There is so very, very much about this year that is so different, so strange, so foreign.
And yet, all of that change has only served to highlight the things that remain steadfast and sure.
It is 8:00 pm on the first day of school with children in attendance.
I am exhausted.
So much about today was different, foreign, awkward:
- Lining the kiddos up along 6-foot spaced dots
- Seeing all my loveys from the face masks up
- Slow traffic into the building as kids hand-san on the way in
- Kids staying in their room for recess. For lunch. For art. For music.
Its strange and eerie how all of our back-to-school videos and pep talks are all about social distancing and mask wearing and hand-washing.
It’s sad that after years of pursuing a “less me, more you” approach to student-centered learning, we are now in the midst of a structure that requires so much more teacher-centric direction. It’s not best practice as we know it, and I’m not sure what to do with all of that. I mourn this loss.
Amid all of this strangeness that’s alternately saddening and discouraging, what is it that remains steadfast and true? Here’s a start:
- My cheeks were still sore this morning from smiling at all of the kids and families as I greeted them on their way in to school.
- My colleagues were right back on their game, starting right in with get-to-know-you activities and routines.
- Kids still came in at all the many levels of excitement and nervousness, with all of the honeymoon-like behavior that accompanies the first days of school.
But here’s what’s at the heart of things. Here’s a tiny bit of what makes me confident that we’ll be okay this year, despite everything being turned upside down.
If anything, this situation has more firmly committed us to the belief that our work is 90% social and emotional. Only when we take care of the humans in front of us can we begin the work of academics. This year gives us the permission to live that philosophy in truth.
Even though the world conspires to rob us of community (social distancing, masks, decreased interaction, remote learning, lack of human contact), my colleagues and I will STILL manage to create caring, tight-knit bonds because that is our superpower. That is what we do.
It’s what we always do.
It’s why teaching is our calling.
It’s what’s going to get us through what promises to be the most difficult year of our careers.
Buckle up, my friends.