, I continue to avoid gatherings with others as much as possible. It’s pretty isolating. The only songs I want to sing of myself are blues songs--and not very good ones--about sitting at home. I feel cut off from the confluence of forces that usually keep me lively, good-natured, funny, and focused.
I can say with confidence that being a part of a professional community helps me to hold onto community even as I feel isolated, and it has always helped me to see myself as a professional with a particular teacher identity. When I received my teaching certification from Pitt back in 2012, professors there encouraged us to participate in groups like the National Council for Teachers of English (NCTE) and local affiliates like the Pennsylvania Council for Teachers of English and Language Arts (PCTELA). I’ve since found the Bread Loaf Teacher Network (BLTN) and, more recently, the Western Pennsylvania Council for Teachers of English (WPCTE). For me, these groups helped me to maintain a continuity of vision and purpose throughout a tumultuous early career; they have kept me grounded in my “why,” even as I experienced difficulties.
In 2019, I developed a meditation on the way my professional communities and relationships had informed my teaching and the ways in which my teaching networks had served as a form of self-care, which I shared with a small group at the Penn Stater at the PCTELA annual conference. An attendee there encouraged me to further develop the presentation and propose it to NCTE as well. Imagine my delight and surprise when I was chosen to present “Refining a Teacher Identity through the Confluence of Your Teacher Family's Influences” (in poster version) at NCTE 2020 in Denver! And imagine my subsequent disappointment when that conference was canceled early this year.
In the end, NCTE’s 2020 conference did happen after all, in a virtual format, and I was still able to present. I found myself thinking again about how to share this information in a way that would mean something to others. You can click here for my poster, or here for the guided tour (or see both on the NCTE conference platform here). The creation of this poster was a fusion of my original vision (which was a tri-fold game board and a set of blank trading cards to distribute to those who came over to discuss it with me) and a 2020 teacher favorite, the hyperdoc (a concept covered in Casey Sirochman’s September Virtual PD blog post). I enjoyed the challenge of creating a digital document that maintained the playful element of the game board and the idea of “collecting” the wisdom of different educators who fit the various “archetypes” I described.
Nevertheless, I was still disappointed not to be in Denver. It was difficult for me to bring myself to take the time to familiarize myself with the virtual platform. How could they possibly convey the feeling of being among friends and colleagues from across the country? I wondered. How could this feel like anything more than a consolation prize for the conference-that-couldn’t-be?
I don’t know how many of you know NCTE president and 2020 conference organizer Alfredo Lujan (you may remember he was an active part of NCTE’s weekly events over the Summer), but as soon as I logged in to the conference, I realized I was wrong to doubt that he could produce anything short of magic. The opening session reenergized me immediately. Lujan reminisced about his creative process coming up with the theme for this conference in--of all places--Pittsburgh! After flexing some Pittsburghese and showcasing some lovely author contributions, he turned it over and we heard from keynote speaker Trevor Noah. The serendipity continued, because Noah’s memoir Born a Crime had come up when we discussed This Book is Anti-Racist by Tiffany Jewell at a WPCTE book club in the Summer Series. WPCTE founder John Manear had mentioned it as part of his curriculum, and the new young-adult adaptation of the book is included in the EnglishFest titles this year! Hearing Trevor Noah speak passionately about his love for English teachers and connecting his own experiences with Lujan’s reminded me, once again, of my “why.”
Conferences tend to do that to me. Every time I attend one, no matter if I’m presenting or not, no matter how much of a hassle I have to go through to attend, they remind me of the importance of what I do--what we do together. So while we couldn’t be together with colleagues in Denver this year, and while we can’t be together in person for WPCTE’s EnglishFest this year (which lives on in a virtual format) or at PCTELA’s annual conference (which has been canceled), we have to hang on to our “why,” and remind one another. Some of us may not even be present with our students or colleagues this year, so virtual togetherness is more important than ever.
As a cyber school teacher, I’ve often been asked over the course of my career how I build community with my students, and I always have answers; I even wrote about it for this blog. If we center virtual community-building not just for our students but for us, we can do it. This blog. Cheerful chats. Book clubs. Social media communities. Even text messages, emails, and phone calls to our colleagues just to check in. All of these matter. They mean something. They keep us grounded in our “why.”
As we move on to a new year, look back at 2020 and consider your teacher family. Think of your colleagues in your district, your social network, and your professional organizations. Consider thanking someone for the role they play in helping you fill out your teacher identity, and remember that you are giving of yourself to other educators as well as students.
Through singing that old song of ourselves--the one we remember from when things weren’t quite so hard--we can remind ourselves and one another of our individual and collective teacher identities, our “why,” and our work. The confluence of our voices--separated by distances great and small, though they may be--is what makes the song that sustains us.
And we won’t always be singing apart; we will be together again. New things await us, together, in the new year.
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