Day ② #SOL21: Contemplating Community

 

  

"A true community is not just about being geographically close to someone or part of the same social web network. It's about feeling connected and responsible for what happens. Humanity is our ultimate community, and everyone plays a crucial role." ~Yehuda Berg

As a self proclaimed ambivert, the pandemic exposed a deep, abiding need for community in my life. For years now, my collegial relationships have sustained me, and when Coronavirus shuttered us indoors—like so many others—I felt lost, alone, and desperately hungry for connection. As the initial shock of the deadly virus rippled across the globe, a group of former colleagues and I began to meet on Zoom once a week, just to check on each other and process the tsunami of all we were feeling. This crew of teachers were some of the first folks I ever sliced with back in 2013, and after years of serving on a curriculum writing team together, we discovered we needed each other again. Yesi, Tara, Brittany, Mandy, Sandy, and I would pour a glass of wine and try to make sense of a world turned upside down. Throughout March, April, and May, these weekly Zoom connections sustained me. 

Photo circa 2013

A few days ago, the image below popped up on my Facebook memories. A pang of grief washed over me, as I thought about this weekend celebration. It was last "normal" gathering, BC—Before Coronavirus changed our lives forever. I became a teacher in 2001, and these women raised me, nurtured me, and shaped the educator I am today. Annually, our J-bird crew flocks together to reminisce, dance, laugh, drink and solve the world's problems. Several of these teachers have since retired, and although our lives and careers have taken each of us different directions, we've stayed close and connected. It's been over a year now since we've all been together, and I miss them. 

Just weeks before the pandemic upended our lives, I quit my job as a literacy coordinator in a rural community, not far from my suburban home in DFW. The two years I spent in this small school district shaped my path in profound ways, and luckily I collected some really amazing humans on the journey. Ulyana and Angie kept me sane through some really rocky moments, and I've been so thankful we've found ways to stay connected across this last year. Of course the community that has probably changed me the most are my bilingual amigas—Paty, Gabby, Sonia, and Diane. From our American Dirt book club, to sharing tamales in the park, to learning to play Lotería, I've been forever changed by their generosity, kindness, and humanity. Thanks to Voxer, we've continued to connect on a routine basis, and we're over-due for our monthly gathering. 

In June of 2020, I accepted a position as a literacy coach in Keller, ISD. Once, again, this meant forging a path with new colleagues in a new school district. Except this time, I would have to form relationships through tiny windows across a computer screen. Meeting every new colleague I encountered in Zoom spaces proved wildly challenging. For the first time in several years, I was no longer in a professional position with self-imposed isolation. Instead, I joined a group of literacy coaches who work and grow alongside one another daily. We serve different campuses, but our day-in-and-day-out work keeps us connected. Last week, we gathered in a physical space for the very first time, and the experience felt jolting after a year of building community through Voxer and Zoom. Despite all the hurdles in our pathway this year, we've managed to build one of the strongest, most vibrant PLC's I've ever been a part of. I invited several of these colleagues to join me in the slicing journey this year, and as we read each others blogs last night, I couldn't help but feel a bit emotional. Writing together creates inextricable connections and bonds humans in powerful ways. 

  

In addition to all these beautiful people I'm been privileged to call my colleagues and friends, I also found solace in multiple online groups throughout the pandemic. In the spring, I joined the Liberate & Chill Collective to learn more about ABAR—Antibiased, Antiracist teaching practices. The #TCRWP community kept me thinking deeply about reading and writing to change the world. The Nerdy Book Club provided a steady stream of book recommendations, and  of course the Two Writing Teachers blog nudged me to continue thinking about how writing rehumanizes us all. Brené  Brown's podcast, Unlocking Us, launched in March of last year, and each week, I'd meet new thought leaders, authors, musicians, and artists—which often felt like community to me. My Twitter PLN continues to expand, and I've found so much hope in the 140 characters shared by passionate teachers, advocates, and activities from around the nation. These various communities have sustained and nourished my soul. 

I will close this lengthy blog by simply stating that I need people. I'm deeply grateful to belong to each of these communities.