Dear Teachers, I see you.
On Friday, March 13th I got up and got ready for school like I did any other day since August. I drove to school, I started my day waiting for my kids at the door to say good morning as they filed into our room. There were plans… there were lessons… there were skills. Far more than those things though, there was also love, care, smiles, laughter, jokes, brain breaks, dance parties, snack, food, reading spots, and relationships… just to name a few.
Shortly after lunch and recess, I learned that we would be closing for the following week due to the COVID-19 pandemic and to be proactive in protecting our students and their families. At the end of the day, as we were packing up I knew I had to say something to my kids. I couldn’t let them walk out that door and get on the bus without knowing. I couldn’t let them hear it from older kids and I certainly didn’t want them to hear it the wrong way and become scared. So, the last 10 minutes we had a talk. I did my best to explain that it wasn’t scary. We shouldn’t be scared or upset, but that we were working together to make sure that everyone was safe and healthy. We talked about how much we would miss each other, how much I would miss them, and how excited we would be to be back the next week. In that moment, I was admittedly anxious, but I didn’t want my students to see that or feel that. I wanted them to know it would be okay. With students crying at my door as we left because they would miss school that next week, I silently shed some tears too. It was a week, no big deal, we could do it.
That morning, like I had every other morning for as long as I can remember, I listened to one specific TED Talk on my way to school. The TED Talk is by Rita Pierson entitled “Every kid needs a champion” and it discusses the importance of those relationships. The connection to a student is what allows them to learn. A teacher can have the best curriculum, tools, resources, but if they cannot connect to the students sitting before them, it is all lost. If you have never watched Pierson’s TED Talk, check it out here:
As I said bye to each student as I dropped them off at their bus, I wish I had known…
I wish I had known that in minutes of putting my last student on the bus, the one-week absence would turn into two weeks.
I wish I had known that my students time away from the school building, wouldn’t involve play dates, playgrounds, and fun adventures.
I wish I had known that one week, would turn into two weeks, would turn into a month, would turn into “indefinitely”, would turn into a confirmed end to the school year (physically).
Because if I had known….
I would have hugged each of those students a little tighter.
I would have packed them extra snacks to send home, instead of them sitting in my empty classroom.
I would have divvied up all my books and resources.
I would have laughed and joked a little more.
I would have told them everything would be okay, no matter what, we would get through it together.
When I got the news today that the 2019-2020 school year is officially over in the physical school setting, it felt like I was sucker punched right in the gut. Deep down, I knew it was coming, but I prayed and I hoped and I wished that somehow, some miracle, we would go back, even if just for a little.
You see, it isn’t just my students this year who are my kids… it is all the students that came before them too. There were lunch dates planned and visits scheduled. I had check-ins planned with my past students who I know still need some extra TLC and someone checking in on them. My worrying for my students doesn’t end when they leave my door for third grade and it definitely doesn’t end now.
The sucker punched feeling I felt today went so much deeper than the end of the school year. I know I can’t speak for everyone, and I will never try to, but what educators across the country are feeling is something very hard to put into words. For me, personally, I will try my best…
On April 9th, I woke up like I had since March 14th… anxious, worried, exhausted. I hadn’t slept well, again, for the 26th night in a row. I had laid awake thinking about my kids… the ones who rely on the breakfast, lunch, and snacks provided by the school, the ones who call school their safe place, the ones who look forward to coming to school each day, the ones who struggle with the structure and schedule of school because they lack that guidance at home, the ones who long for attention (no matter the cost), the ones who don’t get enough sleep because they played video games all night, the ones who are being raised by grandparents, the ones who missed their mommy/daddy because they were in jail, the ones who I have gotten to know, love, and have had the distinct privilege to watch grow all school year. When I heard the news, I was already a mixed bag of emotions as I have been since March 14th.
Except this time, I cried… not for me, well a little for me, but mostly for…
The parents.
The ones who are barely getting by trying to figure out how to help multiple kids, in different grade levels, different subjects, different ability levels, still have some sort of access to academic practice.
The ones who have recently lost their jobs.
The ones who are working from home, plus trying to navigate having their kids home too.
The ones who are barely making ends meet.
The ones who have struggles I will never even know about.
The seniors and transition grade kiddos.
The ones who won’t experience all the things that come with March-June of a school year.
The ones who will miss their last elementary, middle school, or high school field trip.
The ones who will miss their special time to shine before going off to their next journey.
The ones who won’t get to sing songs at Kindergarten graduations.
The ones who won’t get to see all their Elementary Teachers for lunches and special visits while on the same schedule before transitioning to Middle School.
The ones who won’t get precious time with their friends before everyone goes their separate ways to colleges, trade schools, or the workforce.
The ones who feel like all of these things they have looked forward to for so long is taken away from them.
The parents, who have looked forward to all of these events in their kids lives, who suddenly mourn the loss of those moments for their kids too.
The administrators.
The ones who are forced to make decisions based on state and federal mandates.
The ones who have never been in situations like these before and know what is at stake for their students.
The ones who have children of their own at home and are trying to balance being the school leader and also mom/dad.
The teachers.
The ones who all are feeling the same losses.
The ones who wish they had hugged their kiddos for just a second more.
The ones who are robbed of the goodbyes and closure they so needed.
The ones who will retire without the true goodbyes and feelings of closure they so deserved and worked their entire careers for.
The para professionals, the support staff, the administrative assistants, the school nurses, the personal care aides, and all members of school district staffs across the country who are affected and have emotions about this too.
Those who know the students of the school inside and out, even without having their “own classroom”.
We see you too.
The students.
The ones who just want to see their friends.
The ones who had their world flipped upside down.
The ones who are being told they must stay home.
The ones who are so little but have such big emotions.
The ones who are longing to be back at school.
Today, as I feel so many emotions and so much heartbreak, I will choose to find creative and innovative ways to make this time special, even though it is different for my students. I know so many other educators who will do the exact same. These are unchartered waters and we are all just doing our best. We are thankful that our students and staff are able to be home and not exposed to anything that could hurt them or someone they love. Yet, we worry for the ones who don’t have the same comforts that we know some of our students do while at home. Tonight, as I lay awake for the 27th night in a row, I will brainstorm and think of ways to make this time special and exciting for my students, hopefully not overwhelming for any parents, and transform myself into a virtual champion, instead of a classroom champion they see face to face every day.
Rita Pierson said “It’s the connection. It’s the relationships. So teachers become great actors and great actresses, and we come to work when we don’t feel like it, and we listen to policy that doesn’t make sense, and we teach anyway. We teach anyway, because that’s what we do. Teaching and learning should bring joy. How powerful would our world be if we had kids who were not afraid to take risks, who were not afraid to think, and who had a champion? Every child deserves a champion, an adult who will never give up on them, who understands the power of connection, and insists that they become the best that they can possibly be. Is this job tough? You betcha. Oh God, you betcha. But it is not impossible. We can do this. We’re educators. We’re born to make a difference.”
If you have an educator in your life, let them know they are a champion. Let them know that they make a difference. If you are a parent, student, educator, para, support staff, or not even involved in the education world but are struggling, know that there are people to reach out to. Don’t feel alone, despite our physical separation, we are all in this together. Reach out, I am always here to listen, and I know so many people who are willing to do the same. Do your best and forget the rest.
Here’s to pursuing a present, simple life by living intently and always remembering what matters and what doesn’t. Remember to give yourself grace and permission to enjoy the journey. I’m always in your corner, cheering you on, and pulling for you friend! With love always, Madison
