Just Keep Pedaling — Capacity Building as Teaching in the Time of Covid
*To note: the sound clips in this blog have been used with the permission of students and partners.
I pump my legs up and down, feet clipped in, no escape from the pedals moving round and round, sweat trickling down my brow, legs aching.
The stationary bike is set up in our cold, damp, unfinished basement. Surrounded by cement. There is hole in the concrete ground to my left with a sump pump fallen to one side. But I am thankful for this space and for this bike.
I am here because I can’t quiet my mind. Because after getting a Covid alert on my phone (after seeing vulnerable family members) I got tested and now I am waiting.. And I am overwhelmed with anxiety and guilt.
The problem with Covid is that you can’t escape it.
This is especially true for many of my students who work minimum wage jobs with no paid sick leave, and often have to choose between exposing themselves (and their families), or being evicted, or going hungry…or both.
And as I lean over the handlebars and push my legs as hard as I possibly can, a desperate attempt to avoid thinking about my test results, I am acutely aware of the cycle of guilt, anxiety and worry that many of my students face on daily basis, and I question whether my decision to engage my students in a class project to address challenges in the time of Covid is the right one.
It is the day after the storming of Capitol Hill by right-wing extremists. I have invited my friend, Erin Strachan, to speak to our class. Erin has travelled to 25 communities across Canada facilitating capacity building workshops with Indigenous communities and municipalities.
Her voice is calm and clear. It travels through the speakers on our devices and connects to each one of us.
“To me capacity building is seeing a problem in all its complexity, without fear… Having hope for the future…Leveling your determination against a problem. Getting the right people around a table and bringing the best out of everyone… It’s about ‘listening generously.’ Not only listening to what is being said, but listening to what is not being said…It’s not easy, I know…Ok, I’m going to tell you a story, and I might cry.”
Erin tells us a story about travelling to Baker Lake to run a pre-employment program. When she got there, she realized that the community needed more than training — they needed food.
“We had spent the day on a hunt as part of a community activity. Then we spent hours preparing for a community feast — got the caribou stripped and butchered, making broth for the stew. We had these huge cauldrons full of stew. You know, by the time the feast started, I was so hungry. I hadn’t had anything to eat in 12 hours. A community member put a cariboo rib on my plate towards the end of the feast and a little girl walked up to me and looked me straight in the eye and grabbed the rib off my plate — in that moment, I realized, oh my God, this community is starving. I kept thinking, something’s gotta change. This community needs a proper food bank. But there was no funding.”
Erin describes how she attended meetings with elders and community members to begin understanding issues and needs. She leveraged support from the local mine and received a grant of half a million dollars to put towards renovating a space and getting the food bank started.
“At one point, we had a space and construction supplies, but no one was there to help. We actually went down to the only store in the community and when we saw someone come in, we’d say, ‘What are you doing today?’ If they answered, ‘Nothing much,’ we would hand them a hammer and walk them over to the space.”
She hovers her cursor over a picture of two men smiling broadly, standing in front of a newly constructed shelving unit. “This guy, here, he didn’t know what he was doing, but he was our best volunteer — he ended up building this shelving.”
After weeks of wielding hammers and soliciting support, the food bank was ready to serve the community.
Erin pauses, listening to the silence of students on the other end of the Google Meet…
“… I can’t imagine what you guys are facing at the moment…Sometimes, it’s just hard to find hope. But focusing on what you can do and taking it one small step at a time can help.”
Erin logs off and I feel a profound shift in the energy. Despite not being in the same physical space, I can feel that there is more vulnerability, more openness. And students begin to discuss possibilities as well as challenges.
The day after Erin’s visit, we begin discussing the focus of our project. At this point, I am still unsure of whether to address challenges related to Covid. Maybe students are doing everything they can to think of something other than Covid. Maybe they are on their own own metaphorical bike, legs aching, sweat dripping, trying desperately to peddle away.
I take a moment to think things over. We could address some general themes related to challenges for individuals and families outlined in the HHS4U curriculum. But how do you talk in general terms about issues and challenges that students are actually facing?
I ask my students: “ I recognize that some of these challenges are issues that some of you are currently facing. The focus of this last unit is up to you. I know that addressing something you are living through can be triggering and unhelpful. My focus and priority is really on developing skills to enable you to take action on issues that matter to you.”
One student responds: “These issues are important. I think we need to take action on something that is important.”
I wait for a moment and listen for the silence(s). And there are some. But it is difficult to “hear” them through the computer. There are no visual clues — no agitations, downward gazes, energetic dips that can be read as markers of discomfort.
I send out a survey and pay particular attention to the responses from students who said very little: They want to go ahead with a project related to Covid. Even those who are experiencing issues firsthand. So we do.
We brainstorm a list of possible topics: Job loss. Depression. Mental illness. Unpaid sick days. Lack of affordable housing. Substance abuse. White privilege & systemic discrimination. Abuse. Covid evictions. The list is overwhelming and unending. We have exactly two and a half weeks to take action. Students decide they want to address Covid evictions.
I search my Google Drive for a “taking action” template created by Ian Bingeman of Youth Ottawa.
Students begin working with the template — researching the issue and its root causes.
At our next check-in, students discuss how one of the major causes of homelessness in Ottawa is a lack of affordable housing. Rental costs are climbing as developers buy up real estate in Ottawa’s centre. While the federal government’s Rapid Housing Initiative will add a 109 affordable housing units to the city, 12,500 households are on the affordable housing waitlist (City of Ottawa Report on Shelter Use). They also learn that the number of people sleeping outside since the start of the pandemic has doubled. In June 2020, it was estimated that between 2–6% of Ottawa renters were unable to pay and were at risk of eviction (Alliance to End Homelessness, 2021).
While the provincial government passed a new temporary eviction ban, the ban is only slowing the process. Landlords can still issue eviction notices. Without a moratorium on eviction until Covid is over, and without support to pay rent arrears, thousands will be evicted (Parkdale Organize).
In a phone call with Kaite Burkholder Harris, Executive Director of The Alliance, our class learns that this also has implications for public health. “Shelters are over capacity, people are not able to distance or maintain Covid safety protocols without a home — it’s like we are standing on a Covid eviction cliff, and no one seems to care” (Katie Burkholder-Harris, January 2021).
Students begin to make connections between the impacts of housing policy and other governmental policies. Covid and Covid evictions have disproportionately impacted racialized communities. They discuss how one thing that Covid has made abundantly clear is that white supremacy pervades our systems, snaking its way through institutions and policies, sewing inequities into the fabric of our society.
We continue to refine our goals — unsure of which aspect to tackle, whether we have time to to so, what approach to take. We know that we can’t end homelessness or systemic discrimination, but we can bring attention to the issues.
Lack of PPE available is also impacting the spread of Covid among the street community. We get in touch with an organization called The World Wide Hearing Foundation — they send us 300 masks to distribute to the Salvation Army Outreach Program.
A couple of students want to find out more about how the issue affects the students in our class. They survey the students. 40 % of students in our class have had to choose between paying rent and eating.
We decide to use student stories as the focus for a social media campaign. Students work on a logo and twitter account @EEliminationOtt (Eviction Elimination).
We reach out to Cam Jones from Experiential Learning, who connects us to Jesse Card, Deputy Executive Director of Youth Ottawa to help us create a video that brings awareness to the issue. We also start exploring the possibility of writing a song to go with the video.
We connect with Craig Cardiff, Juno nominated singer-songwriter, and begin working on lyrics and melodies.
Craig asks students to write verses that reflect their personal experiences of eviction. The chorus, “Eviction, eviction, always on my mind. Can’t work, can’t afford to get sick,” is co-written by a student named Hassan who contracted Covid and quarantined for three weeks. Unable to work, he borrowed money from a predatory lender and now in debt.
Hassan reflects on his experience: “This problem of eviction happens not only to those who are unemployed, but even to those like I and my roommates, and many Canadians who work full time and yet they face the same issue.”
Over the course of the songwriting process, I learn more about other students in this class. About their struggles, their strengths, their individual circumstances.
One student records their part of the song from the Covid wing of the men’s shelter. Space (and silences) are opened up through the music. Voices become clear. Heard. And despite our physical distance, we become closer.
Jesse Card from Youth Ottawa works with a group of students make a music video to go along with the song. He coaches students on how to create a shotlist and on how to record footage that brings the song to life.
After two and a half weeks of listening, sharing, responding, and creating, we are ready to speak — we invite Joel Harden, our MPP for Ottawa Centre, to hear student stories and preview our music video before its release.
Habtamu, in charge of social media, introduces our project —
Students share their stories of eviction —
We play our song and music video for Joel…
“I’m blown away by this project…So, what’s next?”
After Joel logs off we think about his question.
“If our stories were heard in mainstream media, they would could have an impact,” reflects one student.
On January 29th, 2021, the one year anniversary of the City of Ottawa’s declaration of a housing emergency, we post our music video.
As the music video goes live. We watch and share and listen to other stories posted on Twitter. We tweet and retreat.
“I can’t believe we did this,” one student says.
“It looks and sounds great,” says another.
The video is posted to the OCDSB’s Youtube Channel, and is watched and shared with educators and the public.
After our day of action, our giddiness subsides and we return to Joel’s question.
What is next?
We aren’t sure. Maybe we continue lobbying for an eviction ban. Maybe we narrow our focus and work towards supporting students in our class, or our school, who are currently facing eviction. Maybe we do both. My hope is that whichever direction we choose, we take what we have learned and build on it — bridge our learning with new projects and carry the lessons forward so we can change the world for the better.
Students reflect on their learning
I’ve always struggled with teamwork, and this project helped immensely… Even in my activism, the teamwork is different than that experienced in the classroom.
I learned how to utilize my words about the trauma i faced to help people. It felt really good to have that politician come in and speak to us, but also listen to us. That was important to me.
I realized how much of an impact we could make if our stories were used in mainstream media.
I think [sharing my story helped] my classmates to feel comfortable to be open about their experiences dealing with eviction and homelessness. I know I felt supported a whole lot.
I learned about advocacy…and networking…Using people in the community to assist with what your doing.
[This project] made me want to get more involved in activism.
I’m back on the bike, two and a half weeks later, but this time I’m not trying to escape. My test results have come back negative and I’m feeling an immediate sense of relief. I put in my earbuds and relax into a steady pace.
Barack Obama’s Promised Land plays as I pump my legs up and down, sweat dripping down my temples, and I listen as he describes a workshop he facilitated on the South Side of Chicago:
“I asked them to describe their word as it was and as it they would like it to be…A way to bridge the reality of their communities and their lives with the things they could conceivably change.”
I think about this, the world as it is and the world as it should be, as it relates to teaching in the time of Covid. And how this project has helped me to bridge my current reality with a future possibility.
Education in the time of Covid presents numerous challenges for students and teachers, but it also creates opportunities for growth and change.
Yes, course design has to be accessible to in-class and online cohorts, and with so many pivots it would be easy to fall back on the banking model of education — to give students only what they need (basic course content) and not worry about the skills they might require in the future.
But what if these limitations allow us to let go of the “content” and focus on context and the skills needed to address it (collaborative inquiry, creative & critical thinking, networking, recognizing and utilizing the strengths and skills of each individual at the table, understanding the power of speaking one’s truth & the impact of personal narrative in advocacy)?
Capacity building is daunting, but it is really just about getting people around a table (virtual or other) and working together to solve a problem.
As teachers we don’t have to do everything. In fact, we shouldn’t. We should listen generously and then amplify the voices of our students. When we focus on capacity building rather than on teaching, the possible becomes real. Bridging reality with possibility in the time of Covid means capacity building in the classroom.
