My husband has been working from home basically as long as I’ve been. We are lucky – we have big enough house and a yard to escape from each other. We also don’t have any children living at home, so we can spread out or be together depending on mood (mostly mine, admittedly).

When we’re “at work,” he takes our office on the ground floor of our split level and I take the kitchen with my laptop. We can close the door and both be on Zoom or Google Meets without disrupting each other.

But he’s in the office. Where I keep my desktop computer. And my text books. And various other miscellany I occassionally need to reference while I’m working. So there are times when I need to go into “his” space during the work day. And I’m in the kitchen. Where we keep the food. So he’s in “my” space now and again also.

We’ve developed a certain Zoom etiquette with each other over the past few weeks.

1. We aim our cameras away from the other person when we’re on a video call. If I’m not dressed for success, I don’t want to be in his business. And I certainly don’t want my 12 year olds having any extra distraction than usual.
2. We’re silent if the other person is on a call. He doesn’t interrupt me to ask if I know where the mayo is, and I don’t ask him to proofread an email.
3. We discuss our schedules. I know when there’s something critical in his life and he knows when I’m on with administration or students. If one of us is on a video call with coworkers, the other might pop in to say hi, but I stay away when he’s with clients and he stays away when I’m with students or administrators.
4. When the work day begins, it begins. I often say “Have a nice day” when he leaves the kitchen. He usually laughs and says “Drive carefully” or something equally eye-roll-inducing.
5. When the work day ends, it ends. We leave the computers and phones behind and try to emotionally distance ourselves from work, even though we can’t physically distance ourselves.

How do you maintain your relationship while working at home?

I barely sleep anymore. It’s a combination, I’m sure, of the lack of excitement in my days and the very vivid imagination that has me convinced that this is a zombie apocalypse instead of a pandemic.

Somewhere around dinner time every day, I look up from my laptop and notice that the day has progressed without me. The angle of the sun is different than it was when I first stuck my nose to the grindstone, and I still have plenty more to do. My days are riddled with stress. I alternately attend zoom meetings, grade papers, teach remote classes, plan for tomorrow, and send (literally billions of) emails to parents, students, case managers, guidance counselors begging for missed assignments. Even though I’m a 30 year veteran, EVERYthing has to be recreated for this quarantine situation and my days blend into a blur of multi-tasking frenzy.

Everyone needs a way to destress. Here are my new favorites:

• Reduce caffeine. That first cup sharpens my senses and makes me able to concentrate. The second cup makes me jittery and hyperproductive. Everything after that is evil.
• Socialize. Depending on your state’s current restrictions, Zoom with your sisters, have a virtual happy hour with your buddies, go for a socially distant walk with your neighbor. Everyone needs human contact, and, even if you’re currently quarantined with a dozen people, everyone needs variety in their human contact.
• Reduce alcohol. It’s a temporary solution that leads to long term problems. A glass of wine on the patio after dinner is one thing. Dulling your senses so you don’t have to think about the zombies is another.
• Calm. It’s an app that leads you through guided meditations, sleep stories, ASMR, and breathing exercises. At one point, they offered a free year for teachers. If that’s not available, anyone with the app can send you a free month (Here’s a link from my account).
• Yoga. There are a ton of free videos on YouTube to guide you through basically any level of practice. Whether you’re a beginner or an experienced practitioner, whether you want to do a 5 minute practice or a 50 minute practice, even if you want a practice for bad knees or guided for seniors, it’s easy to find what you’re looking for.

• Run. I did the Couch to 5k program last summer, at the ripe age of 54, and found it utterly life changing. The sense of accomplishment, the knowledge of my own ability to do anything I wanted, and the general improvement in my own outlook on life keep me running even now. Tough class 1st period? Go for a jog. Difficult parent meeting? Take a run. Husband taking a nap on the couch while you’re juggling dinner, laundry, and a class of 4th graders? Hit the sidewalk.
• Journal. Write down how you’re feeling (what do you think this blog is for?). Naming your emotions gives them less power over you.
• Mow the lawn. For years, my son was in charge of our lawn and gardens. In his more difficult teenage years, I wasn’t allowed to plant a plant or push the lawnmower. He wanted total control, and, happy to get that off my list, I let it go. He moved out last year, and, even though I can still occassionally persuade him to come do our lawn, I discovered that the act of pushing a lawnmower coupled with the satisfaction of a freshly mowed yard is enormously satisfying. It’s not unusual for me to mow the front yard during my prep if 3rd period was particularly difficult.

Please tell me. What’s your favorite way to destress?

I just finished the climate change unit in my middle school science classroom. I had students engage with news articles and data sets from NASA and NWS to make informed decisions about the validity of climate change claims. Then we followed up with a slide show and cloze notes to summarize everything.

I’m about to bridge the gap into a unit on alternative energy. In this unit, I used to have students form groups and research and report out about how different alternative energy sources work. Not sure how I’m going to teach that now that we’re remote. Definitely something I’m going to work on in all my free time this weekend.

To bridge the gap between what they know and what they’re about to learn, I created a quick slide show and cloze notes on how fossil fueld and alternative energy sources provide electricity. This isn’t meant to be all-encompassing, just a quick overview.

I’m offering it free along with the cloze notes on my TpT store if you’re interested.

I would love your feedback. How can I make it more useful? What would you add? What would you change?

For the decades of my teaching career, I’ve passed through myriad teacher evaluation instruments. There were the years of the checklists, years of narratives, and now we’ve had years of SGOs and SGPs. There are arguments to be made for all of these, yet I don’t think any of them actually measures the value of a teacher.

When my children were in school, I valued the teachers that held my kids to high standards and demanded excellence in their work. I valued the teachers that enabled my children to be their own best selves. I valued the teachers that helped my children engage with others and form opinions and defend them. I valued the teachers that had pretty bulletin boards and stayed after school for extra help. I valued the teachers that gave my kids a little emotional support when they were down.

Those things are immeasurable.

SGOs and SGPs and PDPs and whatever other acronym they’re going to make up and throw at us with the next iteration will never appropriately identify what it is that makes a teacher grand. You can’t measure relationships with a rubric.

Let’s talk about teacher evaluations in the Corona Era. Now that we’re at the bare bones of what education IS – teachers and students communicating together for the advancement of knowledge and skills – maybe it’s time to reevaluate how we measure the quality of a teacher.

I don’t know the right answer, but I’ve lived through several decades of the wrong answer. Leaders, please look at what’s happening now. With absolutely no training and little, if any, planning time, teachers are crushing it. Not to mention the hundreds of (viral) videos of teachers in their cars parading past their students’ houses or singing songs to remind their students of how much they care.

Find me a rubric that measures that.