Hey, teachers. How are you? Tough week, huh?

Me? I’m okay, just a bit lonelier than usual. I am alone in my classroom, alone with empty desks, blank whiteboards, and quiet halls. It is eerie and unsettling. It puts everything in perspective for me. I’m trying to consider it a gift, insomuch as I can in these difficult times.

As you know, all schools in our state are closed, but our local administrators have some leeway in the management of the closures. The situation is fluid, and changes daily, but this is what I am currently experiencing. The school buildings are closed to the public until at least April 27. We are delivering food and grade-level learning packets via bus routes. Families who prefer can call ahead and pick up meals and supplies at our school offices during abbreviated hours. Classified staff are still busy, at least part time, doing odd jobs, disinfecting the facilities, copying the packets, preparing the breakfasts and lunches, delivering the food and supplies, and providing childcare to local first responders and healthcare workers. 

As for the teachers, we are expected to work seven-hour days and log our activities daily. This week we are preparing the learning packets, creating activities that can help our students progress without our day-to-day contact. We are asked to stay in touch with families and make weekly calls to the students in our advisories. We can clean and organize our classrooms. We can sign up for online classes. We can read books or watch online professional development videos. We can work at home if we so choose.

I see other teachers in my social media feeds creating cool online resources for their students, but we are encouraged to plan for the many students in our district who won’t have internet access. We are rural, a bit remote, and we have a large population that is often displaced or even homeless. It’s complicated.

As for me, I am doing both. I’m sending home photocopied Shakespeare with guides and resources. I’m also creating lists of links  to online sources, as well as planning video presentations, online meetings, and Flipgrid activities. Some of my students will benefit from the extra work I plan to do, so it’s worth it, required or not.

I will have the opportunity to finally organize the Drama Room, with all the costumes, puppets, props and furniture that continually overflow and clutter our space. I will complete my National Board renewal, and I will read some of those books that have been piling up.

There is a lot to appreciate about this gift of time and perspective. However, I’m truly heartsick without those kids. The empty desks haunt me. My classroom was full of conversations about our troubles and our joys. We worked out stress together. We laughed, we grumbled, we played, and we problem-solved.

Initially, I was so worried for my students. Did they have enough to eat? Were they safe and healthy? Did they have someone to talk to about all the craziness in the world today? But now I realize that I’m the one who needs them. Constantly seeing the world through the eyes of 12-18-year olds is such a privilege. They give me hope. They keep me young, and they inspire me to do my best.

My perspective is shifting in this strange and lonely time. It seems that I am merely a catalyst in my classroom, and those wonderful souls that join me there are the precious cargo on this journey. I hope they make good use of this free time. I hope they get lots of fresh air and exercise. I hope they see how humans can be kind and generous in times of struggle. I hope they don’t suffer too much from the loss of anticipated field trips, dances, concerts, games, competitions, and performances. I hope they remember this year with a quaint fondness, as that one spring they got an extra long vacation.

As for my seniors, students I have had in my classes and/or my advisory for six straight years, I really hope that we can salvage this year for them somehow. They were in the middle of some truly dynamic learning, creating, and planning. They are a fantastic group of humans- strong, driven, intelligent, kind, funny, and creative. They deserved our annual trip to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. They deserved an amazing last prom together. They deserved their senior trip to Ocean Shores. They deserved their last years in track, baseball, and softball. They deserved state competitions in Knowledge Bowl and FBLA.

Most of all, they deserved our annual hug line the day before graduation, where all the staff and student body parade past them and shake their hands and hug them one last time.

What I wouldn’t give to be able to hug those kids with no worries now.

So, I know it’s not the most important thing happening in the world today, but this is my perspective. I’m a heartsick and lonely teacher, just waiting for my kids to return.

So, how are you? I hope you’re holding up under the stress. And, I bet I’m not the only one feeling the loss.

Stay well and spread the love in any way you can. With a heart as full as yours, you’ve got a lot to give.