Digital Portfolio

LETTER OF INTRODUCTION

I was so lost. After much trial and error with distance learning during summer school, I realized I was not equipped for the task at hand to start the 2020 school year. So, I spent that summer learning everything I possibly could to prepare. I became Google Certified, I watched every virtual platform video, I spoke to former students, and I brainstormed with my principal to identify all that distance learning would entail. Then, I planned. I shared those plans with fellow teachers, principals, and leaders. I wrote distance learning curricula in English for SUHSD, gathered Instructional Onboarding materials for the Sweetwater community, led virtual professional developments, and shared everything I learned with everyone I knew, so we could all feel prepared. But my entire fifteen years teaching couldn’t prepare me for what was next.

Blank screens. Muted microphones. Songs sporting obscene lyrics blasting over my “teacher voice.” Only our second day of school, and I had been zoom bombed. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have an unwelcome guest in our class. Please log off immediately and await an important message from me on Google Classroom.” Cue the tears.

We often talk about “teachable moments” in our practice, yet this was one such moment I never saw coming. I had a choice. I could scold my students for sharing our class meeting information, I could pretend it didn’t happen and take the necessary precautions to minimize the logistics of it happening again, or I could be real with my students and tell them the truth about how it made me feel and be vulnerable. I went with the last option.

This single act of opening up to my students has helped redefine my philosophy of teaching-- I am not just a teacher of English, I am a teacher of real life. So, I decided to get real in my first personal letter to my students: “You, my wonderful students, have no idea how much you mean to me, even though we have never met in person. You are my purpose in life, and without purpose, we are lost. Today, with this zoom bomber, I felt lost. Something you can count on me for being is a safe space. I will never judge you for your opinions, but I will listen to you intently because I firmly believe that you are here to teach me as much as I am here to teach you. And when people violate our safe space, it makes me feel targeted and violated. How did it make you feel and what advice can you give me on how we should handle situations like this when they happen?” Asking those two questions opened up a new chapter of my teaching profession. That day we became partners in learning. They wrote letters back to me, shared in my emotions, explained their own, and we came up with a plan together.

In the weeks that followed, we all gained new experiences with distance learning that none of us knew how to emotionally handle. So we brainstormed ideas together. We made “Emotional Toolkits” by sharing possessions that brought us joy, we had “Empty the Cup” days where we turned off our cameras and microphones and used only the chat box to vent, and we wrote letters for more personal one-on-one connections. These Socio-Emotional Learning activities proved so valuable that they became a part of our typical daily routines.

This year has shown me that the more supported a student feels emotionally, the more they aspire to academic success. This belief defines me and was affirmed in a letter one student wrote: “You always check in on us and show us that you care. It has helped me mentally knowing if I ever needed anything I could come to you. Since I've been more relaxed with that, I've been doing better academically.”

Since adapting this mindset, the bombings have ceased, student grades and motivation have increased, and despite not knowing what they look like, I feel closer with this year’s students than any year prior. They’ve given me renewed purpose and we are all thriving.