All teachers are not created equal

I am sure that many of you have viewed the cell phone footage of Jeff Bliss, a sophomore student who lectures his social studies teacher about how to teach while being kicked out of the classroom.  Most of my students have seen it.  I’ve seen it.  I saw it when it first was posted on a social networking site a recently, and then I felt compelled to watch it again today.  

And here’s the interesting part: my reaction the 2^nd time around was much different.

Upon the first viewing, I agreed with the young man who felt so frustrated with his learning experience.  We all have had teachers who seem to just provide us with packets and busy work, who rarely get out of their chairs and who seem to just show up at 7AM to leave by 3PM every day.  A teacher who does the bare minimum and simply does what the state standards requires.  Nothing more.  I felt sorry for the kids, to have that scenario be their experience when history is such a fascinating and valuable subject.  I am sure there are many Jeff Bliss’s out there in the world, who are disappointed with how they are being forced to learn.    

On top of that, I felt sorry for the teacher.  I felt like I wanted to reach out to her, to ask her to try and remember why she entered the profession in the first place.  I wanted to ask her to find that passion that she may have once had for learning.  For teaching.  For the subject.  For the kids.  I felt as though she was created; She may have been strapped with too many high stakes tests that require her to “get through” enough content that might appear on a state standardized test, therefore not feeling able to dedicate sufficient time to project based instruction.  I honestly can attest that I do not know one single person who has decided to enter this profession because they want an “easy” job; to sit up at their desk while the students essentially teach themselves with packets (with the original worksheet being from 15+ years ago).  

And then something happened yesterday that caused me to go back and watch the viral video.  I overheard a few of my sophomore students joke about how they left midway through a school assembly the day prior.  On Wednesday, our history department worked tirelessly to bring Vietnam veterans into our school before Memorial Day, to share their experiences and display artifacts from their service with our kids.  The sophomores miss every single one of their classes from 2^nd period to 12^th period that day; it’s dedicated to students learning from these living historians who are sharing their stories that will not appear in textbooks.  Did I mention that the guest speakers, veterans, have to use a sick day or call off of work (ie – lose a day’s pay) to be here for the presentation? 

So needless to say, it’s quite an undertaking to coordinate this event.  After the morning session, students were led out to the commons for lunch.  And that's where the disappointing decision making happened.  From some accounts, at least half of the sophomore student body left.  They left school grounds, to go to a friend’s house to swim in the pool, and skipped the second session of the presentation.  According to some, it was wildly obvious how many students had flown the coop when the second session started and half of the auditorium was empty.

When my kids came in to my class that morning and I overheard them talking about how some of their classmates had chosen to leave, I did my best to contain myself.  How dare they.  How dare they disrespect our country’s soldier’s who have survived warfare.  How dare they disrespect the teacher’s who worked tirelessly to coordinate this event.  I highly doubt those individuals who took time out of their lives to share their experiences overseas will ever wish to return.  Their behavior makes not only their entire school look bad to the community, but I fear they tarnished the reputation of teens everywhere.  

So when I was in the right state of mind, I told those kids how I was disappointed in them.  I informed them that they are in charge of their own educational experience, and if they felt they had the right to leave an event like yesterday, then they needed to be aware of the message they were sending.  The message that I receive as a teacher from them the students is that they didn’t want to be taught with people who have experienced the events they study in their textbooks, that this unique opportunity was not valued and we can’t trust them to make good decisions.  I recalled saying, “So you didn’t WANT to be there?  Guess what, YOU and your poor decisions are exactly why teachers resort to making packets and letting you sit in your seats for the entire class period.  Forget having freedom to direct your own learning – you just demonstrated that you can’t handle that.  Congratulations.  You are to blame for good teachers like Mr J to question whether he should do anything like this ever again.”

That’s why I went back to the Jeff Bliss recording.  Because that teacher may have not only been shaped by state mandated testing, but she could have also been shaped years and years of kids being disrespectful and lazy and unmotivated and uncreative. She may have been held back from projects and experiences like our Veteran’s assembly because the administration was worried that kids might do exactly what they did here.  She may have had too many experiences with students that have caused her to lose her ambition to try something new.  All teachers, regardless of how seasoned they may be, will try new things in the classroom and sometimes, the end product is amazing. 

And sometimes, it blows up in your face.  You go home, lick your wounds, reflect on what went wrong and see if you can figure out how to make it right.  It might take a few years to try it again, but most teachers do.  They take that risk because that’s what it takes to touch kids’ hearts.

So here’s what I beg teachers like her, teachers who feel that what they do does not make a difference, teachers who have lost that excitement for teaching.  Please don’t give up.  Please do not stop being passionate and curious.  What I love about my job is that I get to be the first person to introduce students to new concepts and ideas that they have never heard of before.  Now more than ever, we need teachers to get back to that thinking.  We need to remember what it’s like taking kids from not knowing to knowing, from not understanding to understanding.  Keep trying.  The next year’s class might be better!  Or they might be worse, but you won’t know until you give them a shot.  They are just kids, anyway.  They make mistakes (hopefully) a lot more often than we do.  And in my mind, a mistake is an learning opportunity – failure is not the end, it’s the beginning of the lesson.

For the record, I had numerous students approach me to tell me that the Veteran's assembly was so interesting and they wished they could do things like this more often.   So Mr J, you may not have been able to reach the entire sophomore body, but you still sparked the interest and curiosity in some.  Those are the kids you need to remember.  Those are the kids who value what you do.

Coaching is an act of love

This year marked the end of my short lived coaching career.  I had coached volleyball for 13 yrs, ranging from 8th grade teams all the way to head coaching varsity.  I resigned at the end of the season, as I was expecting my 2nd child and because I just felt like I didn't like where the "job" was headed.

Let me be completely honest, I love the sport of volleyball.  I think it is a fantastic sport for young ladies to learn about teamwork, goal setting and dedication.  I enjoy the strategies that can be employed to obtain wins and I love the off season weight room workouts.  I love spending time with the coaching staff as we are all close friends.  I love learning new plays and creating new drills (or researching for other ones) to utilize in practice.  I love the excitement before our first match.  I love the team building activities that we used for our girls, like kayaking, as they were literally taken out of their element and forced to work with other girls they may not know very well.  I loved it. 

What I didn't love, was the amount of time I was spending away from my family.  I missed my first born's first steps, I missed putting her to bed and reading her books at night.  I missed family dinners and having in depth conversations with my husband about school/learning/politics/ANYTHING.

On top of that, I did not particularly enjoy, was the unrealistic expectations from not the student athletes, but their parents.  I was spending more time with other people's kids than my own family.

I get it.  Parents want the best for the kids.  And they should have high expectations of their daughters as well as their daughter's coaches.  As a coach, I too have expectations for the girls as well as for myself.  I took my coaching career very seriously.  I felt that because I was the head coach and because I was the one who developed the carefully scripted practice plans, that I was the one who needed to watch film and complete stats.  I was the one who turned in the line up so I needed to be the one who analyzed the data.  I also needed to be present at every off season workout, because the kids work harder when they know the coach is watching.  I also needed to run fundraisers and a little kids camp, because there was equipment we needed to purchase for the program, and I was raised to work for my money, not expect a handout. 

Because of those self imposed expectations, I was working like a dog.  For less than $2/hr.  How many people do you know who would ride home on a bus only to get home by 11pm to eat leftovers or drive thru fast food only to plop down and watch that night's film so they could work on practice plans for the next day?  How many of you could stand to hear your 3 yr old daughter cry on the weekends when you had to leave for a tournament, as she wailed, "No mommy!  No more volleyball!"  My husband couldn't even attend matches this past season because our daughter would see me and attempt to run across the court since you were rarely seen at home much.

Oh yeah, and did I mention how the parents will scrutinize every substitution you make (or didn't make), question every bit of your coaching philosophy and expect you to make their child a superstar?  They would go to the athletic director and complain that you might not be "intense" enough or make statements like you "do not play to win".  As an added bonus, when you sit down with the athletic director at the end of the season to have your season review, you are told that you are patient to a fault and need to be more intense when the officials make a bad call.

Reminder: You get paid $2/hr.

Here's the thing that might surprise some of you.  Coaching is not about the money; it's about the kids.  It's about teaching them that hard work does pay off.  It's about learning how to fall, time and time again, only to get back up and work harder the next time.  It's about sweat and tears, collateral that you pay in the weight room because you want to jump higher, hit harder and be injury free for the season.  It's about teaching the girls the art of the game, how to love it and work hard while having fun.  It is about winning, but at what cost?  Many retired coaches and military generals will tell you that if you get people to respect you, to believe in you, they will do just about anything for/with you.

It's not about getting your daughter a college scholarship.  Because here's the thing, parents would tell me that they "are hoping for college scholarship" but when you would talk to the student athlete, she would confide in you that she doesn't want to play in college.  So not only are the parents trying to live vicariously through their kids, they aren't even communicating with them.  The scholarship offers and the college letters are more of a badge of honor to these parents - bragging rights, if you will.  Don't worry about how your daughter might fit into the college coach's coaching philosophy, it's about the money they saved you.  It has gotten so ridiculous that a head coach of a large university here in central Ohio told us that he received a letter from an interested athlete who was 7 yrs old (Her father had penned the 2 page letter, claiming she was going to become something great!).  Who is to say that this coach will even be coaching at the same institution 10 yrs from now?  Or that the child will even want to play volleyball when she's in high school? 

It's not about implementing a year round program because that's what the parents want.  It's not about breaking Ohio High School rules to have more contact time than what is permitted.  I love that because other coaches break rules (either coaching other sports or coaching at other schools), now we are expected to do the same, in order to be competitive within our conference.  I understand that policing every sport at every high school is next to impossible, but I was taught that rules are rules.    

The girls don't need a year round program because the majority of them already participate in USA volleyball/Jr Olympics during the off season (from December until June).  Some of the kids even play another sport besides volleyball (gasp!) and some, believe it or not, have jobs outside of school, not to mention they are also taking AP courses and are involved in National Honor Society/DECA/yearbook.  Kids need time to be kids, and this year round expectation is not only contributing to our children to being good at one single thing (whatever happened to being multifaceted?), but now we are seeing an abundance of overuse injuries in the shoulders and knees.  I discovered that I was a rarity when it comes to my coaching philosophy because I wanted my girls to play other sports.  By playing basketball or softball or running track, the girls were staying active but using other muscles that they didn't utilize while playing volleyball.  It prevented injuries.

I also find it absurd that coaches are expected to go ape shit when an official makes a bad call.  The thing is, I have been up on the official's stand for 6 yrs, so I know what it's like up there.  Referee's cannot see everything and not once have I ever changed a call simply because a coach was berating me.  Besides, what example does that set for my girls?  And if I do go bananas over a call, I distract my girls from doing the job I have trained them to do.  They need to feel in control of their own match, and shouldn't feel that what they are doing doesn't matter because the official will call in the other team's favor.

I didn't coach to be respected by parents.  I didn't coach to be liked by kids.  I certainly didn't coach because of the illustrious salary.  I coached because I am a teacher at heart, and I enjoyed sharing my knowledge, passion and experience with student athletes in a sport that I hold very dear.

I am sad to have ended my career, because it definitely didn't end the way I had planned or expected it to.  But I needed to start listening to my own advice: family comes first.  No amount of minimal salary can replace seeing my kids' first steps or having my daughter wrap her arms around my neck and say, "I love you, Mommy.  No more volleyball." 

Dear Paul...

Dear Paul,

It's been a long time since we last spoke, since I saw you last.  Has it really been 9 years?  I remember February 21st and February 22nd, 2004 like it was yesterday; it surely doesn't feel like it's been almost a decade since I woke up on a Saturday morning to an empty house and the phone ringing.  I went to work that chilly morning, completely unaware of how our lives were going to be forever changed.  I will never forget the sound of Dad sobbing on the phone when I called him back, as he was at the hospital with you.  I will never forget how many people were crammed into that waiting room at St Ann's hospital and stayed with my parents all through the night.  And I will surely never forget how you woke me up at 4:42 am on Sunday, the 22nd, to tell me it was time for you to go.

I used to dream about you, but it's been awhile.  The first time I saw you in my dreams, I was standing at the end of the hall and you stepped out of your bedroom doorway, looking just like a typical 21 yr old should.  You were shirtless (as usual) and you flashed one of your signature smiles before I was startled awake.  I was so surprised to have seen you, that I woke myself up.

The next time I saw you, it was almost a year later.  Mom, Dad, Eric and I were sitting in church, at Central College Presbyterian Church (where Mom & Dad were married, where you and I were baptized, where Jason and I were married and where you were laid to rest) and we were all standing, singing a hymn.  Eric leaned over,  smiled and pointed to a few pews in front of us.  And there you were.  Singing along, with a book in your hand.  You turned your head, and smiled at us.

Again, I immediately woke up.

When I moved to Florida, I used to smell you in my car, even though you never rode in it.  In the mornings, in my apartment, there was a touch lamp that would always be on when I woke up.  Sometimes, it felt like Groundhog Day, where a certain song that reminded me of you would always be on when my alarm clock would go off or would come on the radio on my way to school.  I could feel you in the room.

You don't visit me anymore.

I like to think that it's because you have been reborn, to another place, another time.  You used to answer when I asked for your presence.  I could always count on you to be there when I was upset or scared.   We used to talk and I could hear your voice inside my own head.

I like to think that you're not "here" anymore because you know we're ok.  Because you know we miss you terribly, but we are not overwhelmed with sorrow or grief.  I know you were worried mostly about Mom, as you had every inkling to be.

Mom and Dad are doing ok.  I ask them all of the time how they are feeling, and they say "fine".  But you and I know that everything is not fine.  They lost their only son, to a senseless accident that shouldn't have happened.  You can tell when they are thinking about you.  Your friends still visit your grave and still post things on social media in remembrance.  You are surely missed, but not forgotten, Paul.

The first year you were gone, felt like a dream, like we were stuck in limbo or stuck in shock.  Nothing felt "real".  I would find myself trying to bargain and deal your life back; I would think that sometime soon I would wake up from this nightmare and everything would go back to being the way it used to be.  The second year was the toughest because reality set in.  We realized that you weren't coming back and the evidence was in the lives you saved through your generous and selfless gift of life.  One of the recipients was so moved by your donation, that he and his wife named their first child after you.  Because had it not been for you, he and his son, would never have existed.

An awful lot has happened since you left.  Jason and I bought the house you and I grew up in, and our children are growing up in the rooms you and I once called our own.  Juliette loves horses (go figure) and Price was just born 5 weeks ago.  They certainly have not replaced you, but they have definitely made it easier on all of us, sort of like welcomed distractions and another generation to love and spoil.  We've been remodeling the old Price homestead to make it more of our own home, but it still has the memories preserved in its foundation.  If you're able, you should stop by sometime to check it out.  Uncle Bean has been hard at work, updating almost every room in the house.  Remember when you kicked the hole in the wall in the front room?  Or when you and Eric chased each other in a water fight on the roof?

If there's one important lesson that I have learned from all of this, and it's that time doesn't heal all wounds - you just learn to live with the pain.  Every year you've been gone, it hasn't necessarily gotten easier.  The pain just becomes that less sharp and consuming.  Don't get me wrong, we still shed tears when we relive memories or wonder what you'd be doing if you were here with us today.

I know you'll never read this or fully understand the weight my words carry, but I can't help hoping that you might.  That you might be hovering over my shoulder as I type this to you.  That you might hear the words in my head.  That you might, just might, visit us again. 

Maybe I'll see you in another life, brother.

With love,
Me

Is leadership the new bullying?

Earlier in the year, a few of my sophomore volleyball players were asking some of their team mates why they weren’t with them in the weight room during the off season.  As a head coach, I was proud that my underclassmen were making their team mates accountable.  I was even prouder that I didn’t have to initiate that conversation – they did it all on their own.  And because they were individually asking their team mates why, more and more girls began to attend the weight room.

Well, as you know, there are always 2 sides to each story.

One of the players mother’s claimed that the sophomore group was “bullying” her daughter.

I really didn’t know where to go with that.  I didn’t want to discredit what the one player was feeling, that her perspective wasn’t “real”.  But in the same breath, I thought to myself, “How is this now considered bullying?”

I worry for the youth that we have been carefully raising, by telling them that they are smart enough to become whatever it is they wish to become.  That if they want something bad enough, they can accomplish it JUST BECAUSE they think they can.  Our kids are not permitted to struggle, they are not allowed to lose and therefore they do not gain valuable experience with dusting themselves off and trying again.  This generation has been raised on beefed up self-esteems, to the extent that they have unrealistic perspectives of their abilities.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard my students in Biology class say, “I’ve never had to study before.”  

I do not doubt that bullying occurs in schools.  I am not saying that there are not kids that are targeted because they are different.  What I am saying is that being held accountable is being misinterpreted as bullying now.  If you can’t take constructive criticism, it’s bullying.  If your boss informs you that you are not doing your job well/right/fast enough, it’s bullying. 

One of the aspects of high school sports that I absolutely love is that the parallels from athletics mirror real life.  In life, there are winners and losers.  And when your team loses, it stings and you have 2 choices – you can give up or you can get up and work harder.  Losing is good for kids; everyone shouldn’t be awarded a trophy JUST BECAUSE they participated.  Kids need to learn that just because they lost, doesn’t mean they give up.  It means you learn how to dig deep.  It means you need to work harder.  My students are no different – when they encounter a tough problem or they get “stuck” in a lab/activity, their first instinct is to quit.  Because struggling is uncomfortable for them.  And God forbid they feel uncomfortable – they “think” they can accomplish anything JUST BECAUSE.  And when they get stuck, it doesn’t fit their paradigm.

In life, there are going to be people who don’t like you.  In life, you are going to encounter people who try to keep you down.  Because we do not teach our kids how to deal with these sorts of experiences, I feel that we are inadequately preparing them for life in general.  Yes, we do spend some time while in school on how to be “nice” to one another and not to pick on others who are different, but we do not teach kids who are the victims of bullying how to adequately deal with real bullying situations.

Lordy, if I recount how many times my college coach screamed his head off at me, by today’s standards, I would have been harassed.  If I look at how many times I was evaluated by athletic directors/parents/principals and read through the constructive criticism I had received, it’s amazing how I didn’t end up depressed, rocking myself in the corner of my bedroom.  

Maybe it’s because my parents made me fight my own battles.  Maybe it’s because my parents were teachers and coaches, and they refused to let me grow up thinking I was better than everyone else just because.  Or maybe it’s because I grew up in a time period where we weren’t all told that we could become anything we wanted.  Whatever the reason(s), I fear that I am doing the youth of today a disservice by not being honest and up front with them.  And I try to purposefully put my athletes and students into situations where they might feel uncomfortable because they need to learn how to problem solve.  They need to see that there is learning in the struggle.

Sharing is caring

I was fortunate enough to land my dream job last year; I moved up and on from middle school science and found myself elbow deep in biology curricula and anatomy. I was like a hog in mud (and still am, actually). I feel so lucky to be teaching the content that I am so incredibly passionate about. I am also working with some phenomenal teachers. Individuals who love what they do and are about taking risks and trying new things and being open to new ideas.

When I knew I wasn't going to be teaching middle school science this year, I packed up my belongings and made the move over into my new digs the last day of school, when it was just a teacher work day. Then, over the summer, I organized my files and lesson plans and activities that I had saved on my external hard drive. It was kind of nostalgic, opening old activities and lessons I had done in the first 5 years of my teaching career. It was like witnessing evolution first hand. There were definitely some activities that I cringed when I opened them (because I thought to myself, "Those poor children!") and there were others that I had kept and stowed away, to maybe use again some day when I was ready.

Since I adhere to becoming the facilitator and not the disseminator of information in the classroom, I would venture to guess that almost 90% of the things saved on my hard drive are my own creations. They are not completely organic as they were seeded from activities I had seen/found online, but they were adapted, edited, toiled over, hour after multiple hour, until they asked the kids just the right questions and they assessed their understanding in just the right format. Don't get me wrong, they were living documents because I would always find some way to refine the activity.

So you could only imagine my conundrum when asked by a former colleague if they could have a huge project that I created. The structure or skeletal frame of this project came from the reality show, Survivor, but the premise was to get students to work on teams to review content for their upcoming state test. I remembered the original idea from a teacher article in NSTA and then I saw a version online (http://sciencespot.net). I created my own directions, my own activities, my own assessments, my own "rules" and my own time frame to get it all done. The end result was AMAZING. My kids were focused and excited because I incorporated competition and I chose their groups using Kagan strategies so that one group was not overly superior to any other. I had literally no discipline problems because the kids were interested in what we were doing (not to mention, my kids did fairly well on those sections of the state standardized test).

Now, it's not that I am a stingy toddler who doesn't know how to share or play nice, I completely understand why it's so difficult for teachers to simply hand over a project that took quite a bit of time and dedication to create. Some people might suggest that the person who asks for the activity actually is lazy or just doesn't want to put in the effort themselves.

And those nay-sayers MIGHT be right. That teacher asking for your lessons is just looking for an easy way out. They aren't creative. They do not have the desire to create such a thing.

Yet, I choose to take a different stance. My job is about children. Plain and simple. And if this activity benefits kids, then I feel obligated to share.

And here's the reality: the teacher who takes my "stuff" may not even use the activity to its fullest capacity and may butcher the crap out of it (which could be a reason for some to not even bother sharing).

But what if they don't butcher it?

What if they are concerned about their student's success and this teacher is reaching out to someone that they feel might help them? Haven't you ever had to ask someone for help? Sometimes asking for help is hard for people to do.

I try to take this perspective: every teacher truly cares about their profession and their student's success. And if there is a young and inexperienced teacher out there who is looking for some solid activities to use with their students, then it is my obligation to help be a supportive colleague. It's my job to help that teacher so they they continue to improve in their craft. It's my job to ensure that they never become comfortable in teaching the same lessons year after year.

I don't care what it looks like. I don't care that it might appear that I am weak and am willing to be taken advantage of. I am fully aware that I have nothing to gain, besides pride, if I do not share.

And in the end, it's the kids that have everything to lose if I don't.

Is Online Learning Where it's at?

Last year I applied to be a part of a select group of teachers in my district to compose and administer online courses. I was accepted into a group of highly motivated educators to collaborate and implement online courses for the upcoming school year. Needless to say, it hasn't exactly gone as planned.

To begin with, the leadership changed hands over the summer. The opening session of our "training" for this program was spent convincing us that this venture was worthwhile. In many of our minds, it was wasted time because all of us were already convinced that online learning was something that needed to be explored for our district, or we wouldn't have applied in the first place. We also had a panel of teachers from an area district who had already unveiled their online courses. It was insightful to an extent, although they were targeting a different group of students (pre-drop out prevention) than we were.

We have hit many road blocks along the way - from being provided time to collaborate to the district leadership not being very clear with "what" the online courses will look like. For example, the science teachers as a whole, would like to have a hybrid model where students come to school for 1-2 hrs once or twice a week for lab activities. In order for a student to take an AP Biology class, they are required to have completed 17 specific labs in order to earn AP credit.

We also have struggled with how to make these courses as rigorous as the typical classroom experience.

I have so many unanswered crippling questions about creating online classes that I find myself questioning if even creating an online course is in the best interest of my students. I often have the discussion with my colleagues that if I am hesitant to include an activity with my online students then should I even include the activity for my classroom students? How does one build a community and relationships with students in an online environment? Are the students of today motivated enough to learn without the structure of a classroom environment? Am I ready for the transition from being a facilitator in the classroom to being someone who simply monitors student progress?

I keep coming back to a central question - is this what's best for students?

I originally assumed that I would create an anatomy/physiology class online, since those students are juniors and seniors and they are more experienced, motivated and disciplined than my sophomore biology kids. I was not prepared for my anatomy students' reactions when I told them what I was attempting to do.

The majority opinion of those students was absolutely not. They told me that there was no way they would take this class online because they needed to "hear my voice explain the concepts and provide the real world examples."

This was not what I anticipated. So, I polled my bio students. Some of them were interested in taking my class online, but when I pressed further to find out why, many of them responded with because then they could do it on their own time. When I asked about time management being a concern, they said that their parents would make them get their assignments (which I found funny, because their parents don't make them get their homework done now, so how would online learning be any different?).

A student yesterday told me of a former student in their class; this young man had been failing all year and when he left last week, he enrolled in an online program and made up 3 quarters of work in a matter of 5 days.  Now, does that mean the work that was happening in the brick and mortar classroom wasn't worthwhile?  Or does it mean that the online version was easier?  Or does it mean that the student excelled with the format of the online course?

On top of this, everyone around me seems to be raving about the Kahn Academy.  I do not disagree that Salman Kahn is not an educated or brilliant man, but what I will disagree with is the fact that what he has done is revolutionary.  How is posting video clips online any different than lecture or direct instruction?  Ok, so kids can watch and rewatch and rewatch his clips over and over, which is something they can't do in the regular classroom.  But they can't ask him questions either.

At this point, I feel as though I love being with students, face to face, too much to leave and transition into an environment where I don't get to see their reactions when they learn something shocking.  I know I might not belong in an online classroom, but in general, I am still undecided as to what I think about online learning.