By Robbie Pennoyer, Assistant Head of School, Director of Studies
Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea
But sad mortality o’er-sways their power,
How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,
Whose action is no stronger than a flower?
–from Shakespeare’s Sonnet 65
My last class before Spring Break wrapped up a few hours ago. By some measures, it was like every other class in “Poetry and Faith,” the elective I teach each spring to juniors and seniors in the high school division. We greeted one another; I took attendance; we read and discussed a poem; students shared insightful analysis, asked poignant questions, and provoked bursts of laughter. But one thing made the class different from every other: my students were all at home, and our class was meeting, through Zoom, in a virtual classroom.
With the spread of the coronavirus adding uncertainty about what lies beyond Spring Break—and with Grace wanting to do its part to flatten the curve and slow the virus’s spread—we canceled classes yesterday so that the faculty could spend a day preparing for the possibility of a prolonged period of school closure. I sat in on several team meetings, as teachers strategized and traded tips for “distance learning.” How I wish our students could have joined us—not, as I’ll forgive you for assuming, dear reader, because we needed digital natives to teach old dogs new tricks; we have experts enough in our midst for that. No, I wish they could have joined us to see my brilliant, creative, inspiring colleagues exhibiting exactly the sort of can-do attitude we seek to nurture in our students.
I read once that the best predictor of student success and flourishing in schools isn’t their average class size, the number of books in the library, the student-teacher ratio, or the standardized test scores of incoming students. According to the researchers at Independent School Management, Inc., the best predictors for student achievement have nothing directly to do with the students at all but with their teachers. It’s the presence of a growth-oriented faculty culture. It’s teacher effectiveness and a healthy sense of community among a school’s adults that drive student success and satisfaction. Yesterday, Grace’s faculty culture was on glorious display. With its mix of collaboration, dedication, humor, and kindness and with my colleagues’ balance of humility and expertise, it was extraordinary to witness. Today, with every child from JK–12 participating in Zoom classes, students have tasted the first fruits of the faculty’s efforts to prepare for the unknown that awaits us on the other side of Spring Break.
No distance learning plan will feel like a fair substitute for school. So much of the magic of Grace depends upon the alchemy that arises from talented teachers and motivated students being present together: the casual friction of interactions in the halls; the crowds that gather to cheer on friends; the learning that can’t take place while seated before a laptop. But for as long as we need to we will find a way to make this work—to be Grace and to do school, even if we’re doing so from home. Today’s experiments in Zoom were a promising start.
The poem we read in class today was Shakespeare’s Sonnet 65. In it, the speaker looks around at everything he’s taken for granted, everything he’s assumed will stay just the way it always has, and he sees with no small measure of fear and anxiety that it’s all more fragile than he might typically care to realize: “[R]ocks impregnable are not so stout, / Nor gates of steel so strong, but time decays.” The first dozen lines of the sonnet are questions about how, when faced with a threatening future, something as fragile as beauty or love can survive. The final couplet offers the sonnet itself as a tentative answer—“that in black ink my love may still shine bright”—familiar from similar poems about the ravages of time. What makes the couplet credible is the sonnet as a whole, its sonic beauty, its profound and tender questions. The poem asks: “How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea, / Whose action is no stronger than a flower?” And in its asking, the gorgeous question provides its own answer: that something about love grows sturdier, immortal even, when it’s translated into perfect art.
The love that the Grace faculty brings each day to their classrooms—which they then translate into creative, effective, and supportive teaching—lodges in the lives of our students and shapes them in small but sturdy ways. That love is on vibrant display every day here at school. And it will be there when we gather with our students in online classrooms. And it will be there when we get the word that it’s time to come back to school.
In the meantime, I send my prayers and best wishes for a safe Spring Break.