The next time you see me, my hair will not be perfect. But, it will be my own.

Over the last few years, I have been dealing with Alopecia Areata. It started with thinning hair, but eventually the hair loss became significant and I couldn’t hide the bald patches any longer.

My hair loss was emotional: much more than I expected it to be. I faced insecurities, a loss of confidence, and shame. One day a few years ago – quite suddenly actually – I decided it was time for a wig. That too, was emotional: also much more so than I expected.

I shared my reality with some, but for the most part, I have tried to hide the truth. In time, I became more accepting. I adjusted. I started to share my story with a few more people. I have also met others with Alopecia: some children. Talking to others dealing with this condition has helped me to feel more normal and accept my reality.

Fortunately, over the last few months, my own hair has been growing back. What’s more, I have had no hair loss since. Now that the length has evened up, I have decided to lose the wig. I have also decided it’s worth sharing the truth and raising awareness.

I know my hair loss could begin again at any time. I know, too, that many others deal with hair loss much more significant than mine.

This blog is usually about education. Today it is about education of a different sort: September is Alopecia Awareness Month. If you want to learn more, please visit The Canadian Alopecia Areata Foundation. Today, I made a donation to this foundation; if you are interested and able, I invite you to donate to a cause close to your heart.

Each day, I find myself calling to and talking to our dog. You may think there’s nothing strange in that. After all, many dog owners do the same. Here’s the thing: he doesn’t hear me. He is now completely deaf.

So why do I still talk to him? Quite simply: habit.

A habit is defined as “a settled or regular tendency or practice, especially one that is hard to give up.”

I am not sure that I’ll be able to break the habit of talking to Jak. It’s just the way I’ve communicated with him for so many years.

But what about habits within our classrooms? If we begin to develop habits now – in September – these behaviours will become routine, something our students know to do.

As teachers, most of us are concerned about time. How do we find the time for all we need to do? How do we make the most of the time we have? For me, the answer lies largely in developing strong routines and efficient habits – especially during transition time.

Consider this: What habits do you want your students to develop? What can you do to support them?

We don’t always know the impact we have on our students.

Today I attended a Celebration of Life for one of my former teachers. The number of people in attendance – family and friends of course, but also former students and colleagues – is testament to the impact she had on so many.

The stories told highlighted her generosity, her eccentricities, her passion, her love of life. What came through most however, her love of books. She was described as “a goddess of literature” and a teacher who inspired a sense of wonder.

In his work with teachers, John Hattie says, “Know thy impact.” And yet today I was reminded that we can’t always know the exact nature of our impact. We can’t necessarily predict the words that may resonate with our students. We might not even realize a moment that may become significant in a student’s life: we may provide inspiration, much needed discipline, or even a sense of fun, at precisely the right time.

When I was a student in her classroom, Lynn Weinlos could not have known that to see her weep as she read aloud King Lear, sitting atop a student desk, would affect me to this day. Her unabashed love of literature, her unique style of teaching, her fundamental belief in the power of words, influenced me as a teacher, as a writer, and as a person to my very core.

We might not know our precise impact, but we should remember that our students listen and observe us each and every day, sometimes in unexpected ways.

“Know thy impact.”

Dewitt Jones, former National Geographic photographer, changed my thinking with his 18 minute Ted Talk.

This video has given me a new perspective, a new mantra even: live through a lens of celebration.

Meaning what? Meaning… we can choose the lens through which we view the world. Meaning… we can shift our thinking. Reframe obstacles. Stay engaged. We can stop griping and start celebrating. We can change our lens and change our life. We can discover a world of light and possibility. A world of beauty and compassion. We can celebrate what’s right with the world.

I urge you to take the time today to watch this Ted Talk full of insightful nuggets and stunning photographs. It will be 18 minutes well spent.

As a side note, it was a grade six teacher who shared this Ted Talk with me. This year, she is using the video to spark a unit of discovery with her students. They will be reading books within this theme: exploring how they can find their own voices and celebrate what’s right with the world. I wish I were a student in her class…

As we stand before our new classes of students, we look around to see faces that we will get to know well over the next ten months. We will learn the strengths of our students, their quirks, their interests, their diverse family situations, their hopes and dreams, and if we’re lucky, they’ll give us insight into their vulnerabilities, too.

When I choose a class read-aloud, I consider the composition of the students in my classroom. Sure, I have my favourite read-alouds depending on the grade I’m teaching, but with so much wonderful literature continually being published, I like to consider new releases and especially the needs of the kids in the room.

Have you read Charlotte’s Web, The Giver, or Wonder to your students? Yes? Then you know the literate conversations and life-giving discussions that follow.

The books we choose are important. After all, shared story experiences provide us with opportunities to discuss, make connections, express opinions, and open our eyes to situations other than our own. Books help us experience a range of perspectives, learn empathy, and explore emotions within the safety of their pages.

If you’re looking for something different this year, consider Chester and Gus by Cammie McGovern (told from a dog’s perspective as he lives and works with a boy with Autism), Crenshaw by Katherine Applegate (about a boy who’s imaginary friend – who happens to be a cat – helps him through some family struggles), or Hello, Universe by Erin Entrada Kelly (about unlikely friendships and dealing with bullies).

Franz Kafka once said, “A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us.” As a teacher, shared story experiences can assist us in breaking through the ice, supporting our students through the challenges they face in this world.

What will you read to your class this year?

One of the things on my summer to-do list was to go through the countless boxes of paper and files that I had accumulated over the years: from university courses, various classrooms, and three separate offices. I ended up with five blue bags full of shredding and many other boxes to give away or recycle.

During this process, I came upon a piece of writing from a student that I mention in my first book. ‘John’ was the self-proclaimed outcast in our classroom. It was a complicated situation rooted in years of interactions with his peers. In the book I explain how one October day freewriting enabled John to find a tentative entry point into our classroom community.

The piece of writing I came across recently echoed the same sentiments – a need for belonging and acceptance – as the freewriting I referred to in my book. This time the prompt was “I am…”

“I am ‘John’, the one who always gets bugged in our class…”

“People bug me and they never stop… if they can, that would make me surprised. But they can never do that. Don’t try to ask.”

I am not sure if I noticed it at the time, but reading it now, I notice that he begins with his name. “I am John.” Perhaps he was trying to reclaim his identity and redefine himself through his writing.

Before freewriting, John did not voice his frustration or sadness in appropriate ways but instead in ways that simply reinforced the stereotypes around him. Yelling. Teasing. Crying. Flailing his arms. Acting out. Insulting others.

As we begin the school year, I am thinking about how important it is to set the tone for the year… to help kids like John find their place… to create a safe space for students to take risks and explore their identities… to create a genuine community of learners.

I am thankful to John for the unexpected reminder.

I’m writing outside today. My dog lies on the steps a few feet away intently watching the squirrel at the bird feeder. There are at least a dozen sparrows in the same tree as the squirrel. They were at the feeder first when I filled it a few hours ago. Now they sit watching the squirrel devour their lunch. There are butterflies dancing around me, too.

Ah, summer writing. Am I working? Sure am. But how wonderful to be surrounded by nature, taken out of my writing now and then, to watch the antics of the birds, the squirrel, or my pooch.

Not all of my work can take place on my deck. But today, I am thankful that this work – the work on my novel – can. I will savour this feeling and revisit it a few months from now when the cold and snow return…

I’ll admit that I have been biting my tongue so to speak: avoiding voicing my anger and frustration, not wanting to wade into a political arena. But the events of this weekend are too much.

I keep thinking: if he were a school boy, if he were a child in our schools, he would be reprimanded, suspended, expelled even. And if he were a teacher or principal in our schools, he would be fired. His hate speech, intolerant views, and racist rhetoric would not be allowed.

Those of you who know me, know how much I believe in the power of words. Words do matter. As this site claims by its very name: words change worlds. Sadly, we can’t change his words but we can use ours to be the alternate voice. To be a voice of hope and love. To bridge the divides created by others. To be inclusive and supportive. To stand up for what we believe in.

I live in Canada. He is not my leader. And yet I feel the need to be a part of this conversation. Words matter.

Art, oh joyous art! Where would I be without you in my life?

Art can transform my mood, carry me to another time or place, and provoke introspection. I know I’m not alone in these sentiments.

Last weekend I saw an exhibit at the Royal Alberta Museum which includes the artwork of Alex Janvier. Perhaps in Edmonton he is best known for the 45-foot diameter circular mosaic floor art in Rogers Place. But the exhibit at RAM includes a video in which he speaks of his experiences within residential schools. Janvier credits art as his only escape from the fear and losses he faced as a child. Stripped of his language and culture, he took refuge in the time spent drawing and painting.

On the same day I saw that exhibit, I also saw Ring of Fire at the Citadel. One of the lyrics of a Johnny Cash song – “singing seems to help a troubled soul” – reminded me of the sentiments expressed by Janvier: art as solace and escape.

Through the experience of art, we may find comfort, shift moods, or be challenged into a new way of thinking. Through the creation of art, we may learn to cope with reality, express ourselves, and tell our stories. The beauty is there is room in our world for each of these stories. Each can enrich our world. No two of us have the same story to express and no two of us will express our stories in precisely the same way.

Art, of course, comes in many forms: painting, sculpture, dance, music, literature, film, and photography to name a few. Regardless of form, its power is the same.

Writing is my art. I write to reflect and refine my thinking. I write to inform. I write to express frustration and uncover truth. Perhaps August Rodin said it best when it comes to art: “The main thing is to be moved, to love, to hope, to tremble, to live.”

Art transforms.

Last Thursday, I heard Oprah speak at Rogers Place. The topic: The Path Made Clear: Discovering Your Life’s Direction and Purpose echoing the title of her new book.

There’s no denying that Oprah is intelligent, funny, and inspiring. She is passionate about her own authentic purpose and encourages others to discover their own. How?

She talks about listening to our whispers: those inner thoughts revealing what is right for us in our lives. It doesn’t matter our circumstances, our previous experiences, our age, or status in life, we all have choices to make and whispers to guide us.

Many of her words resonated with me. I have chosen a few to share today: “Turn your wounds into wisdom.” “You are responsible for your life.” “Where there is no struggle, there is no strength.” “You become what you believe.”

Oprah strives to empower others. Isn’t that our role as teachers, too?