The Book of Joy: A Reaction Paper

I sat in the passenger seat of my husband’s pickup truck, riding along the country roads in the Northern Neck on a Saturday morning, my two little dogs asleep between us on the bench seat, their scruffy hair blowing in the air conditioning. It was a hot, sunny day in late June, and we were heading to a small beach on the shore of the Potomac River, where it opens wide to the Chesapeake Bay. Outside my car window, I watched the fields, green with corn, and the wildflowers, alive with butterflies, flourish under the summer sun. It was summer break. I was beachbound. 

And I was crying. 

Despite my situation seeming so pleasant–even idyllic, I felt pretty miserable. My inner experience was completely incongruent with my outer experience. I felt so stressed and anxious about the upcoming school year and all I would have to learn and change and do to prepare, much less be effective (not to mention safe), in the face of a global pandemic, that I was struggling to enjoy the present moment. My worries and uncertainties about the future were stealing any present peace I might have hoped to enjoy.

Joy Littles on the beach BQS
Nacho (left) and Soda (right), AKA The Littles, lounging on the beach later that day.

Around the same time as the situation described above, I began participating in a book group begun at my school. The group, which focused on the Dalai Lama, Archbishop Desmond Tutu, and Douglas Abrams’s The Book of Joy, could not have been better timed for me, both professionally and personally–especially since my professional life and my personal life often seem to bleed into each other.

On page 88 of the book, we read that “…so much is determined by our own perception.” My perception of the pandemic and how it would affect me at work and at home come August was an extremely negative one–one that did not serve me or the people around me. It was a perception that brought about fear, insecurity, self-doubt, and stress. Some of what I have read in this book has helped me think about reshaping my perspective to see the current situation and next school year as a challenge instead of an obstacle, as an opportunity for professional and personal growth instead of a hindrance to peace. Part

Joy cover
The Book of Joy, by the Dalai Lama, Archbishop Desmond Tutu, and Douglas Abrams

of what makes this perspective shift possible is an idea expressed on pages 196 and 197. Douglas Abrams writes, “When we confront a challenge, we often react to the situation with fear and anger.” He might as well have replaced “we” with “you,” so accurately does this sentence describe my initial reaction to challenges, which I tend to see as frustrating inconveniences at best, insurmountable obstacles at worst. On the next page, Abrams advises, “…what we think is reality is only part of the picture” and “our limited perspective is not the truth.” The book goes on to talk about taking a broader perspective–about realizing that we are not alone, and that all of our roles (AKA Teacher During A Pandemic) are temporary. Thinking about my present situation in a longer view, “in the larger frame of [my] life” (198), enables me to see that in the future, it will be just one strange year of a years-long career, a little blip in the otherwise mostly smooth (I hope!) experience. Thinking about my present situation in a wider view, I am able to see that even now, in the throes of it, people around me are innovating and collaborating like never before. They have all learned to “…respond instead of react” (181), a lesson I am trying to take to heart for myself.

In the vein of learning, another idea that comforted me was the concept that we are all learning–that our lives consist of innumerable lessons, each tailored to our own needs. At one point in the book, we learn that Abrams’s father suffered a terrible injury as a result of a fall. When Abrams’s brother told their father he was sorry he was going through such a rough time, his father’s response was: “‘It’s all part of my curriculum’” (157). I love this idea. “It’s all part of my curriculum” can serve as a reminder that we are all getting the lessons we need. In my case, these are likely lessons in flexibility and grace (not to mention instructional technology…).

A few days ago, I was lamenting to my husband about the fact that I don’t believe I will be as effective a teacher next year as I hope I have been in years past–that I don’t know how to use the technology and even if I figure it out, I won’t know how to use it well. That I don’t have the first lesson plan done. That I don’t even know where to start. That I feel woefully unprepared on a number of levels. On page 211, the Archbishop says, “…even if you are not the best one, you may be the one who is needed or the one who is there.” I don’t think I am going to be the best anything next year, least of all teacher, but I am going to be the one who is there, in the classroom, and for next year, that might have to be enough.  

I sat in the passenger seat of my husband’s pickup truck, watching employees scurry around a parking lot at a Chick-Fil-A, tirelessly delivering to-go chicken to cars parked in numbered spaces throughout the lot. It was a warm, humid evening in early July, and we were heading to my parents for dinner with my sister and her family. Outside my car window, I watched as what must have been a dozen masked people ran around in black pants and red polo shirts. They had not worked like this before–wearing masks in the heat, serving food through car windows, hoofing drink carriers from the drive-through

Joy Littles on the deck
One of my greatest sources of joy comes from doing my best to give The Littles a good life. Here, they look over their side yard and driveway from the outdoor couch on  our deck.

window to the far end of the parking lot. But here they were, uncomplaining, productive, and efficient, serving the needs of their customers. Reading this book enabled me to draw a parallel between what I was watching from my passenger seat, and the work I myself need to do for next school year. If these Chick-Fil-A employees could work this hard and this well under these conditions–then couldn’t I do it, too? Granted, we waited 30 minutes for our meal–but everyone I saw was working so hard, the wait hardly seemed important. What was important, though, was realizing I wasn’t alone. I’m not alone. None of us are. Since the shutdown in March, essential workers all over the world have had to adapt how they operate–including my own husband, who works at a bank. I can’t promise I won’t find myself crying again before school starts in September, or several times throughout the school year as I struggle to adjust to the demands of the unknown, but now I can remind myself that we are all in this together. That other people are struggling, too. That it is okay not to be the best one. And that it’s all just “part of my curriculum.”  

The Christmas Letter: Why a Mass Text or a Social Media Post Won’t Cut It

Christmas Letter
This year’s Christmas-card kit: a one-page letter, holiday stamps, a family portrait, and a signed card.

“We were going to send you a Christmas card, but just look for our ‘Merry Christmas’ mass text message instead.” That flippant statement blared over my car’s radio speakers as I drove to work listening to Christmas music earlier this week. It’s true–I myself will send out a few “Merry Christmas” texts of my own come Christmas day, but not in the form of a mass text to the majority of my contact list. I will send them to a few intimate friends and family members as a small reminder that I am thinking of them, that I love them, that I truly wish them a happy holiday. And these texts will not be in the stead of my annual, page-long Christmas letter, sent in a signed holiday card, in some cases with a personal message and wallet-sized family portrait.

Technology has seemingly diminished our need for the annual holiday update, decreasing the value of a year summarized in an annual Christmas letter. After all, we can post anything to social media for all to see with the swipe of a finger across a screen. And just like that–POOF!–the need to sit down and spend time writing a Christmas letter, signing a card, and addressing an envelope have vanished.

When I was a kid, my parents always sent out a Christmas letter detailing our family’s year in the trips we had taken, the family and friends we had visited or hosted, our most recent move, the achievements we had experienced, etc. Many of my parents’ friends and family members did the same. I loved reading everyone’s annual update, typically folded neatly into a festive card, which my parents would tape to the garage door until it was completely covered in Christmas cards. I always loved that colorful door, decorated with season’s greetings from people we loved.

When I was a kid, I loved reading everyone’s annual update, typically folded neatly into a festive card, which my parents would tape to the garage door until it was completely covered in Christmas cards.

Now that I am an adult, in many respects living in a world very different from the one I inhabited as a child, technology has seemingly diminished our need for the annual holiday update, decreasing the value of a year summarized in an annual Christmas letter. After all, we can post any major milestones, achievements, sorrows, job changes, moves, new arrivals, and adventures to social media for all to see with the swipe of a finger across a screen. And just like that–POOF!–the need to sit down and spend time writing a Christmas letter, signing a card, and addressing an envelope have vanished. If anyone wants to know what we’ve been up to, they can check our Facebook page or our Instagram account or our Twitter feed.

The need to let someone know you’re thinking of them goes beyond a “like” on Facebook or Instagram. Why not put in a little more effort (it’s just once a year!), and take the time to sign a card? Even better–write a quick personalized message. You know–in your handwriting. With a pen.

But these posts, while informative and fun and entertaining, are impersonal announcements. They do not say to any one friend or family member or neighbor, “Hey–I wanted you to know about this. You are special to me. I am making an extra special effort to stay in touch with you, because you matter to me.” Similarly, while studies have shown we all get a little kick out of “likes” and comments on our social media posts, as well as a thrill out of the sound of the text message alert on our phones, the need to let someone know you’re thinking of them goes beyond a “like” on Facebook or Instagram. If you truly care about someone, why not put in a little more effort (it’s just once a year!), and take the time to sign a card? Even better–write a quick, personalized message. You know–in your handwriting. With a pen.

Composing a Christmas letter provides an excellent opportunity for you to reflect on the year. It gives you space to sit down and look back on the growth you and your loved ones have experienced in the past 12 months, allows you to go back and savor the year before a new one begins, and might even help provide some clarification regarding what your priorities for the new year might be.

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Along with saying to loved ones, “Hey, look! You’re so special to me, you made my Christmas card list!”, composing a Christmas letter provides an excellent opportunity for you to reflect on the year. The things you remember from the year and the things you want to include in your letter are likely the things that were most important to you, or that made the most impact on you. It gives you space to sit down and look back on the growth you and your loved ones have experienced in the past 12 months. The changes you have made. The goals you have achieved. The trips you have taken. All the things we quickly post to social media, and then likely forget about until they show up on TimeHop or in our Memories on Facebook. Writing a Christmas letter allows you to go back and savor the year before a new one begins, and might even help provide some clarification regarding what your priorities for the new year might be.

Writing my Christmas letter and signing my cards doesn’t feel like a chore; it feels like a beloved holiday tradition.

A few days ago, I was talking to my sister about Christmas cards and letters. We both agreed that sitting down to address envelopes for our annual holiday mailings was therapeutic. We watch a favorite TV show or listen to Christmas music and just leisurely write out our cards. It gives us reason for pause, a break from the go-go-go. For those moments while I am writing my letter, signing my cards, and addressing my envelopes, nothing else is on my mind. All the thoughts running through my head involve the highlights of my year, or the loved ones whose names and addresses I’m handwriting on the page. It doesn’t feel like a chore; it feels like a beloved holiday tradition.

I should say that even as I bemoan the lost art of writing Christmas letters and signing Christmas cards, many people do still send them–and I eagerly check my mailbox every day from Black Friday to New Year’s Eve in anticipation of receiving them. I don’t adhere them to my door like my parents did when I was growing up, but I do display them–in a kind of Christmas card garland. The cards and letters and family photos cling festively to a strand of Christmas lights adorning my back entryway, where I walk under them every time I leave home, and every time I come back in. These greeting cards bring me joy when I find them in my mailbox, when I walk under them to leave home, and when I walk under them to return. They fill my heart with Christmas cheer. I dare a mass text message to do that.

Lesson Plans: The Crucible, A Scavenger Hunt through Salem

I’ve been reading Arthur Miller’s play The Crucible with high school English students since I first began my teaching career in 2006. I’ve been teaching Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter for almost as long. A few years into my career, I went on a campaign to convince my family that we should spend part of our summer touring around Salem, Massachusetts. I wanted to experience first-hand the place I had been reading about since I myself sat in a high school English classroom studying these works, and I knew I could gather material that would enhance my teaching of the play, the two fascinating and terrifying time periods it explores (the Salem Witch Trials and the McCarthy Era),  and the novel. For reasons I don’t remember, the trip didn’t happen, and years went by–but this past summer, my aunt and uncle moved to Cape Cod, and when I visited them in June, they were kind enough to help make my years-long dream of visiting Salem a reality (though it meant about as much time in the car as it did on the streets of Salem!).

Witch House Purple Flowers
The Witch House is one of the many sites my students “visit” on their scavenger hunt of Salem through the halls of our high school.

After visiting, reading about, and photographing The Nathaniel Hawthorne Birthplace, The House of the Seven Gables, The Custom House, The Salem Witch Trials Memorial, The Old Burial Ground, The Witch House, and several other points of interest, I felt exhausted, educated, intrigued–and a little like there was still so much to see, and so little time! Still, I had gathered tons of interesting information to share with my students and satisfy (or pique!) my own curiosity, and I had taken dozens upon dozens of photographs to share with my classes come September.

But what to do with this information and these photographs? Sure, I could throw the photographs up on the screen and give my students the “My Day in Salem” lecture. I could put the photographs and information into a Power Point, Prezi, or Google Slides presentation. I could print them off and pass them around the room.

But none of this was good enough. None of it even approximated the real thing.

Victims' Memorial
The Witch Trials Memorial in Salem, Massachusetts

 

About a month went by, the photos still on my phone, the information still in my head, before I realized that what I really wanted to do was, well, take my students to Salem…

This, of course, was not as realistic as a “My Day in Salem” Power Point. But it would be  so much more effective!

So what if I mimicked the experience to the best of my ability…by turning the halls of our high school into the sidewalks and streets of Salem, Massachusetts? I typed an e-mail to my principal, and with her approval and support, set about creating my Salem Scavenger Hunt. With the help of my colleagues, the plan went smoothly this fall. So smoothly, in fact, that two of my colleagues created their own subject-specific scavenger hunts for their classes. This spring, with the help of Erin Ford, our school’s resident technology genius, I’m confident it will go even better. Erin has helped me incorporate technology like augmented reality to enhance the experience and further engage my students. Using the app HP Reality, formerly Aurasma, our scavenger hunt is going to come to life–to approximate an actual visit to Salem as closely as possible.

 

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Throughout our reading of the play and the novel, my students were still referring back to things they had learned in the scavenger hunt. It was far more effective than a lecture, worksheet, or presentation would have been. As much as possible, it brought the places, the people, and the time period alive for my students. The plans are below. I hope you and your students will get as much out of this as my students and I do!

Below is the original, more “analog” version of the scavenger hunt, which uses photos I printed and laminated from my trip.

A Visit to Salem Scavenger Hunt.docx

Thanks to Erin, you can find the technology-enhanced version below. It will require you to download the HP Reality app and set up your own augmented reality. You will still use the photos available in the analog version above, but when students use the app and hold their phone over specific photographs at each site, they will see videos, articles, etc. relevant to that site (once you have created your specific Aurasma).

Scavenger Hunt Rules

Following the technology-enhanced scavenger hunt, students are then asked to create a presentation using what they learned. They could also do this in the less technologically involved version, as well. Find a template here:

Travel Log

Regardless of whether you opt for the more analog version or the more technological version, you will need:

  • enough copies of the rules/worksheet packet for each student
  • colleagues willing to chaperone your students in the hallways
  • photographs of the sites, placed ahead of time at various locations around the school
  • enough copies of a map of your school, marked with the locations of the sites, for each student or each group of students.

My execution of this technology-enhanced version is slated for February, and I can hardly wait to see how it goes!

Witch House IV
The kitchen of the Witch House, where the trials initiated.