This week’s prompt asks us to reflect on pandemic-era changes in teaching practices and how we have been personally changed during this most “interesting” of times. I’m having trouble. After all, when Covid-19 references come up in books or movies, I find myself instinctively turning away. Recently, I forced myself to finish reading Ann Patchett’s Tom Lake set in the pandemic, because, well . . . Ann Patchett. But most discussions about the pandemic have me scrambling for a safe and comfortable 6-foot distance from the speaker.
So I will start with a pandemic love story of sorts, which I swear will circle back to teaching. In March of 2020, my husband and I celebrated our 33rd wedding anniversary. We likely marked the occasion how we spent most weekends during that season – ordering takeout and finding some deserted outdoor space in the downtown Chandler area to dine.
Such spaces were not hard to find, and it was a special time for us. My husband was the police chief in Chandler when the pandemic hit, and for the first time in our lives his weekends were not consumed with public meetings, ribbon-cutting, you know – the shaking hands and kissing babies that is part of life as a public figure. Instead, we had hours of quiet time to reconnect and reconsider all that is really important in life.
One night during that time, we brought our takeout to the top of the parking garage that overlooks the downtown square. This garage that usually has no parking spaces to spare was completely empty that night, and we placed our food on the ledge as we surveyed the quiet city. It was romantic, but this is not the pandemic love story I want to share.
After a few bites, we spotted a police car coming into the garage and winding its way up the levels toward us. However, the car stopped on the floor below. The police officer got out of his car and rested against the back bumper. Figuring he was taking a break, we joked about getting caught and went on with our eating. A few minutes later, another car pulled up, and this time my husband recognized one of his civilian employees emerging from the car.
“Oh no!” my husband muttered. It became clear to both of us that we were observing a tryst-in-progress.
“But look, they’re standing completely apart,” I noted as my husband mentally processed how to deal with this possible HR issue. But if this was a heated encounter, the burner definitely appeared to be on low. Soon after, a procession of police cars proceeded to wind their way toward the couple – about seven cars in all. Busted!
“Ohhhhh!” my husband said, this time with a look of recognition on his face. The civilian proceeded to take food out of her trunk, and the officers began their shift briefing, which just happened to be mandated (by the man next to me) to be held in an outdoor location for safety. My husband popped in on the briefing, and all had a good laugh.
Really, there is a teaching connection!
This experience reminds me that things are not always as they seem with our students as well. We may not know the context behind a situation a student presents. What we perceive as motivation for a student’s behavior may not be accurate. And I think the pandemic reinforced the idea that it is best to withhold judgement. We never really know what is going on in the life of another based on what we observe from the outside.
Our brains are pattern-seeking devices that use a whole host of shortcuts to reduce expenditure of cognitive energy. (For a better description than I can offer, check out Dr. Rick Hansen’s See Beings, Not Bodies.) To combat this tendency, one of my mentors from the Scottsdale School District encouraged her team to always have a positive presupposition when working with both children and adult learners. In other words, we don’t automatically attribute a missed assignment to late-night gaming or take a class absence as a sign the student doesn’t care. It’s a loving approach to humanity – to provide room for alternate explanations for our immediate perceptions.
This post originally appeared on Glendale Community College’s Write 6X6 blog.