“Can’t be everything for everybody” - J Cole

Written by Frank Jackson (Mr. Positive)

Prior to every takeoff, courteous flight attendants read and demonstrate important, but often overlooked safety instructions. They outline the six marked exits and proceed to communicate the worst-case scenario responsibilities for every passenger on the plane.

 “Upon the loss of cabin pressure, the panels above your seat will open, and oxygen masks will drop down. If this happens, place the mask over your nose and your mouth, and adjust it as necessary. Be sure to adjust your own mask before helping others.”

 Currently, the education plane  is two weeks into a nosedive as we struggle to deal with digital classrooms and the Rona, Miss. Rona, Corona, COVID-19 or whatever you want to call it. The oxygen masks have been deployed, literally, yet we refuse to put ours on. We can’t help but to hop onto google classroom (and all other digital platforms), ignoring the planes Wi-Fi restrictions, to recount the safety instructions for the 100+ student passengers because WE KNOW they ignored them. As we gasp for air, textbooks crash from the above overhead compartments. Our neatly placed glue sticks, journals and pencil stashes fling like knives in a tornado to the front of the plane. In the midst of the destruction, we manage to recite every word verbatim as the flight principal did. We pause, having lost track of where we are, to confirm that all of our students have their masks on and have proceeded to parachute the remaining distance to the ground. Before the last student jumps, they look at us in our eyes to ask: What were we supposed to do again? Alone and struggling to breathe, we desperately reach for our own oxygen mask but notice it has been punctured by a pair of scissors. Then, after a smooth 10 second hyperventilation our eyes open, the director yells cut and we realize the entire thing was created in our minds.

 Our experience as educators right now is similar to the emergency on the plane. Our minds have immediately shifted to the safety and well-being of our kids (rightfully so). Whether Pre-K or 12th, for 6 months, we diligently squeezed our way into our students lives. We taught them how to navigate themselves and the lives they soon will embark on, all the while attempting to impart as much academic knowledge as we can. We have pushed ourselves to the limit all year and worry that all will be undone as our kids are pushed back into their home lives indefinitely. Some of us have conjured the worst-case scenarios and are plotting CIA level plans to extract the kids from their homes and into a better life (I’ve been there). Beyond the endless streaming of Netflix and Fortnite, the Tiktoks, Takis, and of course the occasional online assignment, harsh and terrifying realities exist for our kids. But as the famous philosopher Jermaine Cole once said, “You can’t be everything for everybody”. We are not Luke Cage, Black Panther, or Storm and even they have weaknesses. Ours’ is also our biggest strength, we care.

I want to remind all of us, like flight attendants do daily: if we do not take care of ourselves, we will be unable to be everything we want to be for our kids. The same effort, attention to detail, and unmatched fight for perfection we put into our school family is required for our own lives. The oxygen will run out, our drive will get punctured, and we will ultimately be pushed out of the fight. This time away will be tough; it may very well contribute to students forgetting their annotation strategies. However, we must trust that the values and mindsets we have instilled in them have stuck. We can make ourselves available to them and their families, but we cannot put their entire well-being on our backs. Pandemic or not, it was never on any one of us to save these children or even shelter them from the harsh realities of the world. It has been and continues to be our job to educate. To educate, we must be at our best. Use this time to mend some of the holes we have put into our own oxygen tanks. Spend time with family, take daily walks, journal, have those restorative conversations with those who have hurt us. Do ALL the things we say we WOULD do if we had the time and energy. Let’s come back to our kids full, not because we have been pushed to the brink and escaped to our summer caves for hibernation. Instead, we should come back full because we used this time to become whole again. In fact, we should take some time to do the self-work to ensure our tanks never hit empty. We owe it to each child we pray about at night to take care of ourselves during this time. If we don’t, we might become the monsters we complain about.