Last July, working under the theme, “Teaching and Writing for Joy,” BLTN teachers from each campus prompted one another to write about the joy they had found in the 2021-22 school year, or the joy they were finding during summer study. This piece samples those posts from BreadWeb, Bread Loaf’s social network. In a lovely post about students conspiring to surprise and honor award-winning teachers, Amanda Donovan notes that the operation created “some serious joy.” We hope you’ll be inspired by these BLTNers’ serious efforts to maintain spaces for the joys of levity, play, creativity, and accomplishment in their students’ and their own learning.

Joy in California

Joy in Oxford

Lauren Jewett

On Wednesday, Bread Loaf Oxford students went to Stratford-upon-Avon to attend the all school play, Richard III, performed by the Royal Shakespeare Company. Many of us arrived at Stratford several hours early, providing the opportunity to explore, maybe feed some swans, and see parts of town where Shakespeare was born. The only thing I planned for the day other than the play was to visit the Stratford Butterfly Garden, which was naturally a delight. On my way out from leaving the butterfly exhibit, I ran into one of my classmates, Mariella, who said she was thinking about going to see the butterflies. We both looked over in the direction of the magnificent Ferris wheel, its height towering over River Avon, touristy shops, and pastoral lands of grazing cows. “I am on my way to go ride the Ferris wheel,” I said. Mariella joined, expressing her personal love of Ferris wheels. “I can go see the butterflies after the Ferris wheel,” she said.

After the Ferris wheel ride, we walked across near the bridge to the other side of the street, saw a sign reading “Row Boats Adults- 8 pounds,” and on a whim, decided to pay the entry fee. We each gingerly made our way into the row boat. Mariella sat in the steering section, a bench covered in red paint chipped and faded from many boat rides in the sun, and I sat in the middle, trying to situate unwieldy and cumbersome oars in a comfortable manner. The employee at the dock asked if we needed a tutorial. We vigorously nodded our heads. Despite the tutorial, Mariella and I navigated the row boat around in circles along the River Avon for the next hour, switching the rowing and steering responsibilities, trying to avoid collision with the nature preserve of swans and the fleet of fast approaching motor boats on the river. Thanks to Mariella, who had some personal rowing experiences from college, we were not entirely directionless. I am sure we still looked aimless to onlookers walking over the bridge and even more incompetent to the employee from Avon Boating, who floated over twice to assist us, but we took absolute delight in the laughs and silliness of this unplanned adventure.

Despite the tutorial, Mariella and I navigated the row boat around in circles along the River Avon for the next hour, switching the rowing and steering responsibilities, trying to avoid collision with the nature preserve of swans and the fleet of fast approaching motor boats on the river.

Lauren Jewett

Joy in Vermont

Anna Russell Thornton

(COVID) Positive 

For the last three days, I have lived by my window, the second-floor window overlooking the road between Cherry and the Annex. More than one person has made a Rear Window joke, but I think it’s more like Rapunzel in her tower. It’s less creepy that way. (Right?)

SCENE: A woman sits on her bed, which has been rearranged to mimic a couch. Her arm rests on the bed frame, and she gazes out the window. You get the sense she’s been there a while. Suddenly, she rolls over and hangs her head upside down off the edge of her bed. She hangs there a moment. Slowly, she slides off the bed onto the floor, one vertebrae at a time. 

That’s how I expected my COVID isolation to go. And I have discovered all sorts of ways to stand and sit and recline and dance inside the walls of my room. But what I did not expect, what has absolutely floored me, is the care I have experienced from fellow Bread Loafers.

A knock on the door jolts her from her languor. She leaps to her feet and sheepishly hunts for her double masks. She hooks them over her ears before opening the door. The door opens again and again, revealing at her feet: a plate of breakfast food. A cup of mint tea. A cup of ice. A bag of trail mix. An orange. A plum. A hydrangea stem in water. An envelope marked “For class tomorrow!” A letterpress print. A drawing of a flower.

Sustenance comes in all forms. My “food buddies” have kept me fed and watered and my hallmates have checked in, acting as emissaries of the outside world. Professors and classmates have creatively included me with an “of course!” kind of attitude that has humbled and grounded me. One classmate FaceTimed me so I could help plan a small group scene, and for the performance, one of the actors held my floating head against her chest to represent her character’s internal thoughts. Multi-modal indeed!

She closes the door and drapes herself over the head of her bedframe, turning her gaze out the window again. This time, sound floats up from the grass below. Greetings of all kinds. “There she is!” “How’re you feeling?” A duet about apples. Guitars strumming “Bobby McGee.” Offers of poetry and flash mobs and watercolors. Her name.

I wish everyone could be surrounded by English teachers (by trade or in spirit) when they’re sick.

FIN.

I wish everyone could be surrounded by English teachers… when they’re sick.

Anna Russell Thornton

From BreadWeb: Cross-Campus Posts

Kayla Hostetler

Excerpt: Read the full text of Kayla’s post here.
Returning to a full in-person school year after two years of virtual and hybrid learning came with many difficulties. I knew that the year would be hard. I intentionally decided to make a commitment to students to have more “play” in my classes.
***

One of my favorite units for my seniors was Pride and Prejudice. During this unit, we learned to waltz as a bell-ringer. We learned a lot of the customs for courting during the time period. I found a simple “How to Waltz” video on Youtube. They picked partners quickly. I had another teacher step-in to be my partner (conveniently, my husband teaches math at my school). We all watched the Youtube tutorial and waltzed. We laughed. It was fun and it was simple.

***

 As many people know, our school has had back-to-back tragedies. These moments of joy are what keep me going. If you have not thought about planning intentional play in your courses, even the AP/College Courses, I strongly encourage you to do this. It has made a difference in all of my classes. The students do not fight the harder writing assignments because they know that later there will be play.

These moments of joy are what keep me going.

Kayla Hostetler

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Samantha Harlow

This year my small, rural Vermont school had three pep rallies – one each season – and the themes were “Let it Glow” (dayglow outfits and glow sticks psyched up our soccer teams), “Let it Snow” (Frozen themed and showcasing the theater arts students), and “Let it Grow” (growing our kindness for each other highlighted our volunteerism). Our teams are not always super competitive and our co-curricular offerings are limited, but this year’s student council was dedicated to these efforts to show off not only our sports teams, but all the different things that our students do in our community and the community at large.

Each time we sat in the darkened gym and waited for different groups to burst forth in the spotlight and listen to the cheers of their peers, and each time big, wet tears welled in my eyes thinking of how excited and proud the students were in these moments of community recognition and celebration.

Each time we sat in the darkened gym and waited for different groups to burst forth in the spotlight and listen to the cheers of their peers, and each time big, wet tears welled in my eyes thinking of how excited and proud the students were in these moments of community recognition and celebration.

Samantha Harlow

Veronica Foster

Being at Bread Loaf always reminds me how much buzzy joy there is in sitting in a circle with smart people and talking through something complicated. I live for the days when my brain feels “on,” when the energy in class is palpable, and when I leave feeling like I’ve been somewhere new. I’m not always successful at creating this same feeling for high schoolers (choosing texts they will buy into is a huge part of the equation!), but it does happen. I was rereading some end of year surveys from my senior AP Lit class this year and so many of them mentioned as a favorite activity “circle time with Beloved.” Circle time was just us sitting in a circle, coming up with and answering questions about a text that is tough tough tough but so rich. One student wrote that talking about the book this way “made her feel smart,” and that’s a feeling I want to cultivate in ALL my students. I want them to be really familiar with the in-between feeling of not having clear answers and the joy of embracing that uncertainty in community.

I want them to be really familiar with the in-between feeling of not having clear answers and the joy of embracing that uncertainty in community.

Veronica Foster

Whitney Morgan

This year, I tried to modify a literature circle approach where students chose an aspect of identity they wanted to explore and then worked with others in a thematic grouping, each with their own chosen narrative text that too explored their given topic in some way. Figuring out alongside students how to have discussions, write, and learn together when each member had a different text but were all exploring a common topic was destabilizing in a really fun way! Figuring out together what different narratives and styles thematically conveyed about a common topic brought so much depth and nuance to what they were exploring. Our trusty librarian helped our thematic reading groups create digital student-curated collections around each topic with their own synopses, critiques, and reviews. Students really began to help co-design the class and learning and lean on one another throughout the process. Joy in collaboration! 

I wish I’d taken more pictures, but here’s a picture of some pictures! Each time a student got a new book, they’d get a polaroid with it. Throughout the unit, their polaraids were moved about with writings and notes and representations their groups would create and post on walls and respond to with sticky notes. Making learning visible! Another mini-joy was students begging for the day they could take home their photos with their books. Another nother mini-joy was student shock and awe at the magic of polaroids 🙂

Students really began to help co-design the class and learning and lean on one another throughout the process. Joy in collaboration! 

Whitney Morgan

Colin Baumgartner

I have some particularly fond memories as a learner. I decided to take a philosophy class during the summer one year and it was taught by a really passionate grad student who was extremely knowledgeable about the local community & did a great job of making big, abstract ideas something very much grounded in personal experience and story. We always met outside, the six of us sitting in the grass in a shady grove of trees on campus. One of the things that I struggle with is how literally disconnected from the world the classroom can feel. Between being outside–feeling the wind and hearing the birds in the trees–and participating in engaging and stimulating conversations, I felt a great deal of joy digging into new ideas and hearing from new people.

Between being outside–feeling the wind and hearing the birds in the trees–and participating in engaging and stimulating conversations, I felt a great deal of joy digging into new ideas and hearing from new people.

Colin Baumgartner

Elizabeth Farrow

This year I piloted my LGBTQ Voices English elective, and there was joy and solidarity in our literary community. I loved to see my students’ delight in finding a relatable character or an affirming mirror in an independent reading book. It warmed my heart when buzz built around a particular title and it was passed hand to hand with anticipation. ❤️

It warmed my heart when buzz built around a particular title and it was passed hand to hand with anticipation.

Elizabeth Farrow

Kurt Ostrow

They wore sweatbands around their heads and wrists. Z. (pink) and H. (yellow) stretched in the classroom, ran in place, and trash talked each other. For my first short story in our graduate fiction workshop, I’d decided to have my classmates pair off to debate its merits: characterization, plot, narrative techniques, ethics. It wasn’t how workshop typically ran. Isaiah—a high school debater, also queer, and a new dear friend—took the experiment deadly serious. I tried to take notes as he defended my protagonist Will, speeding through his argument, but mostly I laughed too hard to bother. H. also made excellent points: Will needed interiority, Will’s ex needed backstory. I took more notes. H. is queer, our professor’s queer—almost the entire class. One student baked a weekly snack and returned her comments to us in wax-sealed envelopes. Another bantered with the professor about their mutual “Tauran energy.” That’s not how a classroom typically works.

I tried to take notes as he defended my protagonist Will, speeding through his argument, but mostly I laughed too hard to bother.

Kurt Ostrow

Amanda Donovan

Excerpt: Read the full text of Amanda’s post here.

So much joy came out of our three-day “Operation Pineapple Juice” earlier this year. My homeroom class of 7th graders and I planned a surprise pizza party to celebrate awards that were given to the other teachers in our homeroom. The students in my class took on various roles to plan and carry out our surprise operation, and it created some serious joy throughout the whole process. What was cool was that different students took on different jobs depending on what they felt confident doing. We had playlist creators, invitation makers, stealthy information-getters (who asked the teachers what their favorite kind of pizza is), poster designers, slide-show creators and presenters, and most importantly, “lookout people” who stood in the hallway and yelled “pineapple juice!” into the classroom if any of the other teachers looked like they were about headed our way.

What was cool was that different students took on different jobs depending on what they felt confident doing.

Amanda Donovan

Rabiah Khalil

From blocks of wood my younger brother fashions chairs. Limewood, teakwood, maple, oak. Each wood of a different fragrance and grain. He fashions chairs with spindly lattice work like homemade apple pies. Chairs with backs inspired by the silk hand-fans of Chinese maidens in the imperial palace. Each chair emerging from my brother’s imagining of it. His hands guided by vision and devotion. Each chair useful and beautiful. I do not know how to build a chair, but I think of my brother when I see students building ideas. Those ideas may begin with an old log—pockmarked from beetles and softened by fungi. However, it is never long before students see what they can construct from that old log. They tinker until something useful and beautiful emerges. That is what gives me joy. I hear my students’ voices now as I am typing. I am smiling as I remember the joy I experienced watching them build their own furniture, sand it smooth, and then flourish stain and lacquer.  

They tinker until something useful and beautiful emerges. That is what gives me joy.

Rabiah Khalil

Erin Tabor

I struggled to get kids conversing with each other at the beginning of the year because they had 1.5 years of not really talking to their classmates. So the progress I saw in their interest and ability to dialogue brought me joy.

One moment that stands out for me this year is a chalk talk activity I did with Gatsby. I took the kids outside, and the weather was fantastic. One of the questions I asked on chart paper ended up with a crowd of students around it. I asked them to rank who was most to least responsible for Myrtle’s death (Gatsby, Daisy, Myrtle, Wilson). Seeing them all crowded around, agreeing and disagreeing, changing their minds, including nuanced and complex points, made me joyful!

Seeing them all crowded around, agreeing and disagreeing, changing their minds, including nuanced and complex points, made me joyful!

Erin Tabor

Sara Taggart

Excerpt: Read the full text of Sara’s post here.

I have recent memories of joy that are funny to me because they are distinct in environment. This year, I returned to using Sustained Silent Reading (SSR) in the classroom. It actually replaced my long-term novel study. I feel a little bad about it, but we were running out of time, everyone was tired, and I wanted the students to have more voice in their reading choices and a chance to get back into the joy of reading. Some of my best days were the ones where I realized that it was working. I would look up from working with someone or checking on something, and there they were…. just reading. It’s never quiet in my classroom, as we are in a giant open space with another class and 5 classrooms that have doors from my room. There is always someone going in and out. But at those SSR times, our space was an island of peace. My contrasting memory of joy from this past year is when my students were working on a mock trial, especially when joining with the other class. It was so joyful to see students getting out of their COVID shells and talking with others, working academically. That was loud joy. I know the kids felt joy with it, too, because I would hear from other teachers how engrossed they were in the project. You know you’re doing something worthwhile when it extends beyond your classroom walls (figuratively speaking, in my case!).

It’s never quiet in my classroom, as we are in a giant open space with another class and 5 classrooms that have doors from my room. There is always someone going in and out. But at those SSR times, our space was an island of peace.

Sara Taggart

Dani Sorrells

Excerpt: Read the full text of Dani’s post here.

Our class of 15 truly uplifted and encouraged everyone in a very genuine way throughout the year. They grasped onto new material and flourished in conversation. This was my very first year teaching AP and it could not have gone better, though I felt very inept at the time. 

Joy in that class was tangible. Constant smiles, laughter, discussion, and more. Each student could lightheartedly pick at each other, but they were also fiercely protective over each other’s feelings – as well as mine! I’ll never forget an instance when several of them were gathered around a desk, ferociously scrubbing it, trying to not let me see what was going on. What they didn’t know was that I had already seen the vulgar “F&@! you Mrs. Sorrells!” sprawled across it earlier in the day, written by a bitter freshman who didn’t get his way. Joy was walking in each day feeling the mutual respect and kindness we all had for each other.

Joy was walking in each day feeling the mutual respect and kindness we all had for each other.

Dani Sorrells

Yaneris Collado

As a teacher, joy looks like students nodding “Aha, I get it now, miss, wow!” after struggling for weeks with comprehension. It feels like school spirit and community, where students can’t wait to graduate but know they’ll never live this moment again, so they hold on for dear life.

As a student, joy sounds like my teacher telling me, “you exceeded my expectations with this assignment” or “I knew you could do it.” It sounds like my favorite lo-fi playlist bumping as I type my assignment up all night. Sounds like, “I did that!”

As a teacher, joy feels productive and vulnerable; it feels like the safe space I provided has become the fruits of my labor. Feels like love. My heart is whole here, and my students are secure.

As a teacher, joy feels productive and vulnerable; it feels like the safe space I provided has become the fruits of my labor.

Yaneris Collado

Andrew Marchesani

This year, while working with my English Learners, I did a unit on podcasts. First, I guided the class through studying podcasts and some of the common vocabulary and techniques: cold open, intro, sound effects, and interview. We listened to three examples, including one episode of The Daily called “The Dreams We Had Are Like A Dream” that was really relevant for the Afghan girls in my class and moving for all of us. 

But the really joyful part came when I asked them to create their own podcast. First they scripted, then they recorded. Recording day was amazing. It was so fun to hear my students being creative and being brave in a second language. The classroom was absolutely buzzing. It felt both silly and serious at the same time – especially the two boys who were commentating on a Kabul soccer match in 2050. 

I could tell students were letting their guards down with each other. There was a real sense of play in the classroom. And it was hard for me to tear myself away from each small group once I poked my head in on their recording session.

I could tell students were letting their guards down with each other. There was a real sense of play in the classroom.

Andrew Marchesani

Jacob Belvery

My daughter, Nora, is 14 months old. She started walking at around 11 months, which is early, but not extraordinary or anything. Anyway, during the school year, I was usually the one who would get up with Nora in the morning. It made sense for me to just get up, feed her and myself, and it allowed my wife to sleep a few minutes longer (all moms know the value of a little extra sleep).

Nora and I quickly settled into a routine of getting up, eating breakfast, and getting ready for the day. For me, getting ready was mostly about getting dressed and making coffee. For Nora, getting ready was all about getting into every little thing around our apartment. As she got older, and her mobility increased from crawling to walking, the amount of time I spent chasing her around grew exponentially. It was especially tedious as my daughter had developed a love for destroying paperback books, and my wife and I, both being English teachers, have a TON of books.

Anyway, as the chasing around grew, so did my morning frustrations. It was just a lot to deal with first thing in the morning. However, there was one day in May that I got my daughter from her crib, put her on the floor of her nursery, and walked away from her so that I could go start coffee (her nursery was right next to the kitchen). As I stood at the coffee machine, waiting for it to dispense its ambrosia, I looked over to see my daughter walking into the kitchen and chanting, “Dad, dad, dad, dad, dad, dad” as she toddled up to me with a huge grin on her face. Talk about unexpected joy. Nothing makes you happy at 6 AM like your little girl toddling along chanting your name.

What had been becoming an onerous chore to look after her in the morning became a delight. Those morning moments with my daughter are some of my fondest memories of her early life so far. It is a quiet, joyous time for us where she giggles, chants my names, pelts me with scrambled eggs, and destroys my paperbacks. She’s just being a baby and I am just being her dad.