THEN
Almost everything I need to teach math or ELA or science or social studies or health is in my classroom. Student books. Math tests. ELA papers.
NOW
I sent some of the books home with the kids on that ill-fated Friday the 13th: math, science, and Roald Dahl’s autobiography Boy. Per instructions, I sent home papers for six weeks’ worth of work.
The work I sent home immediately became “optional” once we learned that we could not require or grade any work sent home. Then, a couple of weeks later, we learned we could start instruction again.
The additional books and papers I want to use with my students for the rest of the year are in my classroom. There is no way to get them to my students now.
I have to check for coronavirus-era copyright access for materials for my students. For some of the materials, I have to scan (once I get permission) stacks of pages and email them to families. (At least I have the stuff at home!) I have to search the web for open-source materials.
THEN
I think of teaching as a performance art. I make eye contact with my kids as I teach. I respond to their body language, their facial expressions.
I walk around the room, monitoring multiple small groups. I manage behaviors quietly, usually with humor.
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