The Switch From Home to In-Person Instruction

No one has been a bigger proponent for kids going back into schools than myself.

As we reach the one year anniversary when the world shut down, I am grateful to finally merge all together in my Pre-K to 2 school. All looks well from the outside and I think for the most part it is, but it is also unequivocally different than any of the other years I have taught. For one, I had these nice cozy groups of 7, two days a week and then 9 the other two days a week. The students in both groups molded together nicely, balancing each other out, like an odd but easy Brady Bunch. Students who needed more reading help got it. Kids who didn’t understand a math problem, felt no embarrassment at speaking out about their misunderstandings. Now that they have all been thrust together, like some kind of experimental reality show, patience is tested and flexibility is needed.

On top of that, we seem to be in a shortage of bus drivers at our district and this makes end of the day transportation tricky.

I have some students leaving at 2:30, others leaving at 2:45 and still others that stay with me until the big yellow buses show up after 3:00. This makes it tricky to end the day with a feel good read aloud and a well picked up room. As chance would have it, a lot of my bus students are also students who could use extra time and support in reading instruction. I have instituted a ten minute window after the last two groups leave, where they can read anything they want and then choose a tub of toys when the timer goes off. Today, I was sitting at my reading table, where our new technology man was sitting there bemused at how one person can have 35,000 unopened emails and three or four kids were trying to read to me, all buoying for position at who could be the loudest. When the timer went off, I had one student look up, while everyone else ran off to grab a tub of marbles or open up a chrome book and play prodigy.

“Remember, when it was just a small group. Remember when it was just me and I would read to you.”

This student. Let’s call him Eric, came to school in the fall well below reading level , but with great shoes and 100 percent sass. At one point, he was the only kiddo in his cohort who would take the bus, so he and I would sit for twenty minutes while he read to me. A sort of one-on-one tutoring session at the end of the day, when both of us were tired, but still able . I smiled today at the memory. At how far he has come in his reading and how fluent he is now. I hope I had something to do with it, but I know it was really all him and his persistence.

“Do you mind if I stay with you and read to you some more?”

“I always hope you will,” I tell him.

I relish these moments, because these past few weeks have just been so busy. Instead of meaningful side conversations, I have felt like I am working at Disney in the fast pass lane, worrying more about protocols than if that one looks extra tired, or if this student doesn’t have winter boots for outside. I am so preoccupied with the distancing and the time management and the spacing of the desks, that today I felt happy to take them on a walk around the building. I let them get loud and rowdy, whooping it up between the puddles, splashing the water and grinning from ear-to-ear. Eight-year-olds know how to navigate puddles better than desks. I am trying my best to show them how to behave at their desks, but also to know how to wield a paddle when the water gets too high. Sigh. They are a good group. I am lucky.

I hope people know all the extra work it takes to make these four days happen.

It is so much. Our ed techs, our custodians, the school nurse. Everyone does triple the work, extra duties, disinfecting. There is no time for group lunches anymore and they can’t exist anyway with Covid. These super human ed techs sometimes jet from a social distanced math group, to a lunch duty, to a recess duty, to cover a classroom, to ride a school bus. Burnout is evident. That doesn’t mean the payout isn’t worth it, but I don’t think people realize. I have seen a lot of comments lately about how Wednesdays are not needed. That cleaning is not happening and teacher prep time is a joke. That now that teachers are vaccinated, push all kids into schools. I have taken to a lot of therapeutic vegetable chopping when I read this, because otherwise I would have only six friends on my facebook page. How do you say to people I am fighting tooth and nail to get a vaccine, that doesn’t interrupt the school day, that doesn’t interrupt your child’s already interrupted education? How do you say to people, do you know what it’s like to clean a classroom and equipment for 18 kiddos AND keep their social bodies apart AND still make it fun for them.

Lately I have been giving the kids extra incentives, because I know the desks can be a lot and the sitting can be too much. The other day I ordered fifty dollars worth of fancy pens on Amazon. It turns out those Lisa Frank click the color ones are still popular with the YouTube generation. I praise the kids all through math. I give them effort bucks, right answer bucks, kindness bucks, perfect breathing bucks. Whatever it takes. I worry the room is claustrophobic for them, I see them bending back over their chairs, raising their hands for another go noodle. I want them to learn, but I also want them to love learning, love books. This was not what I intended for them, I intended so much more. I hope it is enough.

The other day I was sitting with a reader who is working hard to get on grade level for reading. His face was tight with worry, as a he stretched out a four letter word.

“I have a headache” he told me.

When I asked him if he wanted a break. He responded by saying, “My head hurts because this is so hard for me, I didn’t say that I wanted to give up trying.”

His words hit me like being doused with a cold bucket of water. It snapped me right back into place. The right place. This merger has it’s own set of challenges, I have had to learn how to reorganize some chess pieces, but if this kiddo hasn’t given up when Covid has robbed him from so much, I know I haven’t either.