Day 120: Tech Detox

What might a tech detox look like for you?

This weekend, my WiFi went out. And our data was maxed out. And suddenly I realized, I had no access to the internet. No falling onto the couch after kid bedtime to watch HBO. No catching up on the news. No streaming the retreat I had planned or participating in the Yoga with Adriene challenge.

I generally practice and preach moderation with my tech use, but this was true a blackout moment. I took it one step further and turned my phone OFF. And while unnerving, it was also wonderful. There was nowhere else to go and nowhere else to be (mentally).

It inspired me to try on a tech detox for the month of February (yes, an intentionally short month). For me, this means:

*no streaming shows

*no scrolling

*no carrying my phone all over the house with me

*turning my phone completely for chunks of time during the day.

What might a tech detox look like for you?

Day 119: Balancing the Negativity Bias

In my next loop with fifth graders, we will be exploring our negativity bias. This is the tendency of the brain to perseverate over the hard moments and miss/forget about the pleasant.

To be clear, I think it's an unhelpful refrain that when things are hard, we should just try to look on the bright side. With mindfulness, it is more about expanding awareness than negating one with the other. This is hard AND there's so much beauty and goodness. It's not our job to try and talk ourselves out of feeling crummy by pretending things are good. Instead, what happens if we practice, each day, really taking stock of all that goodness? (don't worry, your brain will happily recall all the hard ones without your effort). That effort allows us to live a little closer to the truth.

This week, collect and savor the goodness.

Day 118: What's the NEED here?

Photo by Alexis Fauvet on Unsplash

When we are in difficult conversations, it is easy to get defensive or critical. Our hackles go up, and we want to make sure we protect ourselves. It's primal. It's easier to see this in students, and often harder to see it in ourselves.

One way to short circuit this reaction is to start practicing asking, "What do I need?" and "What do they need?"

When someone is coming at us, "What do they need?" might point us to the fact that they need space, appreciation, comfort, to be heard, help, choice, etc. There's a great list of human needs on this NVC page. We can ask ourselves the same question. Is it that I'm needing a feeling of control, and the moment feels out of control?

I find it helpful to practice this with sticky moments that I perseverate over. It can help take the charge out of it and make it less personal.

Day 117: The Polar Bear Effect

"But when I try to not think about it, I can't not think about it!" - astute 6th grader.

This truth my friend pointed to actually has a name. It's called, "the polar bear effect." If you try not to think of a polar bear, for example, some part of your mind has to keep thinking about it to keep you NOT thinking about it.

One of the biggest misconceptions about mindfulness is that we are trying to force thoughts away. Clear the mind completely. Instead, it may be more helpful to understand the practice as creating space so we can watch our thoughts get kicked up and settle. We may be swept away in the windstorm for a moment (or hours), but eventually we will open back up and see that it just happened.

This week, perhaps play with noticing when you are "in" the thought and when you can see that it happened. Rather than fighting against having the thought (doesn't work), start noticing it as one of other thoughts, feelings, sensations in the world. Give it slightly less power.

Photo by Hans-Jurgen Mager on Unsplash

Day 116: Eye Contact

Photo by Dirk van Wolferen on Unsplash

Sometimes, especially when I am feeling hurried, I notice I stop making eye contact with people as much. Even if I am talking to them, my eyes may be somewhere else.

This week, experiment with intentionally making eye contact with people. Notice what it is like to fully focus your seeing on that person. Does it slow you down? Give you the heebie jeebies?

Day 115: Celebrate the Mundane Moments

Photo by Phil Desforges on Unsplash

Around this time of year, we often think about gratitude. A recent email from Jay Michaelson reminded me that we can also reflect on our struggles as a way of having perspective and even more deeply appreciating the now.

Indeed, we can use our past struggles as ways of celebrating the mundane. The normal. The absence of...as it may be.

For me, while I had a terrible night of sleep last night (my daughters' keep bringing home hacking sleep-interrupting colds), I remember having to exist like this every day back in the newborn phase of their lives. And I really do feel even more grateful that this is temporary.

Perhaps we remember our holidays in a more locked-down scenario so we can fully appreciate reopening our homes (if we have chosen to do so). Being so aware of the potential of illness, if we are feeling well, we can really savor our moment of health. Whatever it is for you, perhaps take a moment to celebrate the simplicity of the not-terrible in your right now.

Day 114: Stop "Shoulding" All Over Yourself

Photo by Giulia Bertelli on Unsplash

One of my favorite pieces of advice I was given by a mindfulness teacher was to, "Stop shoulding all over yourself." This year, above any other year, feels like a time to really practice this.

I have been reading more and more articles coming out about the mental health and relational struggles that both educators and young people are facing this year. I have been seeing it within our walls.

What if, instead of believing we as educators "should" be able to handle this better, or our students "should" be behaving differently/performing better/acting less bananas, we just deeply acknowledged that things are hard. Let go of the "should." The only thing that is true is what is.

What if the myriad of ways we have each responded are actually totally reasonable and natural given the conditions of a global pandemic, a two year long disruption to our "normal" with no end in sight, not to mention our own personal struggles?

And from that acknowledgement, instead of pretending and wishing and "shoulding" things to be different, how do we treat ourselves? How do we respond to one another?

Day 113: Those sunrises!

I don't know if you've caught them, but the sunrises have been incredible this week. One of the silver linings to this time of year is that I do get to see the sun come up every day.

My invitation is to really notice the sky on your commute. Take in its expansiveness, the texture and colors. Rest in the Grandness.

Day 112: A Case of the "I don't wannas"

My four-year-old daughter has had an intense case of the "I don't wannas" when it comes to school lately. As someone who comes in and out of those, I can relate. The "I don't wannas" often come from anticipating overwhelm that will happen later. It is bred from fear of the hardness or struggle.

In this week's 10% Happier Work Life Challenge, Matthew Hepburn invites us to try out a "Just Right Now" mentality. He talks about how we try to live a whole day (or weeks, or months), in a single moment, and of course that's overwhelming. What if, when we woke up in the morning, we only tried to take in the right now? Can I do right now? And then now? And then now?

Instead of trying to do the whole day at once, play with chunking it into moments.

Now this moment, I can do.

Day Begin Again

Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash

I’ve been away from this blog since the pandemic brought us all to a screeching halt in the Spring of 2020. It has been over a year and a half since it was updated, and now it is time to begin again. I had set the goal of 180 Days of reflecting on my teaching using mindfulness as the lens, and I return to that goal now.

So I begin again.

The narrator drops us abruptly into a new scene: my context is now singularly a small middle school in Maine, where I serve as the Mindfulness Director, under the support of WholeSchool Mindfulness.

This is my second year in this role. But today was my first day as the MD on this particular day. The day before a long weekend.

As I transition out of the school day, I rely on the beauty of New England fall… the yellowing leaves, hushing and falling, to remind me to return to this moment. As my mind continues to grapple with the residue of the school day, filled with uncertainties and no easy answers, I come back to the leaves and refind myself in this moment. Again. And again. And again.

Day: Mindfulness in the Time of Coronavirus

Cross-sharing this post from my deep dive in response to our times and personal practice in this moment…

Photo by Marco Ceschi on Unsplash

While we have been watching the coronavirus creep ever-closer to Maine in the last few weeks, it wasn’t until this weekend that it really landed for me. The reality of our moment is so surreal that it was hard to wrap my head around it until my school closed for two weeks, daycare closed, a curfew was issued in my town, and the number of local confirmed cases started skyrocketing by the day. My family is in self quarantine after a case was confirmed in the school where I have been working, and many of my closest friends have likewise opted to hunker down in their homes (a privilege not all are afforded).

My mind has met this moment with waves of panic, denial, uncertainty, acceptance, horror, and macabre humor, sometimes one after the next. I have met with this experience by pushing it away with Netflix and dark chocolate peanut butter cups, embracing it fully in moments of compassionate awareness, and everywhere in between. While mindfulness invites us to turn towards the experience, as one of my favorite teachers reminded us at our virtual community sit last night, it is perfectly fine to take a break and turn away. To distract and distance. Sometimes we can use our mindfulness to see that we need a break from our mindfulness.

And when we are ready to turn towards, can we do so with a softened gaze?

There has been an incredible outpouring of resource sharing from free and reduced cost online yoga and mindfulness streaming. I am grateful that my inbox is overflowing with posts, recommendations, and invitations. AND, suddenly being thrust into the role of Stay-At-Home mom has been a difficult transition, and made it hard for me to engage in these offerings.

And yet, the practice remains…

I gently name the pain: “I am suffering” as the anxiety/panic/fear arises. No explanation, no trying to figure it out or rationalize it away, I just name that reality.

I clarify for myself, again and again, what is in and out of my control. I take charge of that which is within, and cede that which is outside.

I take note of the birds in flight, and the wind blowing against my face, and the light greenery that is reemerging as my toddler and I walk around the block.

I snuggle her extra close throughout the day, grateful for this connection and her health.

We practice Cosmic Kids Yoga videos together (Smiling Mind and Stop, Breathe, & Think are great options to practice with your older kiddos at home).

I use guided resources on Insight Timer when I wake up in the middle of the night.

I use my spotty internet connection to join in Zoom-facilitated community (temporarily free for educators) with my local sitting group and the wider Mindful Schools community.

I feel a deep awareness of our interconnected reality. I send love out to all of those who suffer.

I feel grateful that we have resources within our family and local community to withstand this challenge, and I am actively looking for ways to continue to offer concrete support.

I read and reread Lynn Ungar’s poem:

Pandemic

What if you thought of it
as the Jews consider the Sabbath—
the most sacred of times?
Cease from travel.
Cease from buying and selling.
Give up, just for now,
on trying to make the world
different than it is.
Sing. Pray. Touch only those
to whom you commit your life.
Center down.
 
And when your body has become still,
reach out with your heart.
Know that we are connected
in ways that are terrifying and beautiful.
(You could hardly deny it now.)
Know that our lives
are in one another’s hands.
(Surely, that has come clear.)
Do not reach out your hands.
Reach out your heart.
Reach out your words.
Reach out all the tendrils
of compassion that move, invisibly,
where we cannot touch.
 
Promise this world your love–
for better or for worse,
in sickness and in health,
so long as we all shall live.

Day 111: Moment-to-Moment

Maybe not the most compassionate phrasing, but it sure does it get to the heart of the way our minds function. When we think about our day, we easily remember and hold onto those difficult moments. Those challenging interactions. Those crappy experiences. The term for this is negativity bias, and it takes real effort to get our minds to see our reality with clarity.

When we break our day down, minute-by-minute, we suddenly realize much of our day actually passes that is emotionally neutral, or even pleasant.

Today, I woke up angry because snow was thickly falling outside my window, and was predicted to continue to fall for the rest of the day, and yet… no snow day. IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN A DANG SNOW DAY. I — a skittish driver in the best of times— was terrified about driving on the unplowed roads through piles of snow. As I drove down the road, I watched my mind kick up all the possible horrible scenarios of me sliding off the road, cars sliding into me, me sliding into cars, etc. And then, I caught myself. And I asked, “what is actually happening right now?” The answer was: I was driving 12 miles/hour down the road without another car in sight. And I kept asking myself that, “what about now?” I’m getting on the highway with a lot of other cars, but we are all going about 30 miles/hour. And no one is sliding into me. And I’m not sliding into anyone.” What was actually happening was much different than my fears. What was actually happening, though unnerving, was fine. And even though it was most definitely not a snow day (and should have been), many of the tiny moments that made up even the rest of the day were enjoyable, or at least uncharged.

The more we can ask ourselves, “yeah, but what’s actually happening RIGHT NOW?” the more we can see that some of those bigger pains that we carry and obsess over are small in comparison to the rest of the day, (or even the hour). The more we can observe the truth of our day, which is filled with micro-moments of ease.

Day 110: Impulse Observation

Photo by AbsolutVision on Unsplash

This week, our lesson at the middle school has been around impulses and impulsivity, based in the “Mindful Schools Curriculum for Adolescents.” I love putting students in the driver’s seat of this one, observing their own impulses and whether or not they respond impulsively to them while engaged in class discussion and doing mindfulness practice.

As teachers, we are so often helping our students manage their impulses. Without thinking, kids are often blurting out, fidgeting, or being disruptive without even realizing they are doing it, let alone choosing to do it. We can ask them to be mindful—nonjudgemental but curious— about when these impulses arise, and then slow down rather than automatically react.

In this exercise, we defined “impulse” and what it means to be impulsive. Then, I gave students sticky notes to tally when they notice impulses arise when we were in discussion or mindfulness practice. After simply observing, we tried adding a, “pause, breathe, relax” and then “choose,” to slow ourselves down.

When I used to teach middle school, I would do this exercise as a behavior awareness strategy with individuals in my class as a way of helping them recognize impulses and start cultivating some self regulation on their own. We would work together to see if they could reduce the number of tally marks from class to class. I remember the satisfaction of watching one of these students open his mouth, close it, and record the tally on his page with pride.

The more we can empower students to self regulate rather than taking that on our own shoulders, the simpler our jobs become, and the more effective

Day 109: Mindful Behavior Management

Photo by Andre Tan on Unsplash

Last week I had to have formal meetings with two fifth graders and the principal about their behavior towards another student. The lack of kindness they have been displaying towards this other student has made it really tempting to come down hard on them and punish for the pain they’ve caused. But I had to stop and ask myself, “What do I really want from whatever action I take?”

Is my goal to make those girls feel badly? Do I want them to continue the behavior in a more sneaky way? Or is my goal to help them develop some empathy and change their behavior? The decisions I made in that meeting— how I addressed them, what I asked of them—would look totally different depending on what my answer to that question was AND what I knew about the girls.

Knowing both of these young ladies had defensive and escalating tendencies, we began the meeting by telling them they weren’t in trouble, but we were making a plan to figure out how to support them in being strong, kind leaders in their class. You could hear the strain in the voice of one, and the eruption of giggles from the other, as indicators that they were wildly uncomfortable in this formal setting. But disarming them from the beginning, in the context of a serious principal-observed meeting, allowed them to engage in a conversation I had been unable to have with them in passing in the middle of PE or the two minutes at the end of class.

We engaged them in the process of naming behaviors that were unkind and those that were kind and mature, and then made a plan to have them demonstrate those behaviors. My sense was that everyone walked away feeling empowered for how the meetings went. But it took some careful, intentional moves to be heard by these ladies.

I invite you to consider one behavior pattern that you are witnessing that does not seem to be changing based on your responses. Then, reflect on the kid and on what you really want to have happen. The dividends will likely be worth it.

Day 108: Wondering about the "Ugh"

Photo by Markos Mant on Unsplash

The Monday after break, I started a new mindfulness program at a middle school in which I teach eleven 30-minute lessons a week about mindfulness. The fifth and sixth grade groups were all adorably attentive and respectful, and then I walked into an eighth grade classroom, who happened to have a sub that day.

“Uuughhhh….mindfulness?” one boy from the back said, and he was echoed by several of his classmates. And another, “so boring…”

Uh-oh.

As I unpacked my things, I tried to figure out how to respond. Do I ignore it and charge on through? Do I try to make it extra interesting or entertaining?

I took a breath and began, “When I just came in, I heard a number of you groan. Tell me about that.”

There was a moment of silence, and then hands shot up,

“It’s just so boring.”

“It doesn’t seem to have anything to do with us.”

“It’s, like, about watching sunsets and stuff…so what?”

“One time last year in seventh grade we just had to, like, listen to this recording and they didn’t even say why.”

Ah.

"So it sounds like it feels pretty irrelevant and boring to you all, is that true?” I tried. Heads nod. “Cool, I can see why you would react that way. Here’s what it means to me…” and they listened.

Had I chosen to ignore, or even talk up mindfulness, I think I would have emerged from that room defeated. Giving space for these students to air these grievances, and feel heard, opened the door to me building understanding about what they had experienced before, and considering how I might approach it this time around.

Mindfulness invites us to come from a place of true curiosity, without defensiveness or the need to fix. It gives us space to learn and others a chance to fully express themselves. So the next time a student groans and the prospect of whatever it might be, try asking, “What’s that about?”

Day 107: What would make this day awesome?

Photo by Douglas Bagg on Unsplash

(This post has been sitting in my draft box for weeks, as I scramble just get back into a routine after break. Now, mocha in hand, I think I’m ready.)

This morning I woke up and laid in bed for an extra 10 minutes. I wasn’t ready to get out yet, and I had the impending sense of dread that comes from each return from break. So I took a moment to acknowledge that I just didn’t want to do it. And then I asked myself, given that truth, “What would make this day awesome?” What could I do to enjoy? Which parts could feel good to me?

That morning, I put Ovaltine in my coffee and brought it to school.

I joked around with some of my students first thing.

I planned some really fun lessons to come back to with elements I knew I would enjoy.

And it turned out, there were moments of awesomeness. I just had to be open to creating and seeing them.

Day 106: T'was the night before break...

Photo by Raul Petri on Unsplash

…and all through the halls, all the children were stirring, in fact, bouncing off the walls.

The temptation, I know for myself at least, is just to throw in the towel and limp to the finish line. But there is another way.

And it involves WORK. What if we decided we were going to make these last few days as fun as possible, for ourselves and our students? What if we injected more movement breaks, more games, more crafts, and more fun, knowing that doing anything too academic often just ends in disaster?

It’s not giving up. It’s acknowledging the reality of where everyone is and being responsive to that.

And then, may we offer ourselves the possibility that we, too, may find moments of joy amidst the chaos. May we do the work to love/craft/hug/play a little harder.

Enjoy it. I dare you.

Day 105: Begin Again

Photo by Matthew Sleeper on Unsplash

My last period of my Tuesday is my hardest class. I often leave Tuesdays feeling at a loss for how to help that group succeed. But each Tuesday afternoon at 2:10 (My class before ends at 2:08. Ahem.), I walk into their room and say, “We are not going to dwell on last week, and we are going to focus on this week.”

Of course, it is helpful to remember some of what students struggled with and ways I can frame the class so that we are more successful. But I have to let go of any of my frustrations that may have boiled over the week before. I have to see them anew to see clearly what is happening this week. This week, two of my boys who have been most out of control in the past were responsive and eve helpful. Notably, they were two of the students i had spent lunch with the week before.

One of the attitudes of mindfulness, as defined by MBSR (Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction) is Beginner’s Mind. May we continue to approach our students in this way so that we can give them the space to grow, to make mistakes, and to try again.

Day 104: What inspires you?

Photo by Mohammad Metri on Unsplash

Last week, I had my first meeting as an Online Course Guide for Mindful Schools. The getting-to-know you question was, “What has inspired you lately?” I reflected on a daylong silent retreat I had just attended and the wisdom shared there by one of my teachers (see Day 102).

Sunday morning, as I was listening to Krista Tippet interview the poet David Whyte for her podcast On Being, I reflected on how these inputs are so critical to continuing to show up in all aspects of my life aligned with my values. There are bigger questions and bigger ideas than, “What games should we play the week before winter break so nobody kills anyone else?” that actually guide and support those smaller questions.

These inspirational inputs into my life— meditation teachers, podcasts, poets, books, etc.— help me show up in my role as a teacher more authentically. They help me keep the forest in mind as I am wrestling with the trees. How do I want to show up, regardless of what chaos the children bring?

To answer that, I need constant reminders. I need inspiration.

So, what inspires you lately? Who are your teachers and how do they help you align with your core truth?

Day 103: I am good.

I had one of those days that had 45 minutes of it that made me feel like the worst teacher. My class was unresponsive to my call-and-responses, they would not stop talking over directions, and they would not stop yelling at each other. We ended up ending class early and completing reflections on what we would do next time so that we could have a successful class. It was my last period, so of course it mentally eclipsed the whole rest of the day which was, on the whole, pleasant and enjoyable. Noteworthy was that it was pleasant and enjoyable with another class that I have found challenging in the past. But I couldn’t see that. I could just see FAILURE.

I wrote to the principal and instructional guide and said, “I need help.” And I definitely do want help. But what I really wanted was someone to assure me that I am good. That my struggles with this class do not mean I am a failure or a bad person.

Last night, I was meditating with a teacher who reminded us that we can see moments when we make mistakes from a compassionate place. That we can remember our own goodness even while we own our difficulties and missteps. This, in fact, is key to being able to face those errors effectively. To learn. To grow. And to experiencing contentment.

Timely.

So, tonight, I remind myself that I don’t need my principal to tell me I am good. I can remind myself. I can evoke this quality of mind to look at my struggles. And perhaps, I will suffer just a little less.

(Also, as I related all this to my husband, he said, “Yeah…and… it’s fifth grade gym.”)