I have always been the teacher who knows which students need the granola bars stashed in my desk, who packs extra yogurt and fruit just in case, ensuring they have nutritious snacks when my supply of chewy bars runs low. My concern now shifts to what those kids are eating in this uncertain time.
Recently, I conducted an exercise with my ninth graders on Google Classroom, posing a simple question. Acknowledging the struggles many of our students face, particularly in our urban area where poverty is prevalent, I realized these kids are in survival mode. Our county has seen some of the highest COVID-19 impacts, with three of the top six hardest-hit zip codes situated within our district. This reality weighs heavily on all of us.
My thought was this: if students are consumed with worries about their next meal or personal safety, why would they engage with my Newsela or Common Lit assignments? I asked them, “How are you?” encouraging them to respond with an emoji if they didn’t feel like writing much. I just wanted them to reply.
The quiet Google Classroom soon buzzed with activity. I shared a video message expressing how much I missed and worried about them—a constant reality for me. One of the first responses read, “miss you making me cry.” I echoed that sentiment. This… whatever this “new normal” is… will never truly feel normal.
I had intended to write about this earlier, but my motivation waned until now. I urge my students to find their voices even in stressful times and have always promised not to ask more of them than I would of myself. So here it goes: I am not meant to teach from behind a screen.
I miss the laughter we shared. Like my almost six-foot student, a delightful girl who would playfully shield her eyes with her hand and pretend she couldn’t see me towering at 5’9”. “Have you seen Miss? Oh! There you are!”
I yearn for the smiles—the mutual joy of seeing each other again. This was especially evident when I returned after my daughter’s tonsillectomy; their hearts seemed full, and so was mine. How do I say goodbye to students I should have had for three more months? The thought keeps me awake, knowing I won’t teach this group again.
My heart aches for my school kids, who constantly occupy my thoughts. As a mother, I feel the same ache for my children, who miss their teachers and the familiar rhythm of daily life. This makeshift routine helps no one.
Resources for Further Reading
For additional insights, check out one of our other blog posts at this link. If you’re interested in learning more about home insemination, visit this great resource. You can also refer to this comprehensive information on pregnancy and home insemination.
Conclusion
In summary, the shift to online teaching has highlighted the emotional and practical challenges faced by both students and teachers. As we adapt to these unprecedented circumstances, the importance of connection and support remains paramount.