Digital Technologies in teaching elementary students

 (This post is an assignment for my EDCI 520 class at Purdue.) 

Technology in the elementary classroom has come a long way from my teacher training days of overhead projectors, TV/VCRs, and the LaserDisc.  Madison Metropolitan School District was just finishing the roll-out of 1:1 devices (mainly Chromebooks) to students as COVID-19 hit and school went virtual.  It was a scramble for students and teachers to find and learn many new ways of interacting online.  Prior to virtual learning, most students only used computers for Lexia (an online reading/phonics program), Google products for papers and presentations for older students, and an occasional online math game.

That first spring of virtual learning, teachers were instructed to use Seesaw for K-2 and Google Classroom for 3rd through 5th grades.  I had not used either with students.  I also learned and taught students how to use several online sites that were giving free subscriptions just for the spring.  About June 2020, I felt I understood the benefits and limitations of Google Classroom (the major drawback was the self-grading feature... any type has to match perfectly for it to count.)  Heading into a virtual fall, MMSD announced that all elementary grades were going to use Seesaw.  Seesaw was a platform I had not used before, and prior to COVID was meant as a tool to be used in the classroom to collect drawings and videos from students too young to type.  In the fall of 2020, Seesaw was thrust into a national platform for virtual learning, and the programmers worked tirelessly to try to meet schools' demands, but it was quite clunky and difficult to use for most of the school year.

I pride myself on quickly learning new technologies and online platforms and also being able to teach them to my co-workers and students.  2021 has really tested my abilities as web-based software that I am familiar with continues to improve and change AND every training, class or PD (professional development) seems to use a different platform for video calls and assignments.  Just this month, I have learned how to use the LETRS training platform, Brightspace for my master's program at Purdue University, the FASTBridge assessment platform (both the training site and the assessment site), and the Indiana University anti-plagiarism site.  I still need to spend time on the updated MMSD website, as locations and formats of information that I need to know have changed and moved.  In summary, for the present and the future, staying on top of digital technologies assists me as both a teacher and a student to use the tools to my advantage and the advantage of my students.

and yet...

I keep thinking, "when this next event is over, it'll all be easier and better."

Am I really that person?  The grass-is-always-greener-on-the-other-side person?

I try to live in the present, but so much of my time is spent holding out hope for the future.

Once this long-term substitute position ends, I can lose weight and heal my foot. Once I get the cat's fleas under control (my INDOOR cat!), I can work on getting the house clean. Once soccer season is over, I can rest.  Once my boss sees how intelligent and caring I am, he will stop criticizing me and I can focus on work instead of trying not to cry.  Once my endometriosis is fixed, my depression will magically go away too.

But instead, I am sitting here in pain (foot and abdomen) in my dirty house, tired and depressed.

As my spiritual director would ask, "Where is God in all of this?"

God is here in the mess with me.  God is in my anti-depressants and coffee.  God is in my marriage and family.  God is in my students and co-workers.

So, no matter how bad things get in my head, I will continue to try to focus on the positives... the "and yets."  Shelby has been acting up all week; and yet, she stopped to give me a hug on her way out of school.  Louis hasn't turned in a single paper for a month; and yet, I saw him independently working on the latest poetry assignment.  Civil rights violations are happening all over; and yet, same-sex marriage is now the law of the land, and our first black president is about to turn over the reigns to our first female president.

Martin Luther King Jr. — 'The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.'

Better Than Before (Hysterectomy Plus)

Seems like I keep getting better, but never fully there.

When I start to whine because I don't feel better than a few days ago, I remember to compare my pain to a few months ago.  At which point, I realize how much better my health and general feelings about life are.

After a few years of trying to diagnose and treat my endometriosis, I finally decided to have surgery to remove parts.  I knew for sure that I wanted my right ovary GONE!  The first few surgeons I went to didn't want to do the surgery because the ovary was attached by endometrial tissue to my right ureter (which carries urine from the kidney to the bladder) and is a major deal if nicked or compromised in any way.

Luckily, I know a midwife who knows a gynecologist who recommended a fertility specialist.   Dr. Pritts turned out to be exactly who I needed.  Great bedside manner AND amazing technical skills.  She was able to take out all my reproductive organs (except left ovary... we left that for hormonal reasons) laparoscopically during out-patient surgery.  Going home the same night, I already felt better.  The pain recovering from surgery was nowhere as horrible as the pain from endometriosis.

Today is the four-week anniversary of the surgery.  Today is the day when all my physical, post-surgery restrictions are lifted.  I still am a bit weary and a bit achy, which is annoying since I started healing so quickly after the surgery.  Plateauing is normal, but not welcome to someone as impatient as I am.  I should still take it easy for the next few weeks.  But I'm back to buying milk and doing laundry and going to the gym and beating my husband in basketball and walking downtown.  Soon I will be back to substitute teaching too.

Thank you to everyone who sent prayers and food and love and care!

How I killed Santa

How did I get to the point where my toddler is matter-of-factly telling his friend that Santa is dead?

Accidentally.

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I am a teacher and a planner.  When my first child was born within a week of Christmas, I decided that as a family, we would celebrate Christmas as a religious holiday, and only give gifts at birthdays.  The main reason was to keep things fair with our other children who would theoretically be born at other times of the year.  I didn’t want my first born to be stuck with joint birthday-Christmas gifts.

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St. Dunstan’s Episcopal Church celebrates St. Nicholas Sunday.  Someone dresses up in red bishop’s gear, tells St. Nicholas stories, and hands out bags of gold-covered chocolate coins.  When my son was little, I was the Christian Education Director at the church, and so I was in charge of St. Nicholas.  One year, my friend Andy played St. Nick.  Another year, my father did.  My son must have listened closely to what his grandfather said about St. Nicholas.  If Santa were alive over a thousand years ago, he must be dead by now, right?

And hence, Santa is dead.  Which my son very matter-of-factly told several of his friends, making some of them burst into tears.  And making me not very popular at pre-school.

I don’t remember how I got him to stop talking about dead Santa, but I do remember the surprise twist ending to this whole Santa story.

That Christmas eve, we were at a friend’s house for a party.  They also had small children, and they were tracking Santa’s travels via NORAD.  As my family drove home from the party, I asked my son if he understood what we were watching on the computer.  He didn’t, so I quickly told him the story of Santa flying around the world to deliver presents to children and how we were watching Santa’s movements on the map.

My son asked if all children get presents.  I responded that part of the Santa story is that only well-behaved children get presents, but that actually Santa should give presents to all children.  My son quickly got excited and stated, “So I get presents from Santa tonight?!”

Whoops!  How do we deal with that one?  My husband and I looked at each other.  We don’t exchange Christmas presents;  we give gifts on our birthdays instead; therefore, we hadn’t been buying Santa presents either.  

What do we say?!  “Of course you get presents.  You’re a kid aren’t you?”

So... we get home and put the boy to bed.  It is now almost midnight on Christmas Eve, and I have just promised presents to my child that I don’t have.  I run around the house, trying to find anything that is remotely age-appropriate AND hasn’t been seen by my son yet.

I start in the basement, where I have stashed all the gifts from well-intentioned relatives who have given age- INappropriate presents.  I find only one gift there: a toy meant for eight year olds that was given to my son when he was two.  After I scour the rest of the house, I wrap the sad pile of items, and go to sleep.

The next morning, my son pops out of bed and excitedly scampers down the stairs.  There are three wrapped presents under the tree.  He unwraps the first one.  It is the tractor from the basement.

My son is clearly still not old enough for it, but he shrieks with delight and says, “A tractor!  Just what I wanted!”

I’m relieved, but we’re not out of the woods yet.  That tractor was the most gift-like of the three presents.

My son unwraps the second box. “Wow, marbles!  Lookit, Mommy!  I got marbles!  (Squeal!)  I like these marbles.  I want to keep these forever!  Those are so exciting!  Look what I got, Daddy!”

Who knew a box of marbles could be so amazing?

And now for the third present.  I am expecting this one to clearly be disappointing.  But the excitement of Christmas overcomes even a gift that my child doesn’t recognize.  

“Let’s see.  Let’s open this.”

He opens the box and squeals again: “Wow!  Wow!  Wow!”

“Look, Daddy!  Just what I wanted!”

...without ever naming the object, because he has no idea what it is.

And so, Christmas and Santa are redeemed with a wooden puzzle set (meant to sit on a desk in a cubicle).  And I learned yet again that no matter how much I plan my parenting, being a mother is really all about improv.

One of those days... Endometriosis is kicking my butt

I am on day 22 of a low-grade fever.  Day 13 of menstruating.  Day 14 of my new medical treatment.

It's one of those days.

It has been "one of those days" for months now.  About a year ago, I was a mess.  I assumed that my recurrent clinical depression was probably to blame, but it didn't feel the same as past episodes.  A series of trips to doctors and tests led to the diagnosis of endometriosis (where the tissue that lines the uterus "escapes" and shows up in other places of the abdomen).

June 2014 I had exploratory surgery, and the surgeon found that I have severe endometriosis: it is not only all throughout my abdominal cavity, it also has connected some organs to others in a dangerous way.  The surgeon removed the ovarian cysts and cleaned up some of the endometriosis, but most of the treatment would come medically (through hormone treatment).

The "cure" for endometriosis is menopause.  At that point, the endometrial tissue stops cycling and spreading.  My friends who are a few decades older than I am had their endometriosis treated by radical hysterectomy (all reproductive parts removed).  It sent them into immediate menopause, with the health risks associated with menopause increased due to their young age.  These days, doctors try to convince the body that there is no need to have a menstrual cycle, while still having the ovaries produce necessary hormones for overall health.

Due to my fear of triggering depression, my medical team started me on the lowest rung of treatment: a Merena IUD.  It sits in the uterus and gives off low levels of hormones that stay localized to the abdomen.  For 30% of women, it totally stops their menstruation after six months.  For me, it didn't stop menstruation, it made it lighter and longer.  The location of the IUD and the irregular shape of my uterus gave me on-going sciatica.

Two weeks ago, my pain was so great (and my fever so debilitating) that I finally went back to my primary nurse-practitioner.  She pulled out the IUD and started me on the next step up of hormone therapy: low-level birth control pills.

The sciatica is gone (no more hip and leg pain), but all the other symptoms are back (fever, abdominal pain, cramps, intense bleeding, fatigue).  It is hard to get out of bed in the morning.  It is hard to think clearly and make good decisions.  It is hard to do anything or spend time with anyone.  I just want to watch TV and lie around with my therapy cat (who has recently been diagnosed with renal failure).

I haven't been writing blog postings because I don't have much to say that isn't whiny and complaining.  I am struggling now with a way to end this post with something positive.

So, I'll just thank all of my family and friends who have been supportive thus far (especially my husband), and leave it at that.

2015... The year without worry

This is what worry-free living looks like

This morning my husband announced that 2015 was going to be the year without worries. I have already forgotten the context within which the pronouncement was made, but I have been contemplating what a worry-less year might look like. 

Overall, 2014 was a pretty good year.  I definitely have been surprised by how much I enjoy having a middle-schooler.  Most excitement around my child was positive: sports, academics, friends.  As for my husband, no news is good news.  

I try to focus on the positive year that the rest of my family had instead of focusing on me.  My year was boring, painful, or infuriating.  Too much time spent in physical pain due to endometriosis (I seem to be the poster child for auto-immune diseases) or trying to stay one step ahead of recurring depression.

I am a pessimist.  But, just as I believe that “the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice” (Martin Luther King, Jr.), I also believe that the arc of my life bends towards better-ness.  Every year of my adult life has been significantly better than the year prior.

I am hopeful that 2015 follows that trend and is better physically, mentally, and spiritually for me. Intentionally avoiding worry will be a good start.  I just wish I knew how to!  When I asked my husband how 2015 was going to be a year without worry, he helpfully answered, "Because we won't worry."

Here's praying for a worry-free year for my family and yours!

Love,

Darby 

Fight or flight

Red-in-the-face

I was recently in what might be called "a teachable moment." Not the kind where I teach my kid, but the kind where there is obviously something I should learn from the situation, even as my frustration is reaching red-faced proportions.

The question I kept asking myself, while I tried to keep my fool mouth shut, was "is this situation trying to teach me to be less sensitive or is it trying to tell me to start running and not look back?"
In other words, "toughen up, buttercup" or "get out while you still can?"

I spent that entire night alternating between sleeplessness and nightmares.  Am I really that thin-skinned?  And is that a bad thing?

I put the situation to the gut test.  As I wrote in "Discerning God's Voice":

I listen to my gut.  Literally.  When something is amiss, I get cramps.  When I am following my "call", my digestive tract feels fine.  Checking in with my physical reaction helps for small daily decisions (Should I return that phone call?  Should I respond to that Facebook post which upset me?), but also for larger decisions.

When I talked to a friend about quitting this program, there were several instructive pieces of feedback.  First, my gut felt better about quitting the program than staying with it.  Second, my guilt about quitting yet another thing was trumped by my gut.  (I was going to link to my blog post about quitting, but it appears that post is still in draft form and I haven't published it yet.)  Third, my friend was there during the situation where I was about to come unhinged and she thought the experience was wonderful and motivating.

All that led to the answer: Get the hell out!

And in case I hadn't received the message, as I was talking to the head of the program about my need to quit, he asked me to reconsider.  He thought that maybe I should just dive deeper in.  I told him I would prayerfully consider it.  And then I spend the next 24 hours in excruciating pain due to stress cramps.

Yep, time to change course.