I don’t know where to start.
Earlier this week someone said to Julie, “Teachers are just loving this aren’t they?” Julie told them we were all sad. I don’t even know if sad describes how I feel.
Yesterday or early this morning my friend Aeriale Johnson posted this blog post talking about the conflicting emotions she was having and it really spoke to me. I am excited for the opportunities this new weird world is giving me to explore new learning. I have all these goals to accomplish. I want to design interventions for struggling readers, I want to explore new ways to teach, not new ways to entertain but to teach, to create a more engaging learning environment. I want to craft opportunities for my students. I want to write. Not just my blog but a book. I want to learn. We have this time to hone our craft. I am excited for those opportunities. This remote teaching is a whole different experience I was not ready for. How could we be ready?
Today a few teachers were talking and the thought came out, “Did you ever think this was what teaching would be like?” The thing is I don’t think this is teaching. It is something but something is missing. The most important thing.
Sure virtually we can message back and forth, I can make some videos to walk them through assignments, I can start an Instagram and record some videos and post the books I am excited about. I can maybe do a Zoom meeting and we can talk about books but it isn’t the same. I don’t feel sad, I feel incomplete.
The halls are empty, books sit on the shelf already collecting dust, I sit on the edge of my seat for an email to come in with a question, even if it is the fifth time that same question comes in ( cue another “instructional” video).
Today in a video conference a teacher who was talking to us mentioned how a part of their soul was missing. Until you can’t have it you don’t know how much you will miss it.
We are 7 days without kids today. I miss the noise, I miss the laughter, I miss the questions, I miss the late walk ins, the fights over the rolling chair, the eye rolls over being asked to get out their books, the “just one more second” as they finish their clash royale match. I miss the nicknames and “too cool for school” attitudes from kids who just want to be a part of “school”. I miss the lunch visitors.
I miss them.
I am a teacher… right now I am incomplete.
2 thoughts on “Incomplete”
I just lost it in the store the other day (pre- shut down). Customers were talking about how strange this all is and I said, “I didn’t get to say goodbye to my kids. I called in sick that last day before we learned we wouldn’t be going back.” I just stood there and started crying. I had to walk out. Yeah, this is not teaching.
Well said. I’m not great with words, so let it suffice that I say thank you.