I dropped my croissant on the floor and I cried.

I dropped my croissant on the floor and I cried.

3/29/20

I woke up this morning before my family.

The quiet solitude of the house was refreshing...

I made my breakfast:

Two scrambled eggs with some shredded cheese on a toasted croissant.

It was the last croissant in a package of four; we don’t buy croissants too often.

They feel like an exotic luxury food.

I put my scrambled eggs on the toasted decadent croissant 

and added a small clementine on the side.

I had my steaming hot cup of green tea in my favorite mug.  

As I walked to the table with croissant breakfast sandwich in one hand

And cup of tea in my other hand,  I lost my balance--

I dropped my croissant on the floor and I cried.

I cried with my whole heart looking down at the egg, croissant, clementine, and

spilled tea on the floor. 

I cried for our Mother Earth who is so sick and has been sick for a very long time.  

I cried for the thousands of people who are sick.

I cried for the people who died.

I cried for the people who are going to get sick.

I took a breath in between hot tears streaming down my cheeks

and gasps for breath--

And then I heard the birds chirping outside as the rain gently fell on the early spring grass.

I then cried harder--messier.

I cried for the loved ones of people who are sick and can’t touch their loved ones because

they are in nursing homes and hospitals and live far away.

I cried for the medical professionals who are risking their lives each day.

I cried for the grocery store employees who are now first responders.

Then I paused again to breathe…

And heard my daughter singing and dancing to a tic tok video.

And my son playing an online video game with his friends’ voices coming out of the speakers.

I continued crying--

I cried for my students who are living in homes where their families don’t like each other.

I cried for my students who are working in grocery stores.

I cried for all the people who have lost their jobs and will lose their jobs.

I cried for my fellow teachers who want to teach our students back in the classroom.

I cried for all the parents who are doing their best.

And then my kind, gracious husband who had woken up and come into the kitchen to find me crying,

put his arm around me,

and reminded me:

We can remake breakfast--

Together.

Thank you to my students--past and present

It has been months since I wrote and posted a blog; I have been grieving the loss of my dad and it has been too painful to write.  And this morning, I felt like I wanted to write.  What I am compelled to write is the following:

My father passed away on September 18, 2019 after a 25 year battle with Parkinson's Disease.  The love and support my family and I have received from family and friends have been overwhelmingly gracious.   I do want to take a moment again to thank all of our loved ones--and for this blog post--especially thank my students past and present.

Thank you to my students who emailed me right away when they heard the news that my dad had passed.  Thank you for your kind, empathetic words and phrases such as:

"Everything will be alright."
"I'm thinking of you and your family."
"Let me know if I can do anything to help in class while you are out."
"I am sure your dad is proud of you for having such an amazing impact on all of your students' lives, including mine."

Thank you to my students who asked if they could hug me when I returned to school. Thank you to my students who said "I'm sorry for the loss of your dad." And thank you to my students who said nothing because you gently reminded me as the poet Mary Oliver said in her poem Wild Geese:

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

I remember the evening of Dad's wake, I was doing pretty good; it had been a few hours of thanking family and friends in the receiving line.  I am "good" at this sort of thing, because as most of you reading this post  know about me, I love connecting with people--and perhaps weirdly, in times of grief.  So it felt comforting to see family and friends paying tribute to my father's memory.

But when I saw a bunch of current students from my Advanced Journalism class walk in, I could feel a lump in my throat, the hot tears in my eyes, and a warm feeling in my heart.  I walked over to them and said something like "It is unbelievable that you all came." I remember one of my students replying, "Of course we would come, Mrs. Stoker."  So thank you, Period 4 Advanced Journalism students.

Thank you to my former students who were able to come to the wake--you know who you are and I am filled with a deep gratitude.  I am grateful to former students who reached out on social media and sent beautiful cards.

For years, my dad would visit yearly my junior American Literature/Studies classes to share with my students what it was like to grow up in the 1950's as we read novels like The Catcher in the Rye.  And as his Parkinson's Disease progressed, he would also share what it was like to live with a progressive disease.  It was a beautiful experience--essentially co-teaching with my father.  Thank you to my former students who reached out to say they remember that meaningful experience with my father.

So thank you to my students for being the wonderful human beings you are--I have been able to move through my grief during the school days this year while being fully present in my teaching, because we are moving together through this bruitful thing called life.

Sharing the wise words of Oprah Winfrey, Michelle Obama, and Lina Canon

Happy New Year!  It has been quite a while since I've blogged, so here goes to kicking off the New Year with some motivational messages from some inspirational women!

A few weeks ago, I was able to cross off a bucket list item:  to be in the presence of Oprah--yes, the Oprah Winfrey.  She was speaking at a fundraiser for the University of Massachusetts at Lowell.  I am beyond grateful to my friend and colleague Susan for letting me know about the event--and then giving me the hope that we could actually purchase tickets among the other thousands of Oprah fans calling UMASS Lowell at the same time!

One of Oprah's messages was the importance of every day acts of kindness.  She shared that after she built her school for girls in Africa she spoke with poet Maya Angelou.  She told Maya Angelou that she had just built what would be her legacy--even more than her talk show.  Maya Angelou shook her head and said, Nope.  Oprah said she was once again humbled by the phenomenal woman herself--Maya Angelou.  Maya Angelou said, your legacy is in your every day acts of kindness with individuals from all walks of life.  Yes, building a school to provide equal opportunity education for girls from Africa is noble. However, one's legacy is doing the next right thing--regardless of whether someone sees you do it. And anyone can do the next right thing regardless of how much money or power you have.

I am equally as appreciative to my friends Paula and Molly who said, let's try for tickets to see Michelle Obama on her book tour Becoming at the TD Bank North in Boston.  Michelle Obama gave the heartfelt message that there are a lot of good people in our country and in our world; we must remain hopeful despite times and relationships of division.  She shared the importance of story-telling as a way of connection across all divides.  We all have stories of what/how/why we are becoming.  

And lastly, I am in awe of my former student Lina Canon who recently spoke to two of my journalism classes.  One might ask, you are grouping your former student in with Oprah and Michelle Obama--two iconic women in our current day culture?  And to that thought, I say, ABSOLUTELY!  Lina is the next Oprah and Michelle Obama in the making...and I promise you, you will hear about Lina some day.

It has been almost ten years since I taught Lina during her high school years--even then, I knew she would achieve to whatever she set her mind and heart.  Her story is one of struggle and perseverance (see a future link to her story).  And now in her mid-twenties, Lina is a strong woman with strong messages:  be compassionate, do not think in black or white--there is a lot of gray area, don't be an obstacle to yourself, network, and never compare your journey to someone else's. If only I was that wise at Lina's age!

And how do I know she had an impact on my students--by the number of students who waited after class to speak with her, by the students requesting her email address so they could connect with her because they connected with her story. And for the fact that my students wanted to write an article and tell Lina's story.

Lina now works in philanthropy.  She co-hosts and co-producers a podcast called The Activist Hustle
(https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/brandon-rush/the-activist-hustle). And she is currently in El Salvador doing relief work.

So over the past month, I have been filled with messages of hope, optimism, and the importance of action.  As I look to the New Year, I continue to be grateful to the amazing people who I like to consider part of my village--those I have never met like Oprah Winfrey and Michelle Obama and those who I know like Lina.  And I'm reminded of all of my family, friends, colleagues, former and current students who continue to do the next right thing, who share their stories and listen to mine, and who are compassionate people.

Be well in the New Year!

A teacher's life lesson in resiliency

Last month I invited a dear friend and former colleague John Dube to teach a lesson on resiliency to my senior students in my Psychology in Literature.  Want to know why?  Like John always says "I'll get back to that point in a minute."

I first met John over 20 years ago when we were told we were going to co teach together an American Studies course.  John is a social studies teacher and I am an English teacher.  I can only imagine what John--then already an experienced teacher with many more years teaching than I--thought of me as the rookie English teacher.

I was very impressed with John's passion for teaching his students, his knowledge of content, and his ability to manage his classroom.  In our few years that we co taught together, I learned a lot from him.  I learned more about American History than I had in my high school and college courses.  I learned to laugh at myself.  And I learned the importance of treating our students as young adults.

We definitely collaborated and cooperated together as we created and planned lessons, shared classroom time, and worked with our students.  Ideally in a co teaching situation, two teachers share one group of students (approx. 20-25 students).  But we were assigned almost 40 students to teach at the same time.  One thing that kept us sane with challenging classroom conditions was having a sense of humor and a creative approach. One of my favorite lessons we did was create a mock speakeasy as a culminating project for the 1920s and The Great Gatsby.

I also wondered how John was able to balance being a working parent.  He and his wife Eileen had twin boys Evan and Connor who were toddlers at the time.  They were the cutest boys; John would sometime bring them in after school and they would love to run around his classroom. I on the other hand would come home exhausted after school from teaching and coaching.  I couldn't imagine coming home to the second part of my day having to put in the love, patience, energy and time into parenting two children  (years later, I would indeed be able to with my own children, but John made it look easy at the time).

Flash forward:  Many years past and John and I reconnected on social media over Star Trek.  I know--those of you who know me would never associate me with Star Trek (maybe Star Wars, but not Star Trek).  However, my husband is a Star Trek fan and so is John.  John was making Star Trek models and sharing his work online, so I asked him to make my husband one for a Christmas present.

Okay, back to the lesson on resiliency.  I will first say that John traveled during his April break to my current school in Massachusetts to conduct his lesson.  For that alone, I am grateful to John.

He currently is teaching a class nicknamed "The Happiness Course" which is based in positive psychology.  My Psych in Lit. curriculum incorporates positive psychology throughout the course.  So a lesson resiliency would fit perfectly.

And like the quality veteran teacher that he is, John had my students engaged within seconds of starting the class.  He included a power point presentation that started off with a picture of his son Evan that had everyone smiling.  He took them through a series of activities and discussions about what resiliency is and what it looks like.  By the end of the class, John shared why he designed and now teaches this course to his students.

He showed a slide that had a link to a video of Evan's memorial service.

Tragically Evan died six years ago at the age of 19.  He was studying abroad in Scotland through his Bates College program.  He was doing a polar plunge with his friends; when he came out of the water he collapsed, couldn't be revived, and passed away.

As one can empathize, the insufferable pain of losing your 19 year old son is unbearable.  It is not the natural course of life, we parents are supposed to die before our children.  And as one can imagine, there was not one sound in my classroom as John shared that is why he teaches this Happiness course:  in memory of Evan.

John discussed openly, honestly, and emotionally his grief for the loss of Evan.  He shared that he knows every day he has to make a choice to get up because some days it is so hard to get out of bed mourning the loss of his son.  John encouraged the students to consider the importance of living in the present moment--to enjoy their lives to the fullest.  He made lots of suggestions of how to stay in an emotional place of gratitude in order to make it through the brutality of life--like losing your son.

As I said, my students were so affected by John's life lesson.  Below are some of the students' responses to John's lesson:

"I learned that resiliency is a topic that everyone should be taught about. His talking was very inspirational... One thing that stuck with me was he said you decided whether or not you get up in the morning."

"I learned that a definition of resiliency is the ability for somebody to bounce back or recover from a hard time. I think this was a really good lesson for me to have and I will definitely use what I learned in my daily life and in the future."

"One thing that I took away from the class lesson today was he told us to focus on the present instead of the future. I personally tell myself 'I can't wait for high school to be over' etc. etc, and I think that life will be perfect right after we graduate, which isn't the case! A lot of people put time limits on happiness and that is something I need to work on. As a second semester senior I need to live in the moment, and be prepared for the good times and the bad times that lay ahead! I really enjoyed today's lesson, and I think it was very inspirational. Resilience is a trait that needs to be focused more on, especially learning about it in high school, and I am very lucky to have this lesson before heading off to college. Thanks again for letting him teach today!"

I smiled at the previous line about "letting" John teach that day--it was an honor and a loving reminder for me just how precious and how short life is.  Having the opportunity to have John teach with me again for that class reminds me of the amazing relationships educators form with other educators.  We teach from our life experiences and from our hearts.

John now encourages his students and loved ones to commit random acts of kindness and compassion--these acts are how he honors Evan's life as Evan was a wonderful human being filled with love and life.

This past weekend was the sixth anniversary of Evan's death, John has asked people mark the anniversary with a random act of kindness in the spirit of Evan--and I will add in love and respect for John and his family.  I wholeheartedly know Evan's spirit lives on through John and all of the students he teaches.

When the student becomes the doctor: How my (former) student became my father's eye doctor

Flashback with me 15+ years:  One of my high school sophomores named Jeff asks me if our whole English class can walk down to the auditorium so he can sing and play an original song on the piano  for his creative writing assignment.  And we do.  And he is fantastic performing for his fellow 20 classmates and me.  What he wrote and sang, my memory fails me--but I do remember loving his creativity, enthusiasm, self-confidence and his willingness to take a risk. 

Reflecting back to 15 years ago, Jeff was an intelligent, personable, fun, goofy, and insightful student.  He also had high emotional and social intelligence.  I had the honor of teaching him for two out of four of his high school years.  He was one of those teenagers who I knew would be successful with his life because he had a free spirit determination about himself. 

At the time, I had just moved back to Massachusetts from New Hampshire.  I was newly hired at Westborough High School after teaching for five year in New Hampshire.  Jeff and his classmates were caring, supportive, and energetic with me as a new teacher to WHS.  They were open to my nontraditional ways of teaching traditional material.  There are particular classes a teacher remembers throughout her career and Jeff and his class were one of those classes.

Flash forward to two years ago: I'm visiting my dad at the nursing home where he  now lives.  I'm talking to a woman named Suzanne, her husband Michael, and Suzanne's father Morty who is a resident at the nursing home.  My dad and Morty share a table for meals in the dining room.  Long story short, Suzanne and I put two and two together and realize that her son Jeff was my student years ago.  She says, Oh I didn't recognize your last name--Stoker.  I knew you as Eldredge.  She then added, did you know Jeffrey and his friends went to your wedding ceremony (back in 2003)?  I did recall and remember thinking how thoughtful and special Jeff and his classmates were to see me get married.

Present day:  So what is Jeff up to now?  He is an optometrist at his parents' practice in Westborough.  And I am so grateful to Jeff and his parents, because recently when my father started having problems with one of his eyes we decided to go see Jeff.  While I was sitting in the office waiting with my dad for his appointment, I could hear the receptionist talking with Dr. Cohn.  I couldn't help but smile--the boy who played the piano in front of his classmates, the boy who would ask an insightful question as well as a goofy one--was now an eye doctor--and was about to examine my dad's eyes and take care of my father.

Because my father has Parkinson's disease, I needed to accompany him into the actual appointment and in this case, I had to help hold my father's head (due to the dyskinesia he experiences from his disease).  Who knew an eye exam could be an awesome experience, but it was for my dad and me.  To have Jeff, a former student, examine my dad and offer his professional expertise and opinion when 15+ years earlier I was teaching Jeff, was, yet, another wonderful reason why I am so passionate about teaching-- the wonderful teacher/student connections that form.

During the appointment, Jeff was very respectful, gentle, and funny with my dad. He preserved my dad's dignity as I know it must have been very hard for Jeff to look steadily into my dad's eye as my dad's head moved.  When all was said and done, Jeff was able to rule out anything too serious.  However, he did recommend that we see a specialist to clean my dad's cataract.  He said this specialist would have the best chance of a successful procedure with Dad.  Dad had the procedure last week and thankfully is doing great.

As I probably have said before, we teachers rarely have the opportunity to witness how our students turned out as adults.  And fortunately, not only was I able to see how Jeff turned out; I was given the gift of him taking care of my father.

A Text of Courage

A few days ago, one of my favorite former students sent me the above text.  (Yes, teachers do have favorite students.  And if you ask me if you are/were a favorite of mine, I, of course will say, yes! ;)

I love these inspirational touchstones because they embody the phrase "big things come in little packages" and words matter.    A wonderful family friend gave me my first one years ago.  It said "Breathe."  I would keep it in my pocket and whenever I was feeling anxious, I would hold the stone and remember to breathe as a way to calm myself down and keep myself in the moment.

Years ago, I decided to collect the stones and pass them out to students when a student was in need of a kind and/or inspirational word.  And although I know how much my breathe touchstone means to me, I wasn't sure what impact the small rocks would have on others' lives.

One of the first stones I gave away was to Lucas.  I never had Lucas as a student, but he was a student in the class two doors down from my classroom.  Lucas would always say hello to me as he walked by; he was the type of person who had an infectious personality--students and teachers so enjoyed being around him.  He was passionate, enthusiastic, smart, intense and fun.

One day Lucas came to see me.  He was upset over a personal issue.  We talked for a bit and I grabbed my bucket of stones and asked him to pick one randomly.  I knew it wouldn't be the answer to his problems, but I told him it might help in a small way.  The first stone he chose was patience. Well in typical Lucas fashion, he showed his gratitude by giving me a big hug and went on his way. 

The following week, Lucas came by and told his ELL teacher Jackie and me that he got a tattoo of the word on the stone.  He proceeded to pull up his shirt in the middle of the hallway and there across his chest was the word patience.  Both Jackie and I yelled at the same time, Pull your shirt down!  Looking back, the scene of these two older women yelling at this student to pull down his shirt must have been quite comical.  Lucas then whipped out his phone and showed us a picture of the tattoo on his phone.  (that was more appropriate, I say with a laugh!).  When Lucas was passionate about something, he was all in.  And to be honest he wasn't the most patient person, but he wanted to be--so much so that he literally had it embedded in him.

Later on in the school year, he came back for another stone and chose wisdom. (He did not tattoo this word.)  When he graduated from high school, we were all sorry to see him go.  We had learned as much from him as he had learned from us.  The following school year, in between classes a student whom I did not know came into my classroom. He introduced himself and said Lucas had encouraged him to come see me.  The student said Lucas told him I was someone to talk to and to ask for a stone.  All I could do was smile internally--that was so Lucas--to look out for his friends in an act of compassion. 

Tragically, almost a year ago, Lucas passed away.  Needless to say, we are all still grieving.  To lose such a young person who was filled with such love is heartbreaking and devastating.  This year, I have his younger sister Lydia as a student.  Recently, she shared that her family was going through Lucas's things and found the touchstones he had chosen.  She and I had an emotional moment together as the pain of not having Lucas was/is palpable.  Seeing the stones reinforces that words do matter--as they connect us in so many ways.  I now keep stones and quote cards available to pass out to students--and I lovingly think of Lucas.

***

So when my former student texted me the picture of the stone last week, I began to further think about the word courage.  Every day, we teachers bear witness to great acts of courage by our students and by our colleagues. Some of these acts may appear small to others, but we know they can be monumental for our students and us.

Some examples:

*a student raising her/his hand
*a student getting to school
*a student sharing that she is struggling because her mother was diagnosed with cancer
*a student who has cancer
*a student who tries out for a varsity sport
*a student who stands up to a peer who is bullying
*a student asking out their love interest on a date
*a student overcoming an injury
*a student sharing her parent is an alcoholic and she is scared

*a teacher who is willing to share something personal to model vulnerability for his/her students
*a teacher who is willing to make a mistake
*a teacher who is able to laugh at himself/herself
*a teacher who is sick and still keeps on going

This list of courageous acts goes on and on...and I encourage you to add your courageous acts in the comment section.

FDR said, "Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the assessment that something else is more important than fear."  I thank Lucas, former students, current students, and colleagues--for constantly showing me what courage looks like.

Life is brutiful: Vulnerability, Love, and Connection Part I

In her TED Talk, "Lessons I learned in the mental hospital", author Glennon Doyle says that "life is brutiful"--both brutal and beautiful on any given day.  This statement couldn't be more true when I reflect on my life as a teacher working with my students.  Here is one example with more to come in future blogs.

This weekend two of my former students celebrated their five year wedding anniversary and their 16 year anniversary since they met as high school students in our poetry club.  Actually they were the founders of the poetry club.  Both of them were budding poets and held a deep appreciation of the art.  They were looking for an opportunity to belong in our school community--a place where they could celebrate their passion for poetry and meet other students who shared their sentiment.

Emily and Jeremy are wonderful human beings who as teenagers had "old souls" that I respected.  I remember the first week of Emily's freshman year; she came after school to ask me about helping her to start a poetry club; she also shared some of her poetry. Emily was so insightful and mature that I thought she was one of my upperclassmen!  Her willingness to be vulnerable by sharing some of her personal art took such courage.

So we started WHS's chapter of the "Dead Poet's Society", often meeting weekly to write, discuss, and process what was going on in their student poet lives.  Jeremy was a year ahead of Emily and was an artist as well.  Our club soon grew with other students interested in a safe space to connect.  Over the months of meetings, I could see Emily and Jeremy had a mutual respect and admiration for one another.  It did not surprise me when later they started dating.

Flash forward a couple of years, and I shared a most vulnerable and emotional moment with Emily and her mother Priscilla. My mother suddenly passed away in September 2003.  I was also newly pregnant.  As one can imagine, I was heartbroken over the loss of my mother, nauseous from morning sickness, and overwhelmed that it was the start of the school year.  I was beyond touched at my mother's wake when I saw Emily and Priscilla (a now retired Westbrough teacher and a mentor of mine) walking through the line to offer their support...it was a brutiful moment of vulnerability and connection...based on a loving trust, loyalty, and gratitude for one another as educators and students--and even more so, in this moment as fellow humans.

***

Like all of us, Emily and Jeremy are living their brutiful life journey; five years ago they asked me to participate in their wedding ceremony by reading a couple of poems. It was so fitting given the memory of how we all connected in our poetry club years before.  I was honored especially because as teachers we often do not see former students--let alone over a decade later.  So to bear witness to Emily and Jeremy's love over the years has been a gift for which I am beyond grateful.

Reflecting on the gracious teacher/student relationship I had with Emily and Jeremy and now mutual friendship reminds me that often in education we can get caught up in grades, state testing, and rigorous expectations.  However, if we look at the bigger picture, we will really see how important vulnerability, connection, love and belonging are--as it is in those moments that ultimately we learn.