It’s late Monday night. I’ve tossed and turned and cannot seem to slow the pace of my mind enough to drift off to sleep. This is so not like me. I’m usually in bed by 9:30 most nights, as soon as my head hits the pillow after a full day of teaching.
So much of this life as a teacher is nothing like it was 3 weeks ago. Wow...3 weeks, has it really been three weeks already?!! Crazy, it was really just three weeks ago that I lie awake, my chest tight with worry and guilt about how rushed the day seemed with my kindergarteners. My last day with my students before our school shut their doors was sadly a scattered mess of paper packets and a mad rush to load bookmarks and logins to student chromebooks. I sent those little 5 and 6 year olds out the door with a weighted down backpack and more questions than answers, fighting back tears of my own.
“When will we be back Mrs. Hutchings? Why are you sending these workbooks home today? We still have so many pages left to do.” Any of you that are parents or work with young children know this, sometimes all you can do is smile and assure their sweet baby faces that it will be okay, even when all the chaos and uncertainties around you make even just smiling an effort. That was a tough day.
Three weeks later, not a lot has changed. We are still separated from our students. The school parking lots are empty and the playgrounds closed by lock and key. Everything seemingly so empty and left behind. Our days are now filled with emails, google hangouts, logins and passwords and SO. MUCH. SCREEN TIME. Yet, spring has still arrived, the sun is shining, and the birds have started their chirping inviting us to outside places. Places we usually go to play with our friends at parks and places we go for early morning coffee chats before the sun comes up. But we stay close to home, playing in backyards and driveways and facetime our friends to find out what they are having for lunch.
The first few days after school closed, I'm not sure my teacher mind had quite understood what was really going on. I think at times we just go into crisis mode, adrenaline kicks in and we just get done what we need to get done. Teachers have become experts at that over the years. But as the days have passed and the dust has settled a little, the reality and the implications of this situation is becoming more clear. Although the state of Iowa has not yet closed for the remainder of the school year, this is something we are facing. There is a really good possibility that we have already had our last day of the school year with our students.
Many people in our country are experiencing deep painful loss and grief, anxiety and fear right now. So it feels kinda strange to be naming the loss we are feeling as teachers and students. But in an effort to not minimize my own feelings of loss and those of my dear colleagues and students, here is where my teacher heart is at tonight.
I'm sad, sad for the butterflies that we won't be watching hatch together and for the questions that won't be asked. I'm sad about the hugs and high fives we aren't able to give and the laughs that aren't filling our classrooms. I'm sad to not hear all those happy feet skipping down the hallway out to recess. But most of all, I think I'm missing the joy and rewards that April brings to my classroom. All teachers know that the real magic of all your blood, sweat and tears of the year happens during this little happy place in time. It's called March and April. It's this little window of time that things really just start to flow. Routines become habits, lessons come alive and your classmates become like family. Now May gets here and things get a bit crazy as we all know, but this time in the classroom together is extra sweet. Everything comes together and we get to celebrate with our students how far they have come and look back at all the hurdles we have jumped together. And we are missing it. And it's sad. It's okay to be sad about it. It is our little piece of grief in this pandemic. It's okay to let yourself be sad when something is lost.
Being sad about something isn't a sign of weakness. It is actually just an opportunity for us to walk the walk we talk every day in our classrooms. Our students know that academics are important to their teachers, but they also have been learning that without social emotional learning, everything else falls apart. We ourselves are in a time of learning and growing too. So hang in there friend and take care of yourself. Go for a walk or run. Read. Call someone you are missing. Play with your kids. Sit outside and listen to how happy the birds are to be awake.
Love and hugs. Virtual ones of course. :)
So much of this life as a teacher is nothing like it was 3 weeks ago. Wow...3 weeks, has it really been three weeks already?!! Crazy, it was really just three weeks ago that I lie awake, my chest tight with worry and guilt about how rushed the day seemed with my kindergarteners. My last day with my students before our school shut their doors was sadly a scattered mess of paper packets and a mad rush to load bookmarks and logins to student chromebooks. I sent those little 5 and 6 year olds out the door with a weighted down backpack and more questions than answers, fighting back tears of my own.
“When will we be back Mrs. Hutchings? Why are you sending these workbooks home today? We still have so many pages left to do.” Any of you that are parents or work with young children know this, sometimes all you can do is smile and assure their sweet baby faces that it will be okay, even when all the chaos and uncertainties around you make even just smiling an effort. That was a tough day.
Three weeks later, not a lot has changed. We are still separated from our students. The school parking lots are empty and the playgrounds closed by lock and key. Everything seemingly so empty and left behind. Our days are now filled with emails, google hangouts, logins and passwords and SO. MUCH. SCREEN TIME. Yet, spring has still arrived, the sun is shining, and the birds have started their chirping inviting us to outside places. Places we usually go to play with our friends at parks and places we go for early morning coffee chats before the sun comes up. But we stay close to home, playing in backyards and driveways and facetime our friends to find out what they are having for lunch.
The first few days after school closed, I'm not sure my teacher mind had quite understood what was really going on. I think at times we just go into crisis mode, adrenaline kicks in and we just get done what we need to get done. Teachers have become experts at that over the years. But as the days have passed and the dust has settled a little, the reality and the implications of this situation is becoming more clear. Although the state of Iowa has not yet closed for the remainder of the school year, this is something we are facing. There is a really good possibility that we have already had our last day of the school year with our students.
Many people in our country are experiencing deep painful loss and grief, anxiety and fear right now. So it feels kinda strange to be naming the loss we are feeling as teachers and students. But in an effort to not minimize my own feelings of loss and those of my dear colleagues and students, here is where my teacher heart is at tonight.
I'm sad, sad for the butterflies that we won't be watching hatch together and for the questions that won't be asked. I'm sad about the hugs and high fives we aren't able to give and the laughs that aren't filling our classrooms. I'm sad to not hear all those happy feet skipping down the hallway out to recess. But most of all, I think I'm missing the joy and rewards that April brings to my classroom. All teachers know that the real magic of all your blood, sweat and tears of the year happens during this little happy place in time. It's called March and April. It's this little window of time that things really just start to flow. Routines become habits, lessons come alive and your classmates become like family. Now May gets here and things get a bit crazy as we all know, but this time in the classroom together is extra sweet. Everything comes together and we get to celebrate with our students how far they have come and look back at all the hurdles we have jumped together. And we are missing it. And it's sad. It's okay to be sad about it. It is our little piece of grief in this pandemic. It's okay to let yourself be sad when something is lost.
Being sad about something isn't a sign of weakness. It is actually just an opportunity for us to walk the walk we talk every day in our classrooms. Our students know that academics are important to their teachers, but they also have been learning that without social emotional learning, everything else falls apart. We ourselves are in a time of learning and growing too. So hang in there friend and take care of yourself. Go for a walk or run. Read. Call someone you are missing. Play with your kids. Sit outside and listen to how happy the birds are to be awake.
Love and hugs. Virtual ones of course. :)
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