15 months ago, we were thrust into this pandemic not realizing all that it would demand of us. In this short time, we have adjusted to social restrictions, isolation, loneliness, and loss in our daily routines that we will never know again. I don’t know about you, but I miss my normal and can’t wait to get back to the familiar activities that once seemed all-consuming but now seem like gifts. From my morning coffee to my groceries, I now only have to touch my screen about five times to order and have it arrive at my location within the hour. Not only are these conveniences at the touch of my hand, but my phone screen is full of new apps that allow me to purchase, request delivery, schedule, and communicate, all from my bed. This new norm is odd, but for a teacher, these shifts have truly changed the way I understand my role as a teacher, and the glasses are not rose-colored.
This school year especially has opened my eyes to how sensitive and delicate my students are. More than anything, this year has taught me more about myself than I ever knew. As a veteran teacher, I never realized how much of who I am as a person hinges on a job where I am underpaid, underappreciated, and unacknowledged. No, it is not all bad. In fact, you don’t even worry about those things after a while, but I now know that being a teacher is more than a job; it is the left to my right.
During these 15 months when I could not engage, support, or interact with my students, I was forced to reevaluate what my role is, what my students need from me. At times, it seemed overwhelming how many of them needed structure and reassurance from me at a time when I did not know what that looked like. At times, I was lost like my students, but I could not share that, and that was very hard. At the end of this year, I am depleted, as many other teachers are. I have given accommodation after accommodation and followed up with even more consideration.
However, it is the transactional nature of this year that has left me with a void. Sure, there were times when students turned on a mic to assist me with a tech issue or a suggestion of what would make the assignment flow better. For those moments, I will forever be grateful. But there were more students than I care to think of who will know me in the aisle at Walgreens, and I will never know that I spent a year of their lives with them. This is scary and creates that void that I referred to earlier. For those students, I truly was an instructor who delivered information, and the student accepted it and delivered the assignment in return. See? A transaction. All I can ask of these students is that they stop by my room next year and reintroduce themselves in person. Come and see me.
This is not just a musing about the year that has passed. This is a declaration that next year will be better. I will make sure that I build stronger relationships with students to make up for all the ones that did not happen this year. I want to tell funnier jokes because my humor depends on a physical space, and I would hate for students to think the jokes are not funny. I take all lessons good and bad with me to re-energize students to appreciate the learning that can happen in a classroom where a teacher comes to engage in knowing more with them. Because of this, I am excited to end this year and begin the next.
See you soon!
This school year especially has opened my eyes to how sensitive and delicate my students are. More than anything, this year has taught me more about myself than I ever knew. As a veteran teacher, I never realized how much of who I am as a person hinges on a job where I am underpaid, underappreciated, and unacknowledged. No, it is not all bad. In fact, you don’t even worry about those things after a while, but I now know that being a teacher is more than a job; it is the left to my right.
During these 15 months when I could not engage, support, or interact with my students, I was forced to reevaluate what my role is, what my students need from me. At times, it seemed overwhelming how many of them needed structure and reassurance from me at a time when I did not know what that looked like. At times, I was lost like my students, but I could not share that, and that was very hard. At the end of this year, I am depleted, as many other teachers are. I have given accommodation after accommodation and followed up with even more consideration.
However, it is the transactional nature of this year that has left me with a void. Sure, there were times when students turned on a mic to assist me with a tech issue or a suggestion of what would make the assignment flow better. For those moments, I will forever be grateful. But there were more students than I care to think of who will know me in the aisle at Walgreens, and I will never know that I spent a year of their lives with them. This is scary and creates that void that I referred to earlier. For those students, I truly was an instructor who delivered information, and the student accepted it and delivered the assignment in return. See? A transaction. All I can ask of these students is that they stop by my room next year and reintroduce themselves in person. Come and see me.
This is not just a musing about the year that has passed. This is a declaration that next year will be better. I will make sure that I build stronger relationships with students to make up for all the ones that did not happen this year. I want to tell funnier jokes because my humor depends on a physical space, and I would hate for students to think the jokes are not funny. I take all lessons good and bad with me to re-energize students to appreciate the learning that can happen in a classroom where a teacher comes to engage in knowing more with them. Because of this, I am excited to end this year and begin the next.
See you soon!
