I've been preparing myself all summer for CDL (Comprehensive Distance Learning). I took classes, set up a work space, got my head in the game, and adopted a fairly resilient/flexible attitude. I worked through August with my school team on schedules and other mechanics, and had a lengthy time to process the changes in what was out in front of me. That served me well during our two weeks of PD, because I'd already let go of teaching as I know it. Planning is different, execution is different, routines are different. Some of that was hard to let go of (it's the 23rd year of this gig, after all!), but I sent those expectations packing.
I was nervous yesterday, as I always am on the first day. There were technological challenges, to be sure, but all in all, the day went fine. I mean, I don't want to downplay the technological challenges, because I felt like I'd run a marathon by 9:15! But the kids were patient, and nothing super strange happened. My online plans were good, and we did some fun activities, but...
I sobbed when we hung up. And I sobbed in the shower. And sobbed when I went to bed.
On a normal first day of school, by the time you get to recess, the newness is done. I know their names, we've already had lots of laughs and sharing, probably a noise reteach 😂, and we're a class. I love that moment when they walk back in after first recess because it feels good, it feels normal. The nerves are gone, and it's go time. It feels like we've always been together. That feeling never happened yesterday.
Half my girls put my name in as their Zoom name on accident, so while I can change that, it's taking a wee bit longer to sort our their actual names. Some kids have bright windows behind them, or spotty Internet, and I just can't see their faces clearly. I think I know which names go with which faces, but I'm not 100% sure. 😬 And then there is the silence. This is possibly the hardest part for me. It is so dang quiet. They are all rock stars and mute themselves until they speak, and that's going swimmingly, but the deafening silence is almost too much to take. A 5th grade classroom is never quiet. Even during the quietest times, there is a pencil tap, someone blowing their noise, whispering, page turning, or the voices from next door. And laughter. I miss the laughter.
And so yesterday, I mourned all of this. I mourned every part of it, and couldn't believe I had to do it again today. Plus, the amount of COVID cases this week in Clatsop County make going back seem less real than it did last week.
But then...exit slips. I looked at a few exit slips yesterday, and mostly panicked about the spelling, but today I really looked. And cried a little more, because...kids. 💗 Kids are amazing, and resilient.
My first thought was (terribly): "You don't know if I'm awesome yet!" 😳 Honestly, how could they possibly feel that way after only six hours? And six hours like THIS. And after that terrible thought, I'm completely humbled that perhaps they do like me, and do have a positive sense of their class. How, I don't know. Like I said, kids are awesome. And they are the ONLY reason I'm in this gig.
💜💜 Press on, my friends!
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