Tag Archives: Write 6×6

Write6x6

Just a Girl in Senior English

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I dreaded my College Composition course in the fall of 1981. Not because I hated writing, but rather because of the teacher I was assigned – Mr. Luther Stewart. Mr. Stewart had a reputation at Scottsdale High School which included failing my brother in Freshman English. He was not to be trifled with. (And yes, he would hate that dangling preposition.)

Rumor was that Mr. Stewart had, at one point, been a lawyer but left it all to become a teacher. He looked more teacherly than lawyerly, with a largish bald head and over-sized glasses that magnified his glaring eyes. He didn’t smile much.

My own knowledge of Mr. Stewart stretched back to the first day of sophomore Advanced English, and he was my assigned teacher then. During the previous year, I had been on a Rumspringa of sorts from my regular academic persona. I discovered boys and drinking. I almost failed Algebra. I got kicked out of a class once, and I made my family very nervous. “What happened to Mary?” they all asked.

On that first day of sophomore year, Mr. Stewart passed out a chunky list of required reading, which consisted of no less than 25 classic texts. My then-14-year-old self balked and quickly retreated to a “regular” English class for the rest of the year.

Fast-forward to senior year, and Mr. Stewart was again on my slate of classes. This time, there was nowhere to run, and I resigned myself to being in his class. I entered Mr. Stewart’s room with a great deal of shame and a definite lack of belief in myself.

The regular assignment in his class was a weekly essay, and he allowed us to choose topics that were personally meaningful. I remember one such essay I wrote: “A Girl Should Make Her Prom Dress Instead of Buying One.” Let’s unpack this title for a moment. I am a “girl” in the 80’s. My pressing topic is prom dresses, and above that I am hell-bent on sewing my own.

I was a pom-pom girl. My path set out by my parents was to become a wife and mother (in that exact order). Nobody took me seriously, and I didn’t either. Enter Mr. Stewart. Our College Composition class was full of lively discussion, although the boys in the class were most vocal. On more than one occasion, Mr. Stewart would stomp his foot, raise his hand in the air, and exclaim, “Form follows the function of a reasoning mind!” We had debates in class such as “What is truth?” He taught us the art and science of argumentation.

As each week progressed, Mr. Stewart would provide detailed feedback on my essays, and his red pen was all over my papers. But deep down, I knew that level of feedback meant he cared and that I had something to offer. I felt like more than just a girl to be cast aside. My voice mattered.

With each essay, his ice melted, his encouragement ramped up, and I started to look forward to the weekly challenge of impressing him. Towards the end of the school year, he wrote the following feedback on one of my essays: “Sounds like you – a high compliment!” Today, I have these words on a sticky note on my desk, and I believe that praise is why I love writing today. And, it’s why, as a teacher, I want to hear and honor the voices of all my students.

The post Just a Girl in Senior English appeared first on My Love of Learning.

Living, Write6x6

Teaching Boundaries, Part I – Tech

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I wake up to the first morning light, my brain recently bathed in glorious REM sleep. The restorative powers of sleep are legion: memory consolidation, increased problem-solving abilities, boosted immune functioning to name a few. There is evidence the brain performs a sort of housecleaning during shut-eye, making morning a ripe time for starting out the day with renewed clarity and potential.

So what do I do? Before my feet hit the floor, I grab my cell phone off the bedside table and let the fresh horrors of the overnight world infiltrate my blissfully open mind.

I tell myself that I am checking my phone because I have children. (But they are in their early 30’s, y’all.) Then, I see a red flag indicating I have e-mail, and without thinking I click to open it. And, while I’m here, I might as well check Facebook . . .

I know none of this is good. First, any student who e-mails me overnight is not writing to say what a wonderful teacher I am. Instead, it’s that there’s been a death in the family or they just plain forgot they had an assignment due at 11:59pm. And don’t get me started on how scrolling social media can affect mood.

I noticed a tendency to feel tethered to tech when I started teaching online full-time about five years ago. I had a gnawing sense that I needed to be able to respond to students at all hours of the day (and night). I thought that since I wasn’t actually teaching in-person, the tradeoff was making myself widely available to students.

So, I found myself reaching for my phone at stoplights, while I waited for my coffee, pretty much any time my brain was idle for a minute. Heaven forbid I should be left alone with my thoughts.

What I found, however, is that I was feeling exhausted all the time as an online teacher. I felt overwhelmed and a tad resentful. It seemed like I could never “catch up.” I know I’m not alone in this. Many teachers feel like their workdays never end, and that is because they don’t. Tech has a frightening way of blurring day into night, weekdays into weekends, our 40s into our 50s . . .

Over time I have discovered that most of the angst in my life can be traced to boundaries. According to Nedra Glover Tawwab, author of Set Boundaries, Find Peace, the definition of boundaries is, “expectations and needs that help you feel safe and comfortable in your relationships.” Thus, a tech boundary is one set for your relationship with yourself.

Okay, so just set a tech boundary. I’ll just tell myself I won’t pick up my phone at the slightest hint of ennui. Easy, right?

Not so fast. What makes this a struggle is we battle our brain’s reward system when we fight tech. The little red dot with a number on it is anything but innocuous; it is there to prompt us to lay eyes on the alert. Tech shapes our behavior by hijacking the reward system.

So what’s the reward associated with opening overnight e-mail?  It actually might be the positive rush of seeing that there is, to quote my cop-husband, “nothing to see here” – that good feeling of realizing there are no fires to extinguish.

In her book Good Habits, Bad Habits, author Wendy Wood writes about creating “friction” around behaviors we want to discourage. In this way, we interrupt habits that are deeply grooved in our neural pathways. Here are some ideas I’m working on for putting friction between me and tech:

  • Remove work e-mail from my phone and home devices. This works as long as I don’t circumvent by logging into e-mail using my phone’s browser.
  • Alternatively, remove e-mail notifications from all devices. Can’t quite remove e-mail from your phone altogether? Disable the notifications that keep us coming back.
  • Designate three periods a day for checking e-mail. I am more successful with this on some days than others. But, I find I am more focused when I am not trying to multi-task.
  • Put my phone where it can’t be accessed quickly. I’m not as likely to grab my phone at every stop light if it isn’t right there on the console. At the grocery store, I can put my phone at the bottom of my bag.

The other day, while waiting for coffee at my local shop, I instantly reached for my phone and thought better of it. Even if there is an e-mail I need to respond to, must I do it right now? Instead, I immersed myself in the artwork on the walls and felt a better kind of rush.

Up next week – musings on setting time boundaries as a teacher.

The post Teaching Boundaries, Part I – Tech appeared first on My Love of Learning.

Living, Write6x6

Teaching Boundaries, Part I – Tech

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I wake up to the first morning light, my brain recently bathed in glorious REM sleep. The restorative powers of sleep are legion: memory consolidation, increased problem-solving abilities, boosted immune functioning to name a few. There is evidence the brain performs a sort of housecleaning during shut-eye, making morning a ripe time for starting out the day with renewed clarity and potential.

So what do I do? Before my feet hit the floor, I grab my cell phone off the bedside table and let the fresh horrors of the overnight world infiltrate my blissfully open mind.

I tell myself that I am checking my phone because I have children. (But they are in their early 30’s, y’all.) Then, I see a red flag indicating I have e-mail, and without thinking I click to open it. And, while I’m here, I might as well check Facebook . . .

I know none of this is good. First, any student who e-mails me overnight is not writing to say what a wonderful teacher I am. Instead, it’s that there’s been a death in the family or they just plain forgot they had an assignment due at 11:59pm. And don’t get me started on how scrolling social media can affect mood.

I noticed a tendency to feel tethered to tech when I started teaching online full-time about five years ago. I had a gnawing sense that I needed to be able to respond to students at all hours of the day (and night). I thought that since I wasn’t actually teaching in-person, the tradeoff was making myself widely available to students.

So, I found myself reaching for my phone at stoplights, while I waited for my coffee, pretty much any time my brain was idle for a minute. Heaven forbid I should be left alone with my thoughts.

What I found, however, is that I was feeling exhausted all the time as an online teacher. I felt overwhelmed and a tad resentful. It seemed like I could never “catch up.” I know I’m not alone in this. Many teachers feel like their workdays never end, and that is because they don’t. Tech has a frightening way of blurring day into night, weekdays into weekends, our 40s into our 50s . . .

Over time I have discovered that most of the angst in my life can be traced to boundaries. According to Nedra Glover Tawwab, author of Set Boundaries, Find Peace, the definition of boundaries is, “expectations and needs that help you feel safe and comfortable in your relationships.” Thus, a tech boundary is one set for your relationship with yourself.

Okay, so just set a tech boundary. I’ll just tell myself I won’t pick up my phone at the slightest hint of ennui. Easy, right?

Not so fast. What makes this a struggle is we battle our brain’s reward system when we fight tech. The little red dot with a number on it is anything but innocuous; it is there to prompt us to lay eyes on the alert. Tech shapes our behavior by hijacking the reward system.

So what’s the reward associated with opening overnight e-mail?  It actually might be the positive rush of seeing that there is, to quote my cop-husband, “nothing to see here” – that good feeling of realizing there are no fires to extinguish.

In her book Good Habits, Bad Habits, author Wendy Wood writes about creating “friction” around behaviors we want to discourage. In this way, we interrupt habits that are deeply grooved in our neural pathways. Here are some ideas I’m working on for putting friction between me and tech:

  • Remove work e-mail from my phone and home devices. This works as long as I don’t circumvent by logging into e-mail using my phone’s browser.
  • Alternatively, remove e-mail notifications from all devices. Can’t quite remove e-mail from your phone altogether? Disable the notifications that keep us coming back.
  • Designate three periods a day for checking e-mail. I am more successful with this on some days than others. But, I find I am more focused when I am not trying to multi-task.
  • Put my phone where it can’t be accessed quickly. I’m not as likely to grab my phone at every stop light if it isn’t right there on the console. At the grocery store, I can put my phone at the bottom of my bag.

The other day, while waiting for coffee at my local shop, I instantly reached for my phone and thought better of it. Even if there is an e-mail I need to respond to, must I do it right now? Instead, I immersed myself in the artwork on the walls and felt a better kind of rush.

Up next week – musings on setting time boundaries as a teacher.

The post Teaching Boundaries, Part I – Tech appeared first on My Love of Learning.

Living, Write6x6

Teaching Boundaries, Part I – Tech

Leave a comment

I wake up to the first morning light, my brain recently bathed in glorious REM sleep. The restorative powers of sleep are legion: memory consolidation, increased problem-solving abilities, boosted immune functioning to name a few. There is evidence the brain performs a sort of housecleaning during shut-eye, making morning a ripe time for starting out the day with renewed clarity and potential.

So what do I do? Before my feet hit the floor, I grab my cell phone off the bedside table and let the fresh horrors of the overnight world infiltrate my blissfully open mind.

I tell myself that I am checking my phone because I have children. (But they are in their early 30’s, y’all.) Then, I see a red flag indicating I have e-mail, and without thinking I click to open it. And, while I’m here, I might as well check Facebook . . .

I know none of this is good. First, any student who e-mails me overnight is not writing to say what a wonderful teacher I am. Instead, it’s that there’s been a death in the family or they just plain forgot they had an assignment due at 11:59pm. And don’t get me started on how scrolling social media can affect mood.

I noticed a tendency to feel tethered to tech when I started teaching online full-time about five years ago. I had a gnawing sense that I needed to be able to respond to students at all hours of the day (and night). I thought that since I wasn’t actually teaching in-person, the tradeoff was making myself widely available to students.

So, I found myself reaching for my phone at stoplights, while I waited for my coffee, pretty much any time my brain was idle for a minute. Heaven forbid I should be left alone with my thoughts.

What I found, however, is that I was feeling exhausted all the time as an online teacher. I felt overwhelmed and a tad resentful. It seemed like I could never “catch up.” I know I’m not alone in this. Many teachers feel like their workdays never end, and that is because they don’t. Tech has a frightening way of blurring day into night, weekdays into weekends, our 40s into our 50s . . .

Over time I have discovered that most of the angst in my life can be traced to boundaries. According to Nedra Glover Tawwab, author of Set Boundaries, Find Peace, the definition of boundaries is, “expectations and needs that help you feel safe and comfortable in your relationships.” Thus, a tech boundary is one set for your relationship with yourself.

Okay, so just set a tech boundary. I’ll just tell myself I won’t pick up my phone at the slightest hint of ennui. Easy, right?

Not so fast. What makes this a struggle is we battle our brain’s reward system when we fight tech. The little red dot with a number on it is anything but innocuous; it is there to prompt us to lay eyes on the alert. Tech shapes our behavior by hijacking the reward system.

So what’s the reward associated with opening overnight e-mail?  It actually might be the positive rush of seeing that there is, to quote my cop-husband, “nothing to see here” – that good feeling of realizing there are no fires to extinguish.

In her book Good Habits, Bad Habits, author Wendy Wood writes about creating “friction” around behaviors we want to discourage. In this way, we interrupt habits that are deeply grooved in our neural pathways. Here are some ideas I’m working on for putting friction between me and tech:

  • Remove work e-mail from my phone and home devices. This works as long as I don’t circumvent by logging into e-mail using my phone’s browser.
  • Alternatively, remove e-mail notifications from all devices. Can’t quite remove e-mail from your phone altogether? Disable the notifications that keep us coming back.
  • Designate three periods a day for checking e-mail. I am more successful with this on some days than others. But, I find I am more focused when I am not trying to multi-task.
  • Put my phone where it can’t be accessed quickly. I’m not as likely to grab my phone at every stop light if it isn’t right there on the console. At the grocery store, I can put my phone at the bottom of my bag.

The other day, while waiting for coffee at my local shop, I instantly reached for my phone and thought better of it. Even if there is an e-mail I need to respond to, must I do it right now? Instead, I immersed myself in the artwork on the walls and felt a better kind of rush.

Up next week – musings on setting time boundaries as a teacher.

The post Teaching Boundaries, Part I – Tech appeared first on My Love of Learning.

play, spring break, Write6x6

It’s Play Time for Teacher

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I am the youngest of four children. Therefore, it was my birthright to become a clown, the fun one, a good kind of “player.” Instead, I became a teacher. And, for me, this role brought all the attendant expectations: long days, not-a-few sleepless nights, regular coffee-fueled thrusts towards pedagogical glory.

So, it should come as no surprise that when I see a week of spring break sprawled out in front of me, I start to calculate how much I can accomplish in order to get caught up at work (as if such an elusive state actually exists). But then, that baby-in-the-family in me reaches out from the deep recesses to wave her tiny finger and say, “Not so fast, Missy!”

As a psychologist, I know the importance of play. But, I constantly have to remind myself that all work and no play actually makes Dr. Duggan a tightly-wound shell of a human. Not exactly what I’m going for in life.

Before we went on break, I asked my Health Psychology students about what they do for play. One of them immediately popped up with, “Define play!” (I love these people!) According to Merriam-Webster, to play is to “engage in activity for enjoyment and recreation rather than a serious or practical purpose.”

It turns out, students and teachers alike can get caught up into cycles of overwork. Our talk about play in class quickly morphed into a discussion of “Who the hell has time?” However, one of my students mentioned giving and getting tattoos as a form of recreation. Another student said playing with her dog is her go-to for enjoyment. The conversation moved into other forms of play, such as watching TV, playing video games, and hanging out with friends.

My students inspire me, and so far my break is off to a good start. Yesterday I jogged around the park with my friends and went out for a nice breakfast after. Today, I read (for pleasure) and got a foot massage. And then there’s my daily Wordle and even more-fun Nerdle. I will do some schoolwork this week, of my choosing and on my schedule, because that feels good, too.

Me and my favorite playmates

As teachers with a seasonal schedule that includes breaks every few months, it’s easy to fall into the trap of “I’ll relax once (X).” But, “X” is always replaced with another “X.” We stretch ourselves tight with overwork during the semester because relief seems just around the corner on the calendar.

But as I’ve experienced, that rubber band of overwork springs back hard. As a result of the snap-back, the break I dreamed of could easily amount to curling up on the couch in a ball of protection, dreading the return to work. Again, not what I’m going for.

Investing time in play throughout the school year (and not just on breaks) is a goal for this serious teacher. I’m always looking for ideas – What do you do for play?

The post It’s Play Time for Teacher appeared first on My Love of Learning.

play, spring break, Write6x6

It’s Play Time for Teacher

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I am the youngest of four children. Therefore, it was my birthright to become a clown, the fun one, a good kind of “player.” Instead, I became a teacher. And, for me, this role brought all the attendant expectations: long days, not-a-few sleepless nights, regular coffee-fueled thrusts towards pedagogical glory.

So, it should come as no surprise that when I see a week of spring break sprawled out in front of me, I start to calculate how much I can accomplish in order to get caught up at work (as if such an elusive state actually exists). But then, that baby-in-the-family in me reaches out from the deep recesses to wave her tiny finger and say, “Not so fast, Missy!”

As a psychologist, I know the importance of play. But, I constantly have to remind myself that all work and no play actually makes Dr. Duggan a tightly-wound shell of a human. Not exactly what I’m going for in life.

Before we went on break, I asked my Health Psychology students about what they do for play. One of them immediately popped up with, “Define play!” (I love these people!) According to Merriam-Webster, to play is to “engage in activity for enjoyment and recreation rather than a serious or practical purpose.”

It turns out, students and teachers alike can get caught up into cycles of overwork. Our talk about play in class quickly morphed into a discussion of “Who the hell has time?” However, one of my students mentioned giving and getting tattoos as a form of recreation. Another student said playing with her dog is her go-to for enjoyment. The conversation moved into other forms of play, such as watching TV, playing video games, and hanging out with friends.

My students inspire me, and so far my break is off to a good start. Yesterday I jogged around the park with my friends and went out for a nice breakfast after. Today, I read (for pleasure) and got a foot massage. And then there’s my daily Wordle and even more-fun Nerdle. I will do some schoolwork this week, of my choosing and on my schedule, because that feels good, too.

Me and my favorite playmates

As teachers with a seasonal schedule that includes breaks every few months, it’s easy to fall into the trap of “I’ll relax once (X).” But, “X” is always replaced with another “X.” We stretch ourselves tight with overwork during the semester because relief seems just around the corner on the calendar.

But as I’ve experienced, that rubber band of overwork springs back hard. As a result of the snap-back, the break I dreamed of could easily amount to curling up on the couch in a ball of protection, dreading the return to work. Again, not what I’m going for.

Investing time in play throughout the school year (and not just on breaks) is a goal for this serious teacher. I’m always looking for ideas – What do you do for play?

The post It’s Play Time for Teacher appeared first on My Love of Learning.

play, spring break, Write6x6

It’s Play Time for Teacher

Leave a comment

I am the youngest of four children. Therefore, it was my birthright to become a clown, the fun one, a good kind of “player.” Instead, I became a teacher. And, for me, this role brought all the attendant expectations: long days, not-a-few sleepless nights, regular coffee-fueled thrusts towards pedagogical glory.

So, it should come as no surprise that when I see a week of spring break sprawled out in front of me, I start to calculate how much I can accomplish in order to get caught up at work (as if such an elusive state actually exists). But then, that baby-in-the-family in me reaches out from the deep recesses to wave her tiny finger and say, “Not so fast, Missy!”

As a psychologist, I know the importance of play. But, I constantly have to remind myself that all work and no play actually makes Dr. Duggan a tightly-wound shell of a human. Not exactly what I’m going for in life.

Before we went on break, I asked my Health Psychology students about what they do for play. One of them immediately popped up with, “Define play!” (I love these people!) According to Merriam-Webster, to play is to “engage in activity for enjoyment and recreation rather than a serious or practical purpose.”

It turns out, students and teachers alike can get caught up into cycles of overwork. Our talk about play in class quickly morphed into a discussion of “Who the hell has time?” However, one of my students mentioned giving and getting tattoos as a form of recreation. Another student said playing with her dog is her go-to for enjoyment. The conversation moved into other forms of play, such as watching TV, playing video games, and hanging out with friends.

My students inspire me, and so far my break is off to a good start. Yesterday I jogged around the park with my friends and went out for a nice breakfast after. Today, I read (for pleasure) and got a foot massage. And then there’s my daily Wordle and even more-fun Nerdle. I will do some schoolwork this week, of my choosing and on my schedule, because that feels good, too.

Me and my favorite playmates

As teachers with a seasonal schedule that includes breaks every few months, it’s easy to fall into the trap of “I’ll relax once (X).” But, “X” is always replaced with another “X.” We stretch ourselves tight with overwork during the semester because relief seems just around the corner on the calendar.

But as I’ve experienced, that rubber band of overwork springs back hard. As a result of the snap-back, the break I dreamed of could easily amount to curling up on the couch in a ball of protection, dreading the return to work. Again, not what I’m going for.

Investing time in play throughout the school year (and not just on breaks) is a goal for this serious teacher. I’m always looking for ideas – What do you do for play?

The post It’s Play Time for Teacher appeared first on My Love of Learning.

Write6x6

Breathing My Way into the Classroom

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I once lived next door to a woman named Elsie who was a glider. I don’t mean a hang-glider or a supermodel on a runway. Rather, her general mode of getting around in the world was slow and smooth. Each footfall was steady, her arms gently swaying as she walked.

Me, I am more of a scurrier. I always seem to be a step behind where I want to be at any moment. (One night, I caught myself literally running into bed.) So, I am jealous of Elsie’s cadence, her here-and-now presence – especially when I am walking sprinting into my classroom.

Picture my typical classroom entry: I fling myself through the door to start class. I’m pulling down the screen and tapping my fingers as the computer takes its sweet-a** time to wake up. I’m arranging the day’s materials while mentally rehearsing how the lesson will go down. At times, I’m breathless.

I really should provide popcorn for my students as they watch this weekly show.

Okay, maybe it’s not all that bad, but earlier this semester I had the sense that my Health Psychology class would be improved if I was more at-peace as I deliver my opening greeting. If I were more emotionally available to my students before class. If I modeled the very same self-regulation I encourage in them.

In the book The Spark of Learning, psychologist Sarah Rose Cavanagh supports this notion. Cavanagh advocates for teaching with mindfulness, or what she refers to as “a continual calling back to the present moment.”  She also writes about presenting a sense of immediacy with students – showing I am interested in them, the subject, and the process of learning. None of this can occur if I am off kilter from minute one.

To change the way I typically fly into the room, I decided to set aside 15 minutes before each class for my own meditation and/or breath work. My class starts at 2:30, so I blocked off 2:00-2:15 as a repeating commitment on my calendar. I created a special meditation-do-not-disturb sign as a stiff arm to all door knockers. I face my chair away from my office window so I don’t have to worry about anyone seeing me in all my meditation glory.

Author next to her do not disturb sign

Headspace is my meditation app of choice, but simply doing diaphragmatic breathing or box breathing works just as well. The point is to quiet the mind, soothe the stress response system, and tether to the present moment before greeting my students. To release the relentless chatter of the to-do list playing on an endless loop.

And so far it is working! I feel more relaxed as I start class now. I am able to enjoy initial class conversations with increased focus on the people in front of me. I sense that I am connecting better with my students. It also helps that I shared what I am doing with my students since breathing and meditation are topics in this particular course – a form of what Cavanagh refers to as metainstructing.

I may never naturally glide like Elsie, but before each class I can center myself through meditation like a yogi-boss!

The post Breathing My Way into the Classroom appeared first on My Love of Learning.

Write6x6

Breathing My Way into the Classroom

Leave a comment

I once lived next door to a woman named Elsie who was a glider. I don’t mean a hang-glider or a supermodel on a runway. Rather, her general mode of getting around in the world was slow and smooth. Each footfall was steady, her arms gently swaying as she walked.

Me, I am more of a scurrier. I always seem to be a step behind where I want to be at any moment. (One night, I caught myself literally running into bed.) So, I am jealous of Elsie’s cadence, her here-and-now presence – especially when I am walking sprinting into my classroom.

Picture my typical classroom entry: I fling myself through the door to start class. I’m pulling down the screen and tapping my fingers as the computer takes its sweet-a** time to wake up. I’m arranging the day’s materials while mentally rehearsing how the lesson will go down. At times, I’m breathless.

I really should provide popcorn for my students as they watch this weekly show.

Okay, maybe it’s not all that bad, but earlier this semester I had the sense that my Health Psychology class would be improved if I was more at-peace as I deliver my opening greeting. If I were more emotionally available to my students before class. If I modeled the very same self-regulation I encourage in them.

In the book The Spark of Learning, psychologist Sarah Rose Cavanagh supports this notion. Cavanagh advocates for teaching with mindfulness, or what she refers to as “a continual calling back to the present moment.”  She also writes about presenting a sense of immediacy with students – showing I am interested in them, the subject, and the process of learning. None of this can occur if I am off kilter from minute one.

To change the way I typically fly into the room, I decided to set aside 15 minutes before each class for my own meditation and/or breath work. My class starts at 2:30, so I blocked off 2:00-2:15 as a repeating commitment on my calendar. I created a special meditation-do-not-disturb sign as a stiff arm to all door knockers. I face my chair away from my office window so I don’t have to worry about anyone seeing me in all my meditation glory.

Author next to her do not disturb sign

Headspace is my meditation app of choice, but simply doing diaphragmatic breathing or box breathing works just as well. The point is to quiet the mind, soothe the stress response system, and tether to the present moment before greeting my students. To release the relentless chatter of the to-do list playing on an endless loop.

And so far it is working! I feel more relaxed as I start class now. I am able to enjoy initial class conversations with increased focus on the people in front of me. I sense that I am connecting better with my students. It also helps that I shared what I am doing with my students since breathing and meditation are topics in this particular course – a form of what Cavanagh refers to as metainstructing.

I may never naturally glide like Elsie, but before each class I can center myself through meditation like a yogi-boss!

The post Breathing My Way into the Classroom appeared first on My Love of Learning.

Write6x6

Breathing My Way into the Classroom

Leave a comment

I once lived next door to a woman named Elsie who was a glider. I don’t mean a hang-glider or a supermodel on a runway. Rather, her general mode of getting around in the world was slow and smooth. Each footfall was steady, her arms gently swaying as she walked.

Me, I am more of a scurrier. I always seem to be a step behind where I want to be at any moment. (One night, I caught myself literally running into bed.) So, I am jealous of Elsie’s cadence, her here-and-now presence – especially when I am walking sprinting into my classroom.

Picture my typical classroom entry: I fling myself through the door to start class. I’m pulling down the screen and tapping my fingers as the computer takes its sweet-a** time to wake up. I’m arranging the day’s materials while mentally rehearsing how the lesson will go down. At times, I’m breathless.

I really should provide popcorn for my students as they watch this weekly show.

Okay, maybe it’s not all that bad, but earlier this semester I had the sense that my Health Psychology class would be improved if I was more at-peace as I deliver my opening greeting. If I were more emotionally available to my students before class. If I modeled the very same self-regulation I encourage in them.

In the book The Spark of Learning, psychologist Sarah Rose Cavanagh supports this notion. Cavanagh advocates for teaching with mindfulness, or what she refers to as “a continual calling back to the present moment.”  She also writes about presenting a sense of immediacy with students – showing I am interested in them, the subject, and the process of learning. None of this can occur if I am off kilter from minute one.

To change the way I typically fly into the room, I decided to set aside 15 minutes before each class for my own meditation and/or breath work. My class starts at 2:30, so I blocked off 2:00-2:15 as a repeating commitment on my calendar. I created a special meditation-do-not-disturb sign as a stiff arm to all door knockers. I face my chair away from my office window so I don’t have to worry about anyone seeing me in all my meditation glory.

Author next to her do not disturb sign

Headspace is my meditation app of choice, but simply doing diaphragmatic breathing or box breathing works just as well. The point is to quiet the mind, soothe the stress response system, and tether to the present moment before greeting my students. To release the relentless chatter of the to-do list playing on an endless loop.

And so far it is working! I feel more relaxed as I start class now. I am able to enjoy initial class conversations with increased focus on the people in front of me. I sense that I am connecting better with my students. It also helps that I shared what I am doing with my students since breathing and meditation are topics in this particular course – a form of what Cavanagh refers to as metainstructing.

I may never naturally glide like Elsie, but before each class I can center myself through meditation like a yogi-boss!

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