13,000miles for Mental Health

There are times in life when two roads diverge in a yellow wood

...and then there are times when the road ends.

Sometimes that road is a physical road, i.e. the Dalton Highway in Alaska where I plan on taking my motorcycle this summer, for what might be the craziest thing I've ever done both as a human being and as a teacher; sometimes that road is figurative one - like when a pandemic happens and suddenly everything you've ever known is turned on its head, and all your fancy maps get replaced with blank spots that say "here be dragons."

In the beginning

Monday March 9th, 2020, I sat in a faculty lounge of the New York City school I teach at, staring at my computer and realizing I had under planned my lesson for the day. I needed to fill some time and I had been a little distracted by something happening outside of school, that I very much thought could become an in school problem. The first confirmed case of Covid19 in NYC had been recorded not long before, and the person commuted through a highly trafficked commuter hub that a majority of my students, coworkers, and myself used to get to our school. Covid had been on my radar for a while, and I was already thinking about the possibility of school being affected. So, to fill time, I decided to have a brief conversation with my students, and throw in a couple of slides to my lesson about the possibility of Covid19 impacting us.

By Thursday and Friday of that week, I had put in another few slides, and many were starting to believe this may become a significant problem for us. That was evidenced by the noticeable drop in attendance on Friday as some families chose to preemptively keep their children home out of caution.

On Sunday March 16th, I had recorded a video for my students with instructions and what to expect for the week ahead. I outlined that I'd try for a type of hybrid teaching - students in person would run through the lesson in class like normal, and students at home would interact with lessons individually but still be working with the same material. I uploaded the video, and some materials for the week into Google Classroom, then went about my day.

About an hour after that, Mayor DiBlasio made the public announcement that NYC schools would be going remote, and school faculty would spend the upcoming week "prepping" for the transition. I remember being a bit relieved I wouldn't have to try to teach some hybrid style with half my class being virtual, and the other half in person; just the thought of trying to do that seemed like hell. It'd be easier to try and teach all 170 of my students through a unified medium - and hey, I had my first week of this new virtual teaching thing planned out and in Google Drive so my work for this "planning week" was essentially done!

In retrospect, I'm not sure I've ever regretted being right anything as much as I've regretted being right about so many things associated with Covid19 and school.

When we transitioned to Distance Learning, and became even more entranced by social media and the latest Covid updates - I tried to focus more on making sure my students were ok, rather than trying to stick to curriculum, or planning. That's not to say there was a lack in continuity of teaching (as best there could be) - but as a high school English teacher I'm lucky enough to have the flexibility of checking in with my students through social emotional learning; still assessing their written abilities while allowing them to vent and get out whatever they need to get out. In that moment I was worried about the people who used to sit in front of me - not the grades, and test prep numbers that tend to so often disproportionately determine a student's value. Through Discussion Threads and Short/Long Responses, my students were able to retain some semblance of community in which they had support from their peers and an outlet to to help them look as much inwardly as they were looking outwardly.

Bringing Riding into the Equation

In a world where you're supposed to socially distance but still want to enjoy the world - I'm not sure there is a better refuge than on the seat of a motorcycle.

As we navigated our way through the early days of what would become (and continues to be) the Covid19 Pandemic, something I personally found a lot of solace in was riding my motorcycle.

I had planned on going on a summer road trip, and just bought a new motorcycle before lockdowns began in the NYC metro area. Breaking in some new wheels was as refreshing as it was necessary. A lot of people you meet who ride will refer to riding a motorcycle as "wind therapy" - and prior to the pandemic I always thought that that was some sort of a joke, but now it's something I both understand, and embrace.

There's something romantic and freeing about being on a motorcycle. There is nothing but you and your thoughts. All the stress of life, work, everything...just melts away.

When you're riding a motorcycle, you have to be fully in the moment and block everything else out. It is incredibly dangerous for a lot of reasons, and as a result you need to be constantly analysing your situation because any number of things could happen. You're forced to be in the present moment. Lean too far into a turn; miss a pothole; get lazy in someone's blind spot - and things can get real bad, real quick. There's no worrying about lesson plans, or grading, or bills, or emails, or whatever else - there's just you, and the road.

There's a quote from Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, by Robert M. Pirsig, that honestly sums up being on a motorcycle in words I wish I had thought of first:

“In a car you're always in a compartment, and because you're used to it you don't realize that through that car window everything you see is just more TV. You're a passive observer and it is all moving by you boringly in a frame.

On a cycle the frame is gone. You're completely in contact with it all. You're in the scene, not just watching it anymore, and the sense of presence is overwhelming.”

It's hard to explain unless you've actually done it - but the difference between seeing something from the window of a car, and seeing it from the seat of motorcycle, are incomparable. You'll have a lot of boring miles and lackluster tedium along the way, but my God some of the places I've been to were worth every second of getting there.

Yes, I am the "Crazy" Teacher

While I was enjoying a brand spanking new bike and the freedom of riding around in beautiful weather with little to no traffic - my students were experiencing much different things. Many of them hadn't left their houses in about six weeks. Parents were acting out of caution, and in some cases were the only ones going out shopping or running necessary errands. On top of this my students (like the rest of us) were watching Covid data spike; participating in, or otherwise being keenly aware of the George Floyd protests; and watching as many elected officials stumbled around making decisions about the near future. From the earlier mentioned responses my students were generating through their assignments, I knew I had to do something to help them, (because I'm a dauntless knight errant who foolishly thinks he can make the world a better place, simply by acting decent.)

So, I bought a GoPro.

That's right.

A GoPro.

Little camera thing.

Went for the one that shoots photo & video in 360 degrees and everything!

Somewhere in the back of my mind I had wanted to record a bit of my road trip, but the deciding factor was showing my students that the world was still out there, and would be waiting for them. I hooked the GoPro up to my bike, and started recording some rides and uploading the video to Google Classroom so they could, in some virtual way, be back outside and just go a little adventure. So they could see something beyond the windows of their bedroom they'd been stuck in for weeks. So they could know that despite the world going to hell, everything's not as overwhelmingly bleak as it might have seemed.

Then, to one up it and go a little further, I started to take (local) requests, or surprising some kids in a unique but fun way. As protests were happening and you'd see burning cars or what have you in Brooklyn, and other parts of NYC - I'd take my GoPro and ride through the neighborhoods there had been protests on to show my students that the neighborhood was fine, and that the city wasn't being as destroyed as a lot of news outlets made it seem to be. It was a very little thing, but I know it helped to comfort a few students - and even if it was only a few, that's enough for it to have been worth doing. On top of my local rides, I also would occasionally sneak in music/songs my students were working on and had shared with me, as the background music for some of the videos.

It wasn't much - but I'd like to believe the little gestures like that helped the kids get through things. I know that in some ways it helped me get through them too.

North to Alaska

Now...where the heck am I going with all this? What does riding your motorcycle and teaching have to do with a challenge about student agency, spreading messages, and generally improving the world?

Well, like I said - I'm the crazy teacher.

For quite a while in the pandemic I've had this recurring thought about trying to network throughout the country, to see how others have lived through the pandemic. As we've continued on and overcome numerous challenges, I know that we in New York City have had a much different experience than folks elsewhere.

Throughout the various stages and mediums of teaching through the pandemic, I've kept a healthy dose of socioemotional learning in my classroom (and my passion and experiences with riding motorcycles,) and it's had a noticeable impact on my students. Now I want to take that out to the world, and reconnect a community the same way I did when the pandemic started.

I plan to ride my motorcycle from NYC to Deadhorse, Alaska. Along the way, I plan on taking Historic Route 66 for a spell to Albuquerque, New Mexico - then up through the Million Dollar Highway Colorado, and later while still in Colorado, conquering Mount Evans, which boasts the highest paved road in North America. After that I plan to go through Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming, meandering up through Glacier NP in Montana, following the mountains north through Banff, and Jasper NPs in Canada - eventually finding my way to Fairbanks, Alaska - where pavement ends, and the Dalton Highway begins. Provided I manage to survive all that, I plan on seeing Denali on the way home...you know, for good measure.

Throughout this crazy adventure I rarely plan

on being alone, though.

As I endeavor on this 12,000+ mile undertaking, I plan on taking my GoPro (maybe even getting one or two more) and meeting up with some other teachers along the way. I want to chat with other teachers across the country and ask them about both their experiences through the pandemic, and those of their students.

Across the country different people of all ages have faced different struggles. Students have lost parents. Teachers have lost partners. Education and society have reached an impasse that a few years ago would have seemed unimaginable. In the same way my little videos for my students were able to help them see the world, and through the discussion threads in which they were able to know they weren't completely alone in the world in their struggles - I'm really hoping this can have a similar effect on a larger scale. I want students in Colorado to see what other people their age have been going through in Illinois. I want my students who watched race riots I never expected to see in my life time, to know that other people their age who live thousands of miles away, aren't just going to sit by idly and let the world regress when they know they can do something about it.

I've already asked my students for ideas on messages they might want to spread across the country, or questions they might want me to ask as I go on this crazy adventure because I want them to be a part of this, and provide an opportunity to have their voices heard...but they were a bit too busy trying to wrap their heads around the fact that their English teacher is going on a 12,000mi trip on his motorcycle. I should have seen that coming, but I'm confident they'll come up with some great things when the shock of it all wears off.

Mental Health

I know first hand how important mental health is, especially for teenagers. I've had a lot of friends with substance abuse problems or suicidal thoughts/tendencies as a result of poor mental health. I know first hand what it's like to have no outlet, or to feel like there's no one you can talk to. More than that - to feel like you shouldn't talk to anyone about your problems. To need someone - anyone - who would listen, but instead you just keep hearing "oh, toughen up. You'll get through this."

Or, "Please, you don't know what real stress is."

"I've been there and gotten through it, you will too."

"Stop being depressed and just do your work."

And I know first hand how unhelpful those responses are.

In Canada, the company Bell came up with #BellLetsTalk Day. It's something that started out nice, but then became more of a cash grab companies benefitted from instead of a force for good. It's a day where people on social media are encouraged to share stories of overcoming mental health issues, and create posts welcoming others to talk about struggles they are currently experiencing or have experienced.

Conceptually, it's fantastic. One day to openly try ending the stigma of mental health issues, and allow people to speak their truth without judgement or reservation.

However, I'd argue that that's not enough.

So, while I go about this insanity to where the road ends, I plan on having some similar type of campaign - inviting others to just chat, and being willing to listen. A campaign to help end the stigma of mental health. And to be clear, this won't be taking from anything my students offer - it'll be in addition to it. Sometimes it's just as hard to listen as it is to talk to people, and actually say what you need to get out. Listening and sharing another person's burden in addition to your own can be difficult.

But I look at it like this:

I've somehow been able to teach through this pandemic and keep my sanity in tact. I've managed to leave the pavement of "normalcy" and teach through a computer, while somehow still making sure my students are taking away life skills. And, being alone on the road is tough. Last summer I did about 7,000miles solo, and it's a long time to be alone with your thoughts.

...but if I can survive where the road ended with teaching and society as I know it - then I can survive the Dalton Highway in Alaska, where the road physically ends.

I've made it through the mud and gravel of everyday life, so what's almost 500 miles one way of a little physical mud and gravel?

And, if I can stay mentally strong through both the literal, and figurative end of the road - then I can stay strong enough to help others with their mental health when they feel like they find themselves running out of road in the lives they've always known. And I know I'll make it there and back because I've got promises to keep...

and miles to go before I sleep,

and miles to go before I sleep.