Today was the second day of the ECET2MN conference, which was held at the Open World Learning (OWL) school in St. Paul. I love visiting different schools – it’s like being invited into someone else’s house, in a way. I imagine what it must be like there with tons of kids buzzing around the hallways. I got to learn and think more about trauma-informed education, something that’s been on my mind for quite a while, but I haven’t had a lot of training with it yet.

What I was reminded of is that we are steeped in trauma – it’s kind of all around us, even though we don’t see it. I spent some time talking with an old colleague I went to college with way back in the day, and he had an apt analogy to a duck swimming in the water: above water, they look graceful, but underneath, they’re kicking like hell just to stay afloat. I’d heard this analogy before, but it’d been a long time and it was nice to be reminded of it.

I facilitated colleague circles twice during the conference – hopefully I did a pretty good job; I think it went well because many of the folks in my first circle came back the second time. The issue that came up over and over was mental health – that of our students and that of ourselves. This is an issue in ECFE, in social work, in elementary schools, in secondary schools, in EL, and in administration.

Our system is not well. This much is apparent. I think we all sort of suffer in our own silent spaces, gracefully, as my colleague put it. Our students do this too, and they likely have fewer skills to help process what’s happening. It feels hopeless sometimes, especially when we fight the battles on our own without connections or opportunities to share our stories and realize: WE ARE NOT ALONE.

I miss Pedagogy and a Pint for that reason. For those who don’t know: I used to head up a little monthly group meeting to discuss things going on in our schools across the curriculum, across districts, across grades and disciplines. It helped, if only in the sense that I knew I was not alone. I don’t think I would have been able to identify how toxic my situation had become last year without being able to process with my friends at the group.

Meeting with groups of educators, even to discuss difficult topics that don’t have clear answers and may sometimes feel hopeless, gives me hope. I know we are fighting a battle that is important. I want to give hope to people fighting in different circumstances, people fighting their own battles for what’s right, because listening to their stories gives me hope. Even if it’s just hope for small victories. It’s enough, honestly, to know I’m not alone.