We got permission recently to return to the classroom and grab our personal possessions. It was a pretty clear objective: get in, grab what you need, then get out.

It didn’t exactly work out that way.

Walking in, everything was a rush of surrealism as I encountered an empty room waiting for students. “Upcoming Assignments” on the board, work to hand back, student bins with their portfolios and my kettle waiting to brew another cup of coffee.

The scene required a few moments to take in and process. It represented a promise of students returning, memories to share and closure to the year.

More importantly, it represented a community that will no longer gather.

Then I asked a hard question: Would they want to?

Have we done enough to make school a community that students want, need and look forward to?

Have we allowed students autonomy to build that community as well?

These questions set a course for how I’ll be teaching next year.

I’ve had a lot of trouble writing my thoughts recently; this being the third time I’ve attempted to do so. Over the past year, I’ve waited 48 hours before reacting to a viral news story.

In the age of publish now, fact-check later, it’s hard to tell the competence level of the journalist… or the ambition of the media outlet they work for. What stays consistent is the knee-jerk, extreme reactions of people.

However, this past week has been a cascade of events and I don’t even know where to start:

Pandemic, death, racism, riots, elderly homes and hey, the US sent astronauts into space again.

As a teacher, I have a position of influence and opportunity to engage young people. Students have acknowledged my class is tough because I force them to think (coincidentally, I’m also an easy marker), but they also know when it comes to racism, sexism or homophobia—there is no grey area in my class.

There are no warnings either. Get up, get out.

I’m fearless and direct about the subject because I have to. We’re beyond tiptoeing, using inferences from outdated texts and gently acknowledging its reality. Today’s world puts it in our face and to not have their teacher speak about it insinuates I’m either ignorant or ignoring it.

As much as possible, I do my best to make sure all my students see themselves in the curriculum… regardless of what I’m teaching.

My goal for teaching has always been to get students to engage with the world, be an active part of it and think for themselves.

But I always ask—is it enough?

What value are students getting?

It’s tough to infer their immediate responses and sometimes it’s an uphill battle against a home environment, but I have to keep trying.

My biggest fear isn’t they will one day be in one of those gut-wrenching, viral videos (although I will be saddened if they are), but they will be a bystander who did nothing.

Then there’s this pandemic, which has brought people to their tipping point.

Emotions are high and the thin veil holding society together is ripping. We are living through a paradigm shift and the uncertainty of tomorrow is overwhelming.

But, within that uncertainty is opportunity.

An opportunity to build the future we want, and we must do it because we have to.

Otherwise, someone will build the future for us and we’ll be no better than where we are now.

I’ve had a horrible run the past few nights of spending time on YouTube.

While many people are lauding their binge watching efforts, sharing their impressive streaks and newest finds, I’m allowing an algorithm to take me for a ride. I’m sure I’ll pay for these sessions down the road through invisible marketing tactics based on my data, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.

However, it’s turned up some remarkable finds. I was quite taken aback by this one here, a well crafted and edited video on the toxic culture of self-help.

To say I dipped my toes in those waters is akin to a shark saying they’ve had a bite of fish to eat once.

Jani (the author of the video) nails it on the head when he speaks about the addiction to the indsutry itself and the finishing of every bit of material feels like an action is taken. But it’s not.

It’s telling yourself a lie so much that you start believing it.

But its insidious nature is getting you so hooked on the ideas that the very thought of taking action on them is stifling because you can’t live up to the ideal in your head. That right there doesn’t just go for self-help, but for so many of our own dreams in life.

I have a horrible psychological issue (well… many) of getting addicted to the idea, taking action on it, then sabotoging it. I’ve literally stifled my own writing career by wasting opportunities and, to be honest, being a complete idiot (imposter syndrome is also a big factor as well).

All because of an idea I’m addicted to and a hungering thought that “just one more thing” is all I need before I can get serious about it.

Well—it’s all garbage.

It’s no good getting obsessed over an idea if you’re never going to take action.

Just go for it and adjust as you go.

Although, right now, I feel like I’ve come full circle from the most popular article I’ve written online. Maybe now I have the maturity to follow through.

For all the struggles, pains and annoyances of lockdown measures, remember the good.

Remember…
the joy of walks,
the attempts at cooking,
the conversations to stay in touch,
the naps that refreshed you,
the projects that finally got done,
the hobbies you unearthed,
the creative play with family,
the anticipation of seeing others,
the reflections on life,
and the time the world stood still.

Those are the things we need to carry forward as the new normal.

The past few days my writing has been deeply personal, which is fine, but not the sort of reflections appropriate to post online.

Since I’ve always been a proponent of airing your dirty laundry privately, I’ve done just that. Wrote it, read it, then discarded it.

I’ve spoken about that process in an earlier post , there’s no need to detail it here.

Although those entries are gone, there were plenty of seeds within them that will germinate in their due course. It’s those I will be writing about at some point as they coalesce into something solid.

While personal accounts are wonderful as a connection point, especially to those who are going through something similar, it can be incredibly tempting to give up any bit of privacy a person has left.

A person who shares a personal anecdote periodically can capture the emotional capacity of their audience–getting them to recognize the person in front of them is human as well.

Getting too personal… with everything… it’s just not a step I’m willing to make in an online forum.

I share a lot.
I struggle a lot.
I succeed a lot.

But many parts of my personal life still remain my own and I always need to ensure that I draw the line between personal and reflective pieces.

For now, it’s Canada, the weather just turned into real Spring (our fake one had two bouts of snow) and I’m off to enjoy it.

The ancient Greek philosopher, Seneca, had this to say about time:

Men are thrifty in guarding their private property, but as soon as it comes to wasting time, they are most extravagant with the one commodity for which it’s respectable to be greedy

There is something to be said of the time we have right now. While the frustrations of social distancing can dominate the psyche, there’s an opportunity to look for something bigger.

The traditional thieves of time used to come in engagements with others you didn’t care for or extra work you were guilted into finishing. These often came in large denominations of days, afternoons or evenings.

The thieves of the hours came through the mindless entertainment of television—watching something because it’s on and not because you’re interested.

Today, there are much craftier thieves of time who steal it in slivers, but cause it to evaporate by a thousand cuts. These are the thieves of digital distraction whose most common name is “Just checking,” but what makes them really vicious is they occupy your mental state all day.

All those thieves are hard to combat when life is moving so fast.

However, now, there’s an opportunity to stop them.

I am not getting any younger. Neither is my family.

As frustrating as days can be, I’m getting an incredibly large chunk of uninterrupted time to enjoy them right now.

I don’t know what the future will hold.

I do my best to prepare for it and to take advantage of the opportunities available, but I cannot assume an outcome.

This time has taught me to be an even greater guardian of the time I have.

I hope it does the same for others.

It’s been a mental understanding of mine that people come into your life for a period of time.

It might be for a season or for good, but you should never assume the latter. If it’s only for a season, there is a likelihood of running into each other again.

In that event, whatever stasis you left each other on continues as though the resume button has been pressed.

That’s why I always felt it fitting to never say goodbye, but rather “see you later.”

There’s a twinge of guilt in doing so, however, because this mentality could have others mistaking my lack of connection as an arrogant cold shoulder. People are never forgotten, even if it seems that way.

Then, it occurs to me, perhaps I should let those people know I haven’t forgotten them. That I hold them dear to my heart, hope they’re doing well and look forward to a day when circumstances allow us to connect again.

It’s connecting with many people across time and seeing where they are in the present moment. The reconnection has been invigorating and heart warming.

Just the things we need right now.

Growing up, I had an obsession with speed.

It was about getting things done in the fastest time possible, with the smallest amount of downtime. There was a false equation stuck in the recesses of my mind that faster equaled mastery.

To say I had (and somewhat still) a heavy foot while driving is an understatement and I bequeath my good fortune of only getting one speeding ticket—ever—to someone really looking out for me. The immature brain lodged in my skull dictated that driving fast meant getting places faster and showed great skill.

Then were the attempts at learning speed reading (more books, faster!), increasing my typing speed (100wpm+ or bust!), dictation, power-gaming, HIIT workouts… and the list goes on.

Perhaps it’s the physical rhythm of my body slowing down, or some wisdom has seeped into the empty space between my ears, but I’ve reversed course.

I’m teaching myself how to slow down.

I can comfortably “speed-read” at 700wpm, but ignore that glorified skimming skill to enjoy the text I’m in. The net result has allowed me to read more complicated works with ease, understanding them more and completing them in greater volume.

I can comfortably type between 90-100wpm, but my mornings are spent with my pen and notebook, enjoying a coffee, with my daughter beside me on the couch as we both wake up. When I sit down at the keyboard, I slow my fingers down to a slower pace to allow my thoughts to get ahead of my typing. The net result has been a greater volume of writing, finishing more and finishing “faster.”

All these attempts to speed-up were not in vain, but merely misguided.

It’s the deliberate actions, taken with care, that gets more done at a faster pace.

However, I’m still working on the driving part.

Nine weeks into quarantine and I find myself spending the evenings binge watching lectures.

These are lectures/courses that have been in my buffer for a long while and now I’m powering through them. The topics are all over the map: workshop model in the classroom, mastering Google Sheets, the craft of writing, religion and the modern world… and a few others.

As I do my best to absorb as much as possible (let’s not kid ourselves, I won’t get the time to re-watch them all anytime soon), it’s clear this learning is not comprehensive.

As detailed as they are and with the infinite number of them available, there are two things I keep in mind:

1. The learning is useless unless action is taken.
2. There’s always something more to learn.

Point one–I could learn a million parts about a subject, but unless that knowledge is practiced, it’s not being used.

There’ s a major difference between hearing it and applying it. The gap between the two is only bridged with practice.

Point two–it’s impossible to learn everything and the more you learn about a topic, the more you realize how little you know. The moment a person thinks they know it all, they become stagnant and resistant to growth.

Even with this framework, one thing is clear:

I could live a hundred lives and there will always be something more to learn. No one is ever a master.