For the vast majority of my students, distance learning has not been working.

Not just my classes, but the concept in general. Many report that their lives outside of school are often unstructured, unfettered, tumultuous, so the routine and predictability (and accountability) of school was what kept their footing. They miss being greeted by the principal and our awesome secretaries every single morning. They miss our one-hallway community where literally everyone knows your name. They even miss my bad dad-jokes. (I added that last one, because I’m just assuming…)

They share with me that it isn’t the content, or the tasks, or the obscure grading expectations, or the fact that they might spend hours staring at a chromebook. It is the loss of the structure of school, both literal and figurative.

While some are adrift, a handful are experiencing an academic transformation. The numbers are small, but there is something about this distance learning thing that is working for them. Let’s take one student, who I’ll call B*. Prior to March 13th, attendance was spotty. When present, B was physically present only. Despite constant attempts to connect, few of us on staff were able to claim we actually had a sustained conversation with them. In the weeks prior to the shutdown, I received two assignments from B. They weren’t defiant, and to be honest their skills (in my classes, at least) did not appear to be deficient in any significant way. B was, and is, an enigma we are continuing to work to unravel.

Transition to distance learning and this same student had nearly the highest rate of engagement of all my students. This is a student listed as homeless, with a history of bouncing from school to school, and with a outside-of-school life that instantly led to worry every time they missed school. When I asked B why distance learning seemed to work, I parsed out three trends in their (short) reply:

It is more concrete. In my regular face-to-face classroom, I rarely use multiple-choice assessments and tend to favor work that builds toward an end project such as an essay or other skills demonstration. While I work to scaffold this and create concrete steps to follow for students like B, their response makes me rethink my assessment toolkit. In essence, B told me that the “closed” nature of the multiple choice assessments I had shifted to during distance learning felt less overwhelming than the “open” nature of work we’d typically do in class (my wording, not theirs). This makes me pause and re-think my assessment strategies for when school resumes. Project-based assessment has a place, but when that mode is what contributes to disengagement, I wonder how can I better spot the need to shift completely to another approach?

It is asynchronous. B, like most teenagers, spent most of the school day tired. I noticed that nearly all of the time-stamps on work they submitted during distance learning ranged between 1am and 4am. For much of my own life, I’ve been an “early bird,” much more productive and content between the hours of 5am and 9am than any other time in the day. B, like most teenagers, is not. Getting to set their own schedule of when to do the work seemed to work for B. Rather than drag a tired body through a school day and then try to do any missing or late work outside of the school day, the less-structured nature of B’s day means sleep and work can happen whenever they need to happen. When I think ahead to “re-opening,” there’s only so much asynchronicity that can happen on a school schedule, but I wonder how we might better harness what we know about our students and about teenage development to expand how we think about time.

It is asocial. B is a solitary character. We as staff have observed that they regularly sit alone at lunch, they don’t seem to have particularly strong social ties. B is quiet. B is reserved. B will speak, minimally but respectfully, when spoken to. And being able to do school with no one else around is one of the things B seemed to like the best about distance learning. In a school environment where we as teachers feel pressure to force kids into collaboration, turn-and-talks, team projects, and whatnot (all of which I personally loathe as a lone-wolf learner), kids like B quickly shut down or hold back. The solitary nature of distance learning, away from social drama and social pressures, was the first thing B cited in their reasoning as to why things were working. How might I manage this kind of need better for my students once we re-open? I already avoid group projects for many personal and pedagogical reasons, but I wonder about the other social aspects of school that we might better attend do.

Students like B are in the distinct minority. For most of my students, the the three points above are the top reasons distance learning is not working. Maybe B is a good candidate for an online school? Maybe that will be the trend we see upon re-opening: more and more families opting to enroll kids in online public or private schools.

For many kids, B included, despite the apparent benefits of distance learning at the moment, I wonder about the stamina it will take and what will happen when the “new” wears off. I wonder about what can be done if or when there is some disruption to the electronic connection B has managed to forge. I wonder if B is getting enough to eat for whatever they might be learning to stick.

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*I’ve adjusted some details to shield B’s identity and protect their privacy, while still presenting the essential ideas I hope to share here.