I’ve been called Pollyanna before. I’ve been called happy and optimistic. I’ve been told I always see the bright side, and I guess what I’ve been told is true.
Walking out of school today at 3:30ish, I had no piece of writing calling to be written. Ideas were swirling, they always are, but, not one was showing the potential for landing on the page. I started my car and drove towards home.
The wind was whipping. The rain, that had fallen sideways and seemingly upside down throughout the day, had paused. I watched as the signs and the trees were thrust this way and that. I decided to meander home via the beaches to see what menacing magic the wind was casting on the water.
Approaching the beach, I turned down the radio, and turned up my senses. My eyes began to search for the water, my ears tuning into the wind. One bend of the road led into another and there it was, the water loaded with white caps. I pulled over and admired the rolling, rising white caps scattered atop the water.
I got out of my car and climbed atop a picnic table to get a better view. Amazing, fierce, beautiful. My Pollyanna voice began to talk. I listened. It sounded something like this –
“Traveling on this road The Covid has paved for us as educators, we need to rise above the negativity and cynicism, like the white caps. Maybe if we rise above and scatter the belief that we can get through this and do what’s right for kids, others will begin to believe in the amazing, fierce beauty that is pandemic teaching and learning.”