Today is Monday. I wake up and take a mere 14 minutes to get out of bed. After a quick shower, I put on my work pants (they're actually pajama pants with alpacas on them, but I wear them for work) with a nice sweater that does not in any way match with my work pants. But no one else knows that.
After making coffee and breakfast, I carefully balance my water bottle and coffee mug in one hand while I hold my breakfast sandwich in the other hand and try not to spill as I climb the stairs to my office, located directly above my bedroom.
My first task of the day involves responding to emails from students. Some have questions about grades and others want to know about an assignment that is due this week. A few students have turned in an assignment late, so I grade them and enter them into the grade book. Another student has sent me an email containing an apology that they had missed part of Friday's lesson because they were helping their little sister adjust the microphone on her laptop. This happens regularly, not to that specific student, but to many of my students who find themselves as the technology troubleshooters and care-takers for their younger siblings, who are also remote learning, while their parents are at work. I quickly respond with a message to tell my student that I support them and offering a time to meet with them to review the lesson that they missed.
A few minutes before my first class of the day begins, I start our Zoom video, get some music going, and wait for a familiar name to show up in the waiting room. I'm not surprised when the first few names show up. They are the first ones to arrive almost daily. The consistency is comforting and reminds me of in-person school, when certain students would be the first ones to arrive to class almost every single day, fully settled in long before the bell rings.
As students virtually arrive, I send them a link for a Google Form, our daily check-in that doubles as a warm-up and wellness check. While I admit everyone into the room, students answer a few questions about content from Friday, share an emoji that describes how they are feeling at the moment, and have an opportunity to request to schedule a meeting with me or with someone from the guidance office. During the first few minutes of class, I receive a few messages in the Zoom chat. Someone wants to know what song is playing while someone else expresses extreme enthusiasm in all capital letters at hearing their favorite Spanish-speaking artist singing. Someone else asks how my dentist appointment went yesterday.
After providing enough time for everyone to complete the check-in, I turn the music off and greet my class. For the next forty minutes, I almost forget that I am sitting in an empty house. Some students un-mute themselves to ask and answer questions. Others prefer to communicate in the chat. Instead of relying on facial expressions and body language to informally gauge understanding, I depend on Zoom emoji reactions and private chat messages. It works.
But not everyone is engaged. I notice that one student shows up in the waiting room four or five times during our forty minute class. I let them in each time and send them a message to see if things are okay. They explain that their internet keeps going out. This happens a lot. Internet access is not always stable. Another student doesn't respond as I exhaust all communication methods, including Zoom chats and requests spoken aloud. Maybe they had to walk away from their device. Maybe they are helping a sibling or taking a nap. Maybe the microphone on their device isn't working. I make a note to send an email and make a phone call to check-in and I continue with the lesson.
After seventh period ends, I begin my office hours zoom, which is used for an hour and fifteen minutes every day to meet with any students one-on-one or in small groups. During the past few weeks, this time has been helpful to me to meet with two different students who missed class because of deaths in their families and a couple of other students who needed some additional practice on the concept of indirect object pronouns. Today I have scheduled a meeting with a student who has had to go to work during our class period over the past few weeks. This student logs into the zoom day after day and participates as much as possible while stocking shelves, headphones in ears and phone in pocket. Even so, some things have been missed, so we take some time to review some previous lessons and clarify some questions regarding vocabulary.
As my student leaves our Zoom, I open the document that records student responses to today's check-in form to see if anyone indicated that they wanted to schedule a time to talk with me. There is just one today, so I quickly send an email to schedule a time to talk. Some days none of my students take this opportunity while other days I have one or two requesting to schedule a time to talk about their grades or something else. If we were not in a pandemic, I would be in my classroom after school with the door open for any students to step in and get some help or to talk for a few minutes. This Google Form is my virtual open door.
After office hours, I go out to buy some groceries. I see few high school aged people at the store, one of them wearing a hoodie with our school name on it. I smile at them, but quickly remember that I am wearing a mask. They wave, so I wave back. They don't look familiar, but could they be my students? Most of my students keep their cameras off during class. When cameras do come on, they often feature ceiling fans. In a time when we are all facing great stress and anxiety, I have opted to not to require students to keep their camera on if they feel more comfortable learning with it off. They are present every day, engaged in class, and completing assignments. But I don't know what they look like.
What lays ahead this evening? Doubtlessly, some grading and lesson planning, paired with some reflecting on today's lessons and maybe some worrying about a few students. But also a game of Rummikub with my parents, some time to get comfortable and read a book or watch a show, and maybe even a workout or a phone call with a friend, followed by ice cream, if there is any left in my freezer. I know I teach better when I take care of myself, stop working before the work is done, and enjoy the people and things in my life that bring me joy.
This is not what I thought remote learning would be like. I didn't know what to expect, but it wasn't this. I didn't think that I would look forward to logging into Zoom over and over every day, but I do. I didn't think I would be able to develop connections with students, to get to know them, and to joke with them, but I have. I had not anticipated the many challenges that my students would face during the 40 minutes that they are in my virtual class every day... challenges that range from helping younger siblings log onto their remote learning, wrestling with unstable internet connection, or logging into zoom from work because they need to take all the extra hours they can to help their family through financially difficult times. I didn't realize how much I would miss the five minute passing periods between each class when the entire student body spills into the hallways, giving me a chance to wave at former students as they passed by, hear their warm greetings, and quickly catch up with them before they rush off to their next class.
My colleagues in my department, my building, my district, and my social media feeds are some of my heroes. Since March 2020, their ideas and their tenacity has been inspiring to me, and I feel honored to be counted among them. While I have heard some people say that our students are falling behind due to remote learning, I maintain that they are not. Quite to the contrary, they (and the parents, grandparents, and siblings that they live with) are staying alive during a global pandemic. I am grateful for a school board and district administration that have made difficult decisions and chosen to prevent the virus from spreading in our classrooms and hallways by keeping learning remote. I know that some teachers, in addition to learning how to teach in brand new ways, also have to fight for their safety and the safety of their families and their students during this time, and I am grateful to be able to focus my efforts only on teaching.
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