**I’m late to the writing party, but I’ll be adding more than one post this week.**

On the way to class today, I heard an eager, “Hi Ms. Dewey! Ms. Dewey! Hi!” One of my former students sought me out. Immediately, I recognized him with the nagging realization that oh boy, time flies, as it has been at least six years since he enrolled in my ENG091 class, then subsequently for ENG101. He is a veteran, and when he came to GCC initially, he struggled with navigating how the skills he learned and used as an innate leader in the military could integrate into his daily life as a civilian and student. I remember the chilling first lines of his narrative: “If death was a person, I would have shook his hand on October 1, 2009. During a combat patrol in Afghanistan, I was with my platoon of twenty men.” This morning, he wanted to let me know that though he had taken a few years off, he is back and here now to finish his degree. Little did he know that in the earlier part of this week I was finding inspiration in Seattle at the Innovations Conference with the League for Innovation in the Community College, so I couldn’t help but respond with, “Awesome! I think that’s what community colleges do. Our students come, they may have to leave to take care of things, but we are always here to educate them when they come back.”

It is nothing short of appropriate that I ran into him today, when I did, as yesterday, I flew home to Phoenix guiltily mulling over what I was going to write for my blog posts I’ve clearly been postponing. At the conference, the theme of innovation, of course, was ever-present in a majority of the sessions, along with the encouragement that though we are in precarious times in higher education, the importance of the community college remains steadfast. Roy Spence of The Purpose Institute and The Promiseland Project kickstarted the innovative insight with a quote from Emerson, “Do not go where the path may lead, go where there is no path and leave a trail.” This is something, he asserts, we should be conveying to our students as we help them to find what they love to do. After a video of a Norwegian quartet crooning with a beautifully haunting rendition of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah,” he reveals this is what purpose in our work sounds like because: “Everyone needs to know the words to the song, listen to each other, stand up for when it’s your turn, and it sounds pretty awesome when we sing it together” (Spence, 2020). As community college faculty and leaders, we have a great song to sing.

Martha Kanter continued the message with news on College Promise juxtaposing some of the nation’s challenges like “99% of new jobs are awarded to workers with some college; the cost of college has increased times twelve over the past thirty years; students have accumulated 1.6 trillion in debt; fourteen percent of community college students are homeless” (Kanter, 2020). In Kanter’s keynote, we also heard from a young woman who spoke about her past as a homeless trafficking victim with an eighth grade education who could not speak at the age of 27. Ten years ago, she found an escape in attending community college and is now in a Ph.D. program and leads a non-profit in downtown Seattle. She gave immense gratitude to her community college instructors for changing her life’s trajectory, essentially for saving her life.

We live in challenging, uncertain times, especially in the community college when students have more options for higher education than ever before and are simultaneously facing increasing basic needs insecurity. Indubitably, the Innovations Conference was introspectively motivational regarding my current role and pedagogy. It seems we must remain optimistic, innovative, and continue to believe that, “In doing our work, our community colleges are building the real American Dream for our country” (Kanter, 2020). We will always remain relevant for our students and our communities.

Sleepless in Seattle!

A few years ago, I cancelled my cable subscription. I had kept it far too long because every time I called to cancel it the sales person on the other end of the line would remind me that I had a bundled package with my internet service which was only a little bit more a month than interwebs alone. Then they would give me some sort of incentive that gave me premium channels for another 6 months and the cycle would continue.

When I made that final call to ACTUALLY cancel my cable, it was different. It was different because my reason for canceling was different. I cancelled my cable to save myself from my bad viewing habits. I had realized that the only things I was watching on live television were home renovation shows with amazing before and after moments and The Real Housewives of anywhere, you name it, and I watched it. Now, while I do love a big reveal and a discovery of shiplap behind plaster, I do not love the fact that I had become immune to the forced conflict of women behaving badly towards one another for my viewing pleasure. I watched women scream at one another, throw drinks, flip tables, smash cakes, and be generally vile. I watched as conflict became “reality.” The level of schadenfreude I experienced was not worth the pangs of guilt I felt as a feminist, human, and educator.

Regardless of the previous failed attempts to cut the cord, I made the call. It was difficult to say no to all the offers of free HBO and extended discounts, but this time the difficult conversation of saying no to a cable provider was made much easier because the reason for cancelling was worthy of the difficult conversation.

I provide this somewhat silly example above because I think it highlights some ideas I have for having difficult conversations in general both with classes, individual students, and colleagues.

I am by no means an expert in this field, but I am always working towards being an advocate and accomplice in the face of systemic oppression which means lending my voice to some difficult conversations. Since I am a fan of lists, here is my list of are some of the thoughts I have had when thinking about difficult conversations:

1. Pick your battles.

Not everything needs to be addressed all of the time. We must decided which difficult conversations are even worth having. This can be anything from cell phone use in the classroom to microaggressions. You have to decide whether you are safe to have a conversation, and if your audience is receptive to hearing. And yes, sometimes we need to speak up even if our audience isn’t receptive to hearing what we have to say. My point is that when presented with a choice of whether or not you want to have a discussion you can make that decision.

2. Know your limits.

This goes hand in hand with pick your battles. Knowing what you care about how far you are willing to take that conversation will make it easier to set boundaries in difficult conversations.

3. Be mindful of outcomes

When having a difficult conversation, I find it helpful to keep in mind the outcome I desire. Am I looking for action or am I simply looking to be heard? Knowing what I want to gain from the conversation helps me to keep focused on the task at hand.

by Dr. Krysten Pampel and Dr. Ashley Nicoloff

In my life as an educator, I have been faced with many difficult situations that were hard for me to navigate. The one that has stuck with me the longest was when I was teaching high school. I had two brothers who were both taking my algebra course, one a freshman and the other a junior. The only day that they both attended my class was the first day of school, from there on out I only ever had one of the brothers. About two weeks into the school year, I approached the older brother to enquire why I only saw him every other day. He chose to be vague and blame illness and bad timing of a family emergency. I didn’t push but I watched for another two weeks as the brother continued their alternating attendance in my class. They were both doing reasonably well in my course and they weren’t hurting anyone but the situation bothered me.

I decided that enough was enough, I needed to get to the bottom of this unusual behavior. I approached the younger brother this time and asked about the unusual attendance pattern. The younger brother explained that they were alternating days to attend because they had two non-school aged siblings at home and their mother was working a second job. They had to alternate attendance in order to make sure that the siblings at home were cared for.

I was astounded that this was the reason but checked with the older brother the next day to confirm the story since I was unable to get the mother on the phone, understandably, in the previous weeks. The older brother asked me to keep this quiet and that he appreciated my willingness to work with him and his brother for the assignments and tests. He admitted to me that they had been doing this alternating attendance for the past two years and he was excited to have his brother in high school so it could work more effectively.

I explained to him that I could not keep our conversation a secret and I would speak with the social worker to see if there could be any support given. It was risking to bring in the social worker since in some cases the students flee the school as a way to avoid the conversations that follow. In this case, I was happy that everything worked out. The school was able to find support for the family so that the younger children could receive care, their mother could work, and both brothers could attend school regularly.

This was a difficult situation for me to navigate but those two brothers were the ones that had “difficult situations.” Those two brothers will forever be a reminder to me that “tough times create tough people.”

As I read the prompt this week, I heard the Barenaked Ladies’ song singing to me, “When you dream, what do you dream about?” (I’ve embedded the song below if you need to get this ear-worm in your head.)

My dream classroom is a little far-fetched, but for the sake of the dreamers who dream big dreams out there, here it is!

I teach Communication, so all of my classes have different components and styles of speaking, including Public Speaking and group presentations. One important lesson is adapting to the environment, in our case, the classroom that we’re assigned. This replicates many “real life” public speaking situations where the speaker may not have control over the room chosen for the speech: the keynote speaker didn’t chose the city, the hotel, or the Gray Cliffs conference room where the opening banquet (and speech) will take place, nor did the speaker get to pick the audio visual equipment provided by, or absent from, the venue.

In these ways, adapting to a classroom situation and speaking with the tools available in the conditions available become an important skill for budding speakers. However, one annoyance for me as a Com teacher is the disclaimers we have to make due to the classroom restrictions. Outside of academia, it is rare to speak to a group of people who are each sitting in a desk… in a room not designed for public speaking… at a specific duration of time. These are the challenges my dream classroom would overcome.

In my dream classroom, the room would be magically adaptable to any speaking situation. The classroom could become an auditorium, with theater style seating (and theater-quality projection systems, just for fun!) This would include a formal, raised stage as many presentations take place in environments such as this. Students would then get to practice filling a large space with projected volume OR how to navigate the complexities of using a microphone (handheld, attached to a podium, ominously clipped to a shirt and worn around prior to the actual speech… begging for a comical pre-speech gaff.) Students would learn how to enter and exit from a stage, literally stepping into the spotlight of the audience’s perception. They may have to navigate speaking while professionally lit, where one often cannot see the audience… yet should still appear to connect with them.

But this classroom is magical. (And sure, theater has it’s own type of magic.) It would not only be a stage, because often times, speeches are not performed in such a formal, professional venue.

My magic classroom would also become a Board Room. In the fashion of many Board Rooms, this one would be long and narrow and have artful (yet totally distracting) windows. A Board Room creates new challenges. First, it is an awkward set-up. The long, skinny format means that people in the back are craning around people in the front. If the focus is not the center of the table (and let’s hope you’re not here to table dance), then everyone in the audience, except perhaps the chairperson sitting at the head of the table, must turn their chairs or heads to see the speaker. Board Rooms usually have some sort of audio and maybe even a visual outlet, but for most meetings, these go unused. Therefore, when tasked with turning on this state-of-the-art equipment, most attendees will be pretty helpless, and technical difficulties will arise.

The speaker/student would be tasked with navigating these challenges of a real-life speaking situation. Did the student contact the venue prior to the speech to ask about equipment and set-up? Did the student arrive early to get their presentation loaded (and to allow time for the receptionist to call Duane from IT to come in and figure out how to get this speaker’s portable projector linked to the network and turned on)? Once this technical portion of the speech is running, the speaker must then find ways to connect with an audience in a much more intimate space while also maintaining professionalism and likability. Oh, and landing that client with superb persuasive skills.

But my magic classroom wouldn’t be complete without being able to transform into a Banquet Hall. Many speeches occur at special occasions such as weddings, graduations, retirements, and a multitude of awards ceremonies. Usually there is food served at these events. Speaker are tasked with presenting the oral tribute while the audience is tasked with orally ingesting banquet-quality food.

Banquets are usually arranged around the meal. Therefore, tables are usually circular, pre-set with dinnerware, and large enough to accommodate 4-12 diners. Speakers are usually on a stage or dance floor. This set up forces some members of the audience to move their seats or their heads/mouths away from their meal to face the speaker while others are forced to chose between their meal and the speaker while others try to manage eating while listening/watching. Add in formal clothing, and you can see the recipe for potential disaster.

Speakers are competing over multiple distractions and must plan their speeches accordingly. Good speakers manage the distractions by being captivating, epic presenters but also by being aware of timing and appropriateness of the occasion.

My magic classroom would be able to transition seamlessly from one set-up to another. We could replicate any type of speaking situation students might be preparing for from presenting a sales pitch to a group of investors to leading military training at Boot Camp to being a guest reader at Dr. Seuss Week at your child’s elementary school. My classroom would magically change shape, location, accessibility of equipment, all with the push of a button… or a swish of the wand. Accio, magic classroom. (I had to try.)

But until my magic classroom manifests itself, I will continue to do my best to prepare students for the many challenges of “real-life” speaking situations to hopefully create more aware, diligent, and ready students.

So maybe… the magic of the classroom lies within those of us lucky enough to teach.