Confronting the Crisis, Engaging in Conversation

It was going to be a great weekend with my best friend. NYC. Half-way between February and April break. Big city lights to distract us from kindergarten sight words and middle school drama.

Well, our Central Park crawl was cut short when I received a phone call that Dr. Cook had passed away.

It was so sudden that I couldn't even cry. My friend just hugged me and held my hand.

When I arrived back in Providence, I met up with more friends so that none of us would have to be alone.

There were plenty of text messages exchanged between the time we all found out and the time we got together, but nothing was as comforting as just sitting across from each other, reminiscing and sharing stories.

Sitting in my classroom alone that Monday morning is when the tears sprung free. I hadn't yet been alone - really alone, no traffic or loud music to distract me - and in the place where she inspired me to be. When the other teachers found me sniffly and puffy-eyed, they told me to go home. And I easily could have. But writing with my students was the only thing that would help to heal.

About two months later, my memere suddenly passed away. I had been feeling defeated by the pressures of first-year teaching and was overwhelmed by news about cancer in my family. I hadn't ever felt so low before.

Again, it was the kindness of my people that got me through. My best friends, my close family, my mentors, and some fellow teachers offered hugs and shared their ears. Things that they could only do in real life. In front of my eyes. Reaching out their gentle hands.

Around this time, someone reminded me that the sadness I was feeling - while it stunk, was a totally normal, healthy human experience. Someone shared Tara Brach's Buddhist meditations. Someone shared this video, too:

Here, Louis C.K. explains his ideas about the danger of cell phones in everyone's hands, especially kids. He says that they are toxic. They prevent people from looking at one another and building empathy. He argues that we would rather text and drive, taking the risk of killing someone and ruining our own life because we don't want to be alone and feel that first bit of sadness that comes with being alone.

His video has more than 8.5 million views for a reason.

Like Sherry Turkle says, "we have confused conversation with connection...When people are alone, even for a few moments, they fidget and reach for a device...In our rush to connect, we flee from solitude, our ability to be separate and gather ourselves....We need to remember - in between texts and e-mails and Facebook posts - to listen to one another, even to the boring bits, because it is often in unedited moments, moments in which we hesitate and stutter and go silent, that we reveal ourselves to one another."

Those text messages were not enough. Any social media posting was not enough. I know I am guilty of fidgeting for my phone when I get that empty feeling in my gut while I am stuck sitting in traffic. I know I go for a quick check of my email when I am feeling uncomfortable in a situation. In writing letters of gratitude with my students that Monday after Dr. Cook's passing I wanted to engage my students in another way of connecting and having conversation about difficult things (because as we know from Michael Wesch's "Anti-Teaching" article that engaging the students in the learning is more important than the teaching itself). My students' reflections helped me know that they needed this opportunity, too.  

I agree that, often, "education has become a relatively meaningless game of grades rather than an important and meaningful exploration of the world in which we live and co-create" (Wesch 5). And the pervasive social media technologies can further this meaninglessness through surface communication (as Turkle argues) or, if we are purposeful, we can make sense of our interconnection and create a better future for ourselves (as Michael Wesch has been with his digital ethnographies). But, again, this can only happen with a critical eye and a stance toward teaching that "produces the types of questions that create lifelong learners rather than savvy test-takers" (Wesch 5).

There is lots at stake. As some see it, we teachers have an audience 5 days a week, 180 days a year. We need to do the best we can to confront the crisis of significance, not fly from the conversation.