There was a professional development day last Friday. My role is a slender one, teaching sewing twice a week, and costuming a couplet of shows. My class takes place in the theater, across the road from the main buildings, and it is rare that I see anyone besides my six students. Still I was included to learn from the woman presenting on creativity.
I was moved to glance around the tables packed with people who have chosen to dedicate their most productive years to igniting young people about history, literature, or chemistry. The other day my girls kept me up way past my bedtime telling me about a Steinbeck short story. Another time my daughter nearly slept through supper after having thrummed her feet through an hour of zumba and two of jazz. Hearing my girls converse easily in French and Spanish is a marvelous feeling.
The presenter told us to sort ourselves by birth order. For a confusing few minutes we shuffled around the room. I landed at a table of mostly lasts, though they were seventh and eighth in their families, and I was a measly fourth. For the next exercise I noted the raucousness of the oldests, who all vied for control. We were instructed to draw as a group, one line at a time, in pursuit of a picture of an animal. Without words. Another exercise was to list the uses of a popsicle stick.
I was on home turf, since my college thesis included asking every child in the local elementary school to tell me all the ways to use a cardboard box. Some filled the page. Or two.
The presenter showed an illustration of a person with two hanging ropes that did not quite reach and asked how we would manage to tie them together, given the objects available.
"I would take off my shirt and tie it to one which would make it possible to reach the other." Then she added a condition. "If I was alone, that is." We laughed.
Another time we were tasked with drawing someone at our table. Afterwards the speaker asked our reactions.
"Honored," said one man.
"Really?" she inquired.
"Everyone at the table drew me."
For three meals we ate together. Laughed freely. Sang. Prayed. Explored ways to bring fresh life to our jobs. I found out that I am not unique in sometimes feeling isolated. Even those whose classrooms are a wall away from each other can let the distance divide them.
In a break I observed a more experienced teacher listen to a younger one. A woman she had mentored. Although it is probably second nature enough that she was not particularly aware that she was doing it, she mirrored back the woman's position. Named her struggles. Empathized. I dare say the younger teacher went away feeling less alone.
We ended the event with action items. Ways we will make time to keep the feeling of connection. Maybe we will find a way to tie our efforts together.
