Each morning, I wake up and 'get ready' for the school day. I simply walk downstairs to my school.
My classroom is my kitchen island with me perched on a bar stool. My laptop sits in front of me right beside my coffee cup of courage.
School starts at 8 a.m.
My son, Blaize, sits on a stool at the other end of the island. His remote office is in our kitchen, too. He's been home from Chicago for a month, as well. Luckily, his employer implemented remote work options when their office building was closed. So happy he came home and is safe with us as we social distance together. Trying to do our jobs at opposite ends of a butcher block.
Keep going.
It's been a true adjustment.
I suppose that's the understatement of the year.
No one knew how to 'teach school' from home. Our nation's school districts come with actual buildings and campuses. Now, those have been taken away. How in the world do we continue when our buildings, our classrooms, our students, our support staff, our supplies/equipment, our EVERYTHING has been taken away...in a day?
A day!
I locked my classroom door on Friday, March 13, 2020. Our governor told us we would be closing schools as of Tuesday, March 17. Over that weekend, the date was changed to Monday, March 16. Schools have not been the same since then.
Keep going.
I consider myself a patriotic person. I stand, with my right hand over my heart, for the pledge of allegiance. I proudly lead my class in this each school day. I fly a flag in my classroom as well as at home. I celebrate national holidays and I respect our constitution as best I can. I respect all who have served and who continue to serve our country. I volunteer within the community, I serve on various boards, and I try to donate to charities as much as possible. I've always been proud of our nation, our state, and our community. I'm not sure if that's the definition of patriotic, but it's what I try to do, in my little corner of the world, to show my love and my respect of country.
I had no way of knowing how proud I could be until this pandemic hit. The people who have stepped up to keep our nation and our communities safe boggles my mind. Truly a nation coming together.
While my profession has been hit in a way no one could have imagined, the same can be said for so many other professions, as well. No one had a play book for a pandemic. This is true trial and error in most cases. But, we're doing it. Everyone is doing things they never imagined and attempting new options never even considered.
Keep going.
I'm not going to lie and say I've converted to teaching from home with no issues and act like I have it all together.
I've done it about as ungracefully as I could have! I wear my pajama pants most days. I do remember two days where I wore make-up for Zoom meetings. One of the other teachers asked me why I had eye make up on!? I realized the absurdity of 'getting ready' for a day of work from my kitchen.
Noted.
I've learned how to adjust the laptop screen so my chins don't look so 'double' and I realized that my glasses hide the fact I didn't manage to do anything but wash my face when I got up. Score! In the real world, there is no conceivable time I would have considered going to school without hair done and makeup on. Always wearing a dress to school, this new me is in stark contrast to the teacher I used to be.
Keep going.
New reality means new perspective. And I've come to realize that our new normal means teachers have to support parents more than ever. I've always felt fortunate to have the parents I do to work with. They not only support our district and our program but they've supported me and what I work to accomplish with their children. Now, the tables are turned and we're working together in supplying curriculum and providing instruction. We've had to pivot and then pivot, again, to find a rhythm which works with schools closed and students at home. As we hit the month mark, I can honestly say, I think we're doing it! I'm so proud of what we've accomplished in such a short amount of time.
Each week which passes gives me more clarity on how to teach from my kitchen island. SO much of our jobs is in the delivery of the curriculum. Actually, that's my favorite part! I love to sing and dance in class and joke with my students. That's gone now and it's the basics. The bread and butter of education is what I'm supposed to be presenting. But, my personal touch is missing. That makes me sad.
I miss my students.
I miss the staff members who have become my friends.
I miss being there.
Keep going.
Today, I had an epiphany.
I am in contact with my student's parents on a weekly basis and I talk to some parents even more than that. One mom and I text quite often on the Remind App. I asked her if she would accept an invitation to Zoom and she said she would. The Zoom App is one we use for meetings but I thought I'd give it a try one-on-one so I could talk to my student, too! I had yet to talk to this student since this all began. In our special ed setting, it's been most important to make sure I am addressing IEP goals, etc.
That changed this morning.
It hit me like a ton of bricks when his mom brought her phone over to where my student was sitting in their house. She asked if he knew who this was on the screen? It dawned on me that he might not recognize me (you know, no make-up & no dress!) so I asked her to hang on and I went to my teacher bag to get the lanyard with my Four Rivers ID hanging from it. I haven't worn it for four weeks. I held it up to the screen. Covered the whole lens on my side. I could see him focusing on the screen through the very top corner of my laptop.
Silence.
Then, "Paula!" It was my student's voice.
You see, when he first became a student in my classroom, he would walk up to me and take my ID in his little hands. He'd touch the lanyard which it hangs from and would say, "Neckle" because it looks like a necklace. Then, he would point to the picture and look up at me and say, "Paula!" This was our 'thing.' It's our way of communicating.
We also do a 'clicking of our tongues' after we say each other's names. I call it our form of echolocation.
I heard 'clicking' through my laptop speakers.
He remembered me. After four weeks, he remembered me!
Keep going.
Today I realized that I can still insert my personality into this remote learning. I've spent so many hours these past weeks making sure my students are getting what they deserve and what they need per their IEP's that I pushed the 'fun' we had aside.
A few minutes on Zoom with my little guy reminded me why I'm a special ed teacher. It's because of the personal connection I have with these kids that I do what I do. Any teacher will tell you that teaching is hard work under normal conditions. There's no way you can understand how hard being a teacher is unless you are one. These extreme circumstances take it to a whole new level.
All we can do is try. Fail. Then, try again.
But there's no reason I can't still sing and dance with my students, is there? I can joke with them and I can smile when they are being silly. We can be loud and fun! (Blaize might be looking for a new work space...either that or he's going to have to learn our songs and join in!)
The moments with my student earlier today reminded me of that. I can still be the teacher I was, even from my kitchen island.
All I can do is...keep going. That's all any of us can do.
It is what it is.
p
