What follows is a revised version of a reflection that I gave last year, in which I reflected on the past three academic years. I started to write a reflection of this academic year, and then thought that I’d post this as a way to give context, and a way for me to remember. I only reflect on my professional life here. But, i feel it is easy to infer things personally as well.

June 2022

Looking Back Over the Past Three Years:
Academic years 2019-2020, 2020-2021, 2021-2022

It was a challenging few years – for all of us.
The era marked by Covid wreaked havoc on our lives in many ways, but at the same time presented us with opportunities for growth. 
In the beginning, as we were adapting to remote teaching and learning, I invested time to learn how to create and edit videos effectively, which meant a financial investment, too, in an external camera, green screen, software and sound equipment. (Thankfully, other teachers helped me out tremendously with their knowledge and experience using green screen, etc.) Even before our school community’s official workshop-days learning about Social and Emotional Learning (SEL), I knew that I had to pay attention to what was in my student’s field of vision – what that said about me, and also what it said to them. I had to learn when I was going too fast or too slow through trial and error; when I was giving too much information, and when I just needed to listen – often to the deafening silence of 23 boxes on a Zoom screen that were either turned off, or frustratingly angled at the ceiling, or clear views of adolescent “bed-head” hair. (It has been my experience that students are much more willing to engage and stretch their curiosity when we are all together – in person – in the same physical space.) 
As if the pandemic wasn’t enough of a challenge, we had to deal with unprecedented social and political challenges. Teaching scripture gave me a way to address these challenges without bringing up politics; it’s scripture, after all, which offers its own social and moral commentary. 
And then there was loss. So many of us lost family members, loved ones or friends.
At the end of the day, I had never felt more disconnected through forced (yet necessary) artificial connection. If it was hard on me, I could only imagine what it must have been like for adolescent boys at a critical stage of their spiritual, intellectual, moral and creative development. 
Then came the era of masks, complicated unidirectional routes taped onto the ground, keeping track of Cohort A and Cohort B, learning new technological systems in the classroom, and social distancing. We navigated our way through what seemed like Shakespeare’s Birnam Wood. It was an era of continued human disconnection as all were hidden behind masks and technology. It was my responsibility to present an atmosphere of affirmation and compassion. We looked the same, hidden behind our masks.  It occurred to me that our mask-wearing was a literalization of a metaphor: We all wear “masks.” We choose how people see us. The blue paper masks that we wore exposed the person behind the masks that we had fashioned for ourselves. In many ways the challenge and the exhaustion brought out our true selves. 

I have learned a lot. The learning curve was a sharp one. Before the Covid Era I was resistant to the idea of going fully digital. As I adapted, I found that it made life easier in some ways for both me and my students. Don’t get me wrong – I am still an old fashioned human creeping slowly into eccentric old age. I actually embrace that. At the same time, I see the value in technology as a tool; not an end in itself.  This year(academic year 2021-2022), as some of my colleagues went back to photocopies and hardcopies, I decided to keep my classes all digital. I found that it helped both me and the students to stay organized. It created a sense of facility among the classes knowing exactly where things were and how to access and submit work. I encouraged them to take notes digitally or in a paper notebook. The choice was theirs. I encouraged them to experiment with different notetaking styles. I experimented with how we engaged with media. I am very aware of the diversity in ability and learning styles in the classroom, especially in an unleveled class like Religious Studies. So, last year (2021-2022), instead of showing video clips to the whole class at once on the big screen, I had them access the video clips on their iPads. This allowed them to pause, rewind, and fast-forward at their own pace. I also made the decision (to attempt) to keep all work in the classroom. I am very aware of the pressure that our students are under during “normal” times. With the added pandemic pressures I tried to relieve some of that stress by limiting the work done at home. 
I have always tried to facilitate an environment of acceptance and honesty in the classroom.
Additionally, my experience in the classroom has been that if you show them, over the course of time, that every question and observation is taken seriously, then they feel validated. It creates an atmosphere in which it’s OK to make creative leaps and ask questions. Once they feel affirmed and taken seriously they open up. Some of our best classes were more conversational “give and takes” as they felt like they could ask anything and I would give them an honest answer. More than once this year I have had to pause and let the student know that I had never thought of something the way they did. I have been astounded by some of their perspicacity. 

In the coming year(s) I hope to continue learning how to best use technology. I think that I will continue to attempt to keep all work in the classroom. It will be an opportunity to thoughtfully revise my syllabus and my approach in the classroom. 

On a more personal note, The past few years have required many of us to move into “survival -mode,” often at the expense of personal care. I have to admit that I am not entirely sure what the psychological community means by “self care.” I do know that I need to figure that out. A work/life balance has been increasingly challenging.

The classroom experience aside, my continued involvement with our GSA is important to me. The academic community has come a long way on the journey of acceptance and inclusivity. What was fear earlier in my career has turned into pride. I am so proud of what we do as we continue to move forward. I honestly tear up a little when I see the Pride Flag, or being openly supportive of our students who are most at risk. I remember, with a very heavy heart, graduates (whom I have had the pleasure of knowing as students) who have taken their own lives. It makes the work that we do here – that I do here – even more urgent. I am honored to be part of this academic community striving for inclusivity, a founding member of our GSA, and currently working on the school’s Gender Equality Task Force. The torch in the school seal signifies the light of faith and reason that hopefully serves as a beacon in what can be a dark and confusing world. 

Years ago, I was on retreat at the same time as several bishops from around the Archdiocese of Boston. During the week I found myself in the elevator with some of them. They were talking about the canon of saints and debating a little bit about what it took to become a saint. I usually try to stay silent in these awkward elevator moments. But this time I couldn’t help myself. I turned to Bishop McCormack and said, “We are ALL holy. Saint Paul says that we are ALL saints.” I don’t think they had expected me to say anything. They went silent. And then Bishop McCormack said, “You are absolutely right.” 

I have recounted the story before about the child who looks at stained-glass windows in their church and comes to the realization that saints are the people that the light shines through. 
All of us – all of our students – are saints. All of us are “the people that the Light shines through.” 

Sometimes it’s up to us to polish the glass a little.