Tonight I wished I was dancing. You see, tonight as one of the junior class sponsors, I should have been in charge of Atlee's prom. I should have been arriving early at the John Marshall to make sure everything was in place. I should be holding the crowns for the naming of the prom king and queen, taking tickets, coordinating things with the John Marshall staff, handing the final playlist over to the DJ, wearing my Raider blue dress, taking pictures with my students, watching their smiles and marveling that the same students who sit in my classroom in athletic shorts and hoodies are magically transformed by tuxedos and formal gowns. I should have been talking to my students about where they went to dinner tonight. I would have loved to share this moment with my co-sponsor Ms. Edmunds and colleagues and students. Instead, I'm thinking about dancing while I'm in my kitchen cooking dinner, wishing I was on a much better dance floor.I've found myself doing a lot of things these days that I never imagined myself doing. I'm hosting zooms regularly and while it's good to see my students' faces, I'd so much rather give them a hug or a high five. I'm still laughing at my botched attempt at cutting my son's hair. Recently, I've had to ration all sorts of things in my house--the number of freeze pops my kids seem to eat per hour, the tv, Fortnite, snacks, paper towels. I've been teaching multiplying and dividing integers and what a vascular plant is by conducting an experiment with celery and blue food coloring. I've been on a virtual field trip to the Great Wall of China. I'm no longer afraid to put myself on camera, as I've made more videos for my students that I ever thought possible. I ran a half marathon--13.1 miles totally by myself. I've baked cookies regularly for medical workers. I've painted rocks and a chalkboard wall in my house and played more board games than I even knew we owned. People keep calling these times "unprecedented," addressing every message, commercial, and article with phrases like "now more than ever." If I can be honest, "now more than ever," I'm tired of that word "unprecedented." But that seems to be the perfect word to describe this pandemic. All of those things--the solo 13.1 miles, the math instruction, the attempt to cut my son's hair--are unprecedented. I've never seen the world like this, and neither has anyone else. Many days I don't feel like the teacher I was just a month and a half ago. Maybe it's because I'm wearing slippers and sweatshirts instead of professional attire. Maybe it's because I don't feel like I'm "teaching" in the actual sense of the word. Someone described teaching during quarantine as throwing a frisbee and not getting anything back in return, and in a way, that's a decent analogy. It's hard to gauge student understanding. Recently I've discovered that some of the biggest lessons in this quarantine I didn't teach others; rather, I learned them from my students. Allow me to explain.
1. Show Up for People: Last Saturday when I ran that virtual half marathon, I stepped out of my house only to be greeted by my students holding up signs, cheering me on at the start of my "race." I saw another student and his mom sitting in their driveway encouraging me at mile 5. One of them looked at me and said there were very few people he would get up this early for on a Saturday. But he did. He showed up for me; they all did. Most of the race I was motivated because of those students. I wanted to show up for them. And since then, I've been conscious of the people I am showing up for, of who I am trying to lift up.
2. Know your why: Recently, I sent my seniors a survey asking them to give one piece of advice as seniors before they graduate. My plan was to create a video and incorporate their thoughts in the video. One piece of advice really stood out to me--"know your why." These three words are what have helped me wake up in the morning and find a purpose. While I am not walking into my classroom each day juggling my hot tea and bag full of papers and books, eager to write today's agenda on the white board, I am still a teacher. I have only seen glimpses of my classroom from students who have sent me photos from outside of my window (I'm so glad I forgot to close the blinds).
One of the biggest things I've learned from all of this is that I don't need that physical space to be a teacher. I just need to know my why. So this week I held writing conferences with some of my dual enrollment students. I set up individual meetings with IB English students for this coming week to help them with their oral commentary assignment. I found my why--I felt like a teacher again, and it was one of the most glorious feelings.
3. Make the most of it. Tonight when I was lamenting about how I wished I was dancing at prom, I received a text from one of my students. It was a picture of her on zoom, all dressed up with a corsage around her wrist. They were just a group of friends virtually at "prom." "We miss you!" she wrote. "Happy prom!" I responded immediately telling her how much I wish I was at Atlee's prom with them right now, and how much I loved what her group of friends did. She responded that they were "making the most of it." Immediately my mindset changed. It's easy to feel sad or scared or frustrated by the world in which we currently live. I constantly feel like I'm making things up as I go, and that's okay. It's okay to be vulnerable at this time; it's okay to be sad. Yet, I've also learned the need to smile through all of this--to make the most of it.
Life is all about perspective; how we look at this point in our lives is important. My students, I wish that you didn't have to experience this in your lifetime. But we don't get to choose all of life's experiences. We do have a choice in what we do in those experiences and how we act. I'm so grateful for the students who taught me this.
All we can do is keep on going. Smile when we can. Cry if we have to. Help each other. Hold each other up. Show grace. Stay safe. Be kind. Show up for people. Know your why. Make the most of it. Tonight, I will put on dance music. Whatever song I listen to, no matter where my dance floor happens to be, I'm going to just try to keep on dancing. I hope you do the same.
