THE VIRTUAL AUTHOR

Two years ago, it was the hopeful faces online that kept me going. 

When my entire speaking schedule in Spring 2018 was cancelled by my breast cancer diagnosis and treatment, I went virtual instead.  A screen became my audience. Skype replaced the cafeteria stage.

To keep things simple, I donated the virtual visits.  Schools knew that if my hair fell out from chemo…or if I had an unexpected doctor’s appointment…or if I just wasn’t up to talking—their visit wouldn’t happen.  Everything was “subject to change without notice.”  They were okay with that.
 
Fortunately, my hair stayed intact, and the virtual visits saved my sanity.  They gave me a schedule and a reason to get up every day.  Kids wore pink t-shirts.  They held up signs of hope and encouragement.  They made me believe that life would get better someday—and it did. 

One of the biggest surprises was the realization that I could still reach readers through a screen.  With a little practice and creativity, it was possible to keep being the interactive, thoughtful (and slightly random) author/presenter that I am. 

Then came Spring 2020 and the COVID outbreak demolished everything again.  I’ll admit that it felt like an awful kind of déjà vu.

But this time it wasn’t just me sitting at home worrying that I might die from a dread disease – it was the kids too.   I spread the word that I would donate virtual visits to any school group anywhere in April and May. 

I’ll never forget those first Zooms and Google Meets. Kids joined from living rooms, unfinished attics, closets, stairwells, and kitchen tables.  They appeared with homemade slime, family pets, and screaming siblings.  Some kids floated in blue galaxies or tropical forest backgrounds.  Others had their family seated around them like a solemn portrait.

Despite the challenges, these impromptu visits actually worked.  (A ton of credit goes to the parents, librarians, and teachers who made them happen.)  I was able to chat with kids about books and brainstorm characters with them. Virtual classes “toured” my office. We shared what we were going through and the various ways we were coping.  As I’d discovered two years earlier, there is something to be said for being there for each other in tough times. 

And as the school year starts at home again for many kids, I’m determined to keep stretching the virtual learning limits: Can we compose poetry on Zoom? Can we use our closets/attics/kitchens for writing inspiration? Can we create fictional characters from shoes?  Can we build stuff onscreen? (Tetrahedron pyramids for All of the Above? Mini-sculptures for The Seventh Most Important Thing?)

I believe that creativity and joy, even the virtual kind, will keep us going. 

I’m proof of that.

Teachers, librarians, and parents: If you are interested in finding out more about my 2020-21 virtual programs (some free and some fee-based) for your students, please check them out on my website or reach out to me at shelleyvisits@yahoo.com.

In Praise of School Janitors

It is probably no secret that I have a special place in my heart for school janitors. 

I can name the first one I ever met: Mr. Boder at Hanna Elementary, where I attended school as a child.  He was a regal, soft-spoken man with iron-gray hair and (I seem to recall) a slight English accent.  In another place or time, he might have been the perfect butler for a queen. 

Later on, when I started my first job in education, my aunt (who was a lifelong teacher) gave me one piece of advice: always make friends with the school custodians. “Trust me,” she said. “They will matter a heck of a lot more than your principal.”  

Sure enough, as I struggled through my first year of teaching fourth grade—stressed and constantly sick—it was Janitor Steve and his wife who showed up at my apartment one afternoon with an enormous pot of homemade pasta to keep me alive.

(In fact, Steve kept all of us going as teachers. He was our daily sounding-board—the keeper of our rants and our sanity.)

As a traveling author now, I meet janitors far more often than I meet principals.  I’ve met janitors who write poetry and ones who impersonate Elvis.  Janitors have read my books and hauled our equipment through wind and rain and snow—and done emergency “clean-ups in aisle 5” during writing workshops (no explanation needed!) 

It’s no coincidence that janitors appear as characters in three of my seven books:  There’s Mr. Joe who protects the students and their project from disaster in All of the Above, mysterious Mr. Ulysses in my upcoming book Things Seen From Above, and of course—Mr. Hampton, the former janitor turned artist in The Seventh Most Important Thing.

So, this holiday season, let’s recognize and PRAISE the unsung angels, men and women, who clean up our schools and keep everything (including us) going each day. 

 As Mr. Hampton says about the angels in our lives: “Some are like peacocks. Others are less flashy. Like city pigeons. It all depends on the wings.” Thank an angel today.

School Success: Potlucks and Principals

As the new school year gets rolling, I’ve been thinking a lot about education in America.  Over the years, I’ve been inside a wide variety of schools as an author.  Rural, suburban, public, private, Muslim, Quaker, Catholic, rich, poor, free and incarcerated—you name it, I’ve probably seen it. 

The diversity of American education can be head-spinning. But there are a few things that seem to hold true no matter where I am:

First – just like a book…you can’t judge a school by its cover.  I’ve been in some truly impressive schools that were so decrepit on the outside, I half-expected the kids to be wearing hard hats and hazmat suits inside.  At the other end of the spectrum, I’ve seen schools with all the latest technology and designer furniture and glass atriums…and not much else going for them.

Second – I know this will sound obvious, but principals really do matter more than anything else in a school.  Good principals = good schools. Almost always.

Over the years, I’ve developed my own totally random list of what makes an excellent principal.   It does not include things like: “achieves the highest test scores.” It does include things like: knows the name of every child, smiles at kids and staff (and authors), is willing to sweep up cafeteria floors or wipe down yucky tables when necessary, knows exactly what is happening in the school on any given day, is excited about learning and conveys that excitement, participates in nearly all school events, is someone who motivates people to be better people, is a leader that everyone (from parents to custodians) respects and appreciates…

Schools that are lucky enough to have these excellent principals tend to hold onto them very tightly.  Like rare gems. They don’t let them leave or move or retire easily.   I know of one principal who still goes on his school’s eighth grade Washington, D.C. trip as a chaperone every year—although he “retired” several years ago.     

That’s the kind of dedication I’m talking about.

Third—I have a theory (completely untested) that teaching staffs who cook together, stick together.  

When I’m in a school where the teachers have pulled together a lunch potluck on a Friday—or for any special occasion, I’ve noticed that it usually isn’t a one-time event.  They cook for each other often.  They have favorite recipes and dishes that they share. They joke around with each other. They seem to genuinely like hanging out with one another as colleagues and friends.

Here is my theory: Potlucks = teamwork = school success.

Add in a dash of excellent leadership (an excellent principal) and you have a successful school.

And don’t worry too much if you don’t have a glass atrium.