Let's face it, the past 2020 really upped the demands on teachers and parents. If you've been supporting students, you know that it can simultaneously be gratifying and frustrating. I see you and all of your incredible efforts! But, unfortunately, as we juggle the demands of life, we often forget to take care of ourselves.

But when we take care of ourselves, we're better able to take care of all the rest.

I believe each of us has the agency and ability to make positive changes, yet sometimes we need support and encouragement. Great teachers and coaches do that, and frankly, I am one of those great teachers and coaches. (If you don't believe me, check out these testimonials).

No matter whom I work with, the following are true:

• Changes lead to growth.

• We can be more grounded when we know our priorities, values, and people.

• When we are grounded, we're able to grow - and to help the tiny humans in our lives grow, too!

I'm a lifelong learner and seasoned (um, dare I say, OG) educator. Name an age or grade and I've taught it! I've also led parenting classes, taught at community college, and have trained teachers in over 25 states and from around the world.

For the past four years, I worked exclusively with individual coaching clients and consulting with organizations on self-care and self-growth. In 2020, I returned to teaching. (Yes, you read that right. I voluntarily went back to teaching both virtually and in-person!) I didn’t realize how much I missed the zeal and energy of teaching, especially with a dollop of gratitude felt by all who could be there IRL together - learning, playing, and growing!

Before the pandemic, I knew that teaching was among the most stressful occupations. Yet, walking the walk again reinforced my abiding desire to empower educators and promote parenting to better support students.

To all you educators and parents, I see you and your incredible efforts to support students! (Imagine me clapping and cheering for you because I am!)

We're all out of practice, if not downright dusty and rusty, with connecting to other humans. Even seeing people's full faces (i.e., no masks) can be unsettling. But as humans, we are wired for connection so hiding behind masks means we really, really need to connect.

I had a plan about what I'd write this week - introducing a new offering and hinting at what is coming down the pike. I’ve even got a road map for the next three months to cover the four pillars of my work (organization, growth, human connection and our social emotional well being).

But then life gets hectic and messy and screams for our attention and energy. I spent a couple of days planning work, dropping it to tend to other things, and fretting about not writing. I was barely managing to stay ahead of the writing deadlines for the forthcoming book I am a co-author. As I’ve shared before, I am an Obliger so there’s nothing like a little external accountability to keep me headed in the right direction.

However more I fretted about my inability to do the work I had planned, the more annoyed I got at my inflexibility. I knew better than to cling to what wasn't working, but still, I wanted my way to work. (Insert foot-stomp and pouty face.) By clinging to these ideals caused me to struggle and suffer more than I needed. I realized I had to lean into the demands in front of me and wait for the time to write.

Many years ago in grade school, I was required to read an academic article on Carole Dweck’s research. I was immediately a fan and went on to write several papers and follow her work. Years later when Angela Duckworth’s book Grit came out, I felt both a twinge of age (what’s old is new again) and enthusiasm for how Dweck’s seminal work from three decades ago was now being leveraged in education.

Dweck’s work came to be a defining influence in my education. It instilled my belief that life is a series of lessons and when we're open to it, there are infinite possibilities to learning and grow. Every professional opportunity has taught me something about myself, the world, and the human experience. Every human I take the time to get to know teaches me something and often makes me a better person.

TBH, I am acutely aware that our circumstances and times that I have a fixed mindset. I have to own that if I am going to overcome it.

I call myself a serial learner, which sounds like a brag, but sometimes is indeed a slippery slope. I've been known to sign up for too many online classes at once or purchase far more books than I can possibly read in a month.

When we are working on projects or jobs we love, we somehow expect it to be fun and fulfilling. It often is, but a lot of the time, it’s not fun. It’s work, it’s hard, and it’s messy. It’s unpredictable.

I know that if I am going to be consistent - at least 80% of the time - I need to set up predictable and efficient routines. I also need to give myself permission to be flexible roughly 20% of the time.

That means I have the same yoga practice two days a week, the same cycling/weight routine two days, and then the other three days, I am flexible. I realize the math doesn't quite add up to 80/20, but there's a perfect opportunity to be flexible! (The reality is, I usually wing it two of those days and take one day off).

While I don't always totally enjoy the workout, it feels good to put energy and attention where I intend to put it. And that is part of the fuel in the predictable, efficient routines.

Even though I know this, I have been struggling to put predictable structures in my morning routine.

I do my best thinking from 6 am until about 11 am. But that time can just slip by, leaving me facing the afternoon and a whole lot of unmet obligations and desires.

It’s been a while since I wrote here, but believe me, I’ve been writing.

I’ve been writing revisions to courses, writing students’ report card comments (it was so fun to fill in for parental leave in a second-grade classroom - with real, healthy humans in the flesh!), and a forthcoming book I am co-authoring.

But the blog was neglected.

Truth be told, I had a major case of pandemic fatigue once my in-person teaching wrapped up. Having been out in the world, I was less than enamored about returning to WFH. I had to work again to find my grove sharing our home and workspace with my family and four furry friends.

And then, winter started to wither away. I was fortunate to be doubled vaxxed and feeling slightly safer getting back into the world. Dr. Lucy McBride’s article in the Washington Post reinforces I am not alone!

Stress. Of all shapes and sizes. From the tiny bruises that we gather each day to the chronic toxic stress that comes with trauma, we all have stress right now. Many among us try to find some humor in the seemingly relentless string of stressors. In the past few weeks in our house we’ve had:

I wrote this piece a few weeks back. Since then, I've rewritten a zillion times in my head, scouring for more accurate details, questioning my memory, and maintaining motivation. Ultimately, my perseverating on this one boils down to reminding myself we have all endured hard things. As we slog through the current hard things, our brains are searching for ways to find certainty.

As we settle into the heat of summer and accept the evolving state of affairs, life may feel slightly less chaotic and just plain uncertain. Over the years, I've become accustomed to finding moments of calm amidst the chaos. The past four months have given me plenty of opportunities to practice what I preach - some days with more success than others! As the saying goes, the only constant thing is change!

I am rarely at a loss for words, but lately, it’s become rare that I feel like I have the right words to say. One of my coaching colleagues explained that her approach now is to pause to consider why we are saying what we are saying. Further, we need to carefully consider who will benefit from what we might share.

Our first house was impeccably maintained for fifty years by Mr. Uhle, a sprite, German octogenarian. The house itself structurally sound but the outside blissfully unkempt. He admitted that his wife, who had passed decades earlier, had tended to the yard. He was "reminded of her when the tall heads of the bearded iris sprang up over the carpet of greens." Little did I know we'd carry a bit of Mrs. Uhle with us for 25 years and counting. Nor did I realize that those iris would remind us that we all have what we need to weather change and disruption, even when it feels hard to bloom.

There are some days I have woken up with an intense need to help someone. To feel of service and to feel as if I have some agency over this spinning universe that is presently so uncertain. There are other days, I want to escape, to hide, to shrink because the universe feels, well, so uncertain and vast. Those days, I am not sure what I am in control of nor what is going to feel satisfying or nourishing or helpful.

I hope you are okay. I hope you are feeling more abundance that scarcity. More contentment than anxiety. But if you’re not, I’m thinking of you. Life is hard right now. But nothing is permanent. Things will change.