The One Where We Didn't Have A Real School Year

As we are all well aware, the 2019-20 school "year" has been real weird. 

I started this 12th year of teaching year unsure if I was going to continue in this profession. I am finishing the year feeling the same way but for totally different reasons. 

{I am pretty sure I am going to stay in teaching, but, honestly, right now? UGH.}

At the beginning of the year, I was feeling stagnant, and unsure if what I loved about teaching was still a part of my DNA. As the year progressed I hit rock bottom and started seriously looking for other jobs. I really thought teaching wasn't for me anymore.

But then, over the course of 3 weeks in January, some new life was breathed into the school I work at and some fresh opportunities came my way and they left me feeling invigorated. I felt ready to dig into this gig and give it my all. The Universe had spoken; teaching is where I belong. 

And then, COVID.  

This is NOT how my classroom should look.............

We have all been thrown for a loop. I know that EVERY SINGLE person is inconvenienced because of this damn virus. I have shed many, many tears for all the loss that this virus has caused. From loss of life, the loss of jobs to the loss of rites of passage for so many people that I love. It's unfair, weird, sad, and just all-around terrible. 

But since this is my 'end of the school year' blog post that I've been doing for 12 years, I am going to focus on my own personal hell: Remote teaching.

 

I need to preface the rest of this post by saying that my district had expectations around keeping teachers and students accountable by showing up and learning as much as possible. This required teachers and students to be engaged as much as possible. We made instructional videos, had Zoom meetings, took attendance, had daily assignments, and put at least 2 grades in the grade book every week. 

There were many supports given around the use of technology and working through gaps in technology availability for teachers and students. I have been impressed with how so many people helped those who may not have access to the tools needed for remote learning. Also, the school I work at is probably a 90% 1:1 device school meaning almost all of our kids had a device to use for learning. I recognize how incredibly lucky we are to have this. I recognize that this isn't true for much of the world. I recognize that I feel grateful that the technology hurdle wasn't very high for me and my students. But, please know that I recognize that the philosophical layers of how to do remote teaching well and with equity are as layered and complicated as a Croquembouche. {I know, fancy!}

                         

{I have been watching a lot of baking shows.}

 That said, technology almost killed me. I work with 130 kids and the only {non curse} word that captures my life over the past 11 weeks is Tedious. 

EVERY SINGLE TASK THAT I DO IS TEDIOUS! 

The ease of quick check-ins with learners, or the simple "do you understand?" assessment is virtually impossible {pun not intended...but...} when remotely teaching. 

Part of the problem is the steep learning curve to turn EVERY interaction into something involving technology. I had no idea how deeply I took for granted the simple checks for understanding and the ease of joking around with kids and being myself with them. The computer screen has robbed teachers of any sort of normalcy in how we interact with kids. It sucks.

And then the layer of putting together assignments. Did I mention tedious? My God. To think of EVERY single detail and worry over EVERY single detail is draining. I have painstakingly loaded assignments on Google Classroom and then see this over and over and over again:

I had no idea how time-consuming this would be. No. Idea. 
This is my #1 favorite meme for this element. It is ridiculously accurate!

Which then led to this: 

I have had some amazing moments as well. And for these I am extremely grateful. This little blog started out as a recognition of "miracles in the mundane". If I were to ever look for miracles, this hell of the mundane is ripe for harvest. One place I found miracles was in my once a week check-in. It was great to learn about students' families, ways to decompress, learn what stresses kids out, and what doesn't. I learned from one superstar student how to make whipped coffee and grow romaine lettuce in a cup of water from the stalk. Amazing I tell you!

I learned that snacks and the outdoors has helped every single person right now. {I am grateful this damn pandemic hit during spring and not winter. Nature is healing.} I also had my instincts confirmed that the mental health staff at my school are top-notch and would do whatever they could for anyone, no matter what obstacles were {inevitably} in the way. They were quick, thoughtful, and just all-around incredible.

But my most favorite miracles were some really nice emails of thanks and appreciation from parents and kids through all of this. They mean the world to me. In the weirdest way possible I also learned that kids are kids are kids. Some habits were amplified and some were dulled but at the end of {the very long days} I realized that these darn kids--and ALL of the crazy they bring-- are why I am in this gig. 

So as I continue into the unknown of what will be happening next, I will continue to look for miracles in the mundane and know that those are enough. They have to be.