It was like going back in time, albeit only two months ago. With permission, I went back to my classroom to grab some supplies for distance learning. The cupboards displayed orange-bearded leprechauns and my door was decorated with green lucky shamrocks. It had been two months since our “two-week” quarantine started and the room looked as if I had retreated minutes before the arrival of an enemy army.
In a way, that’s what my students and I did. Only the invader was a microscopic virus.
As an elementary teacher, the school year usually ends with fond goodbyes and happy well wishes for an enjoyable summer. Teachers and students joyfully count down to the final minute of the last day. The end of the year is a celebration of accomplishments and academic growth. Sometimes there are years when the end can’t come soon enough. The days slog by like a march to the guillotine. However, both scenarios have one thing in common: closure.
But not this year.
So many students at all levels of education have missed out on memories and milestones. Proms, graduations, and the spring sport seasons to name a few. At the elementary level, our 5th graders won’t get a traditional culmination and the kindergartners will miss their annual Broadway-esque performance and party. Tragically, there has been tremendous loss of life and the effects on our economy and workforce are staggering. But COVID-19 has also taken away so much when it comes to education.
As a teacher I’m feeling the loss of a traditional ending to the school year. How much differently would that last Friday have looked had I known we wouldn’t be returning? Would we have played more or celebrated our “two-thirds” year of school? As of now, we have three weeks of remote learning left in the year. Somehow saying, “have a good summer” over Zoom isn’t going to cut it.
Back in March, educators across the country were thrust into the world of distance teaching. Principals and administrators had to get computer devices to families that lacked technology. District’s bigwigs had to figure out how to feed children who depend on eating at school. Initially, when faced with only a two-week holding pattern, I tried to keep some semblance of normalcy. I assigned regular work in all subjects, knowing that state testing was looming once we returned. It was hard to know how much to assign. Was it enough for the sharp kids? Was it too much for those who struggle? How would my students’ parents do while trying to work from home and take care of other children who also had their own remote-learning assignments? I told everyone to do his or her best, not to stress out, and we’ll play catch up after we return. Heck, two-weeks is shorter that our winter break.
Then when the quarantine was extended indefinitely and state testing was nixed, I had to shift gears altogether. Suddenly it wasn’t about staying sharp for testing. The plane was landing and my students have to continue to get ready for 4th grade. This wasn’t a hiatus; this was a new normal of trying to teach what I hadn’t yet covered and what I needed to reinforce … from home.
The kitchen table became my desk and my learning curve began. While still juggling student workload issues and parental limitations I, and thousands of other teachers, had to figure out numerous educational online platforms. I had to learn how to use online meeting websites and a virtual classroom. Webinars became lunch companions. I’ve never been a big YouTuber, except for watching Holderness Family videos, but now YouTube is my best friend.
In a way, distance teaching reminded me of my first year as an educator when the position was mentally all-consuming. Every waking moment was spent thinking about how to do this job. Twenty years later, I found myself back in a similar situation. To a somewhat lesser degree, once again, I was consumed with thinking, worrying, and wondering about how to do my job.
On the other hand, I’ve enjoyed parts of the process. I’ve always wanted to learn things like Google Classroom. But now I was forced to do so. A school year is as busy and as frantic as the Indy 500. Sometimes one more piece of paperwork can feel like a high-speed blowout. Vacations and days off are just pit stops. You can refuel and change the tires, but not overhaul the engine. Covid-19 necessitated me to redo the transmission, so to speak. It’s exciting to have not just a newfound understanding of technology, but also the experience and a plan on how to use it in the future.
I’ve also been seriously impressed with student’s and parent’s abilities to cope and adapt. I didn’t learn to type until high school. Nowadays, eight and nine year olds are crafting multi-paragraph essays on Chrome books, creating online slideshows, and learning through video conferences.
The month of May is usually my favorite time at school. The instant-pot-like pressure of testing has been released and students get to work on Open House projects to showcase what they’ve learned. In June we end the year with a whole-grade-level Field Day of competitive events and a pizza party. Right now, I’m not sure how to make the end of the year special and memorable. I want to celebrate what my 24 kiddos have achieved and accomplished. I want to honor their perseverance and adaptability. I don’t know if the students feel this way, but I need closure.
I’ve got a few days to come up with a plan. Maybe I’ll start by asking the students what they want. Or I could do a search on YouTube. But only after watching one more Holderness video.
