When I was in college, I was a voracious and brave eater. I would boast to my friends, “Ice cream, sushi, pizza; even when they’re bad, it’s still better than no ice cream, sushi, or pizza.”
I was 19 and narrow-minded about a lot, not just gas-station sushi.
Now I’m pushing 40 and willing to spend double the money to have excellent ice cream, sushi, or pizza. The truth I’ve found in the last half of my life is this:
The worst version of something is not better than none of it.
The Worst Version of School
Teammates in Bonita USD, friends on Twitter and elsewhere, and I have spent a long time prepping to teach online. I’ve sent probably dozens of tweets about relationships first and making students feel less stressed online.
Hell, taking a brave risk was my theme at two webinars I gave this summer.
But here’s the thing.
We’re all thinking it.
This… just… sucks.*
Getting ready for the first day of school and driving to a nearly-empty campus to sit in front of a screen and teach in an empty classroom?
That sounds like purgatory designed to torture teachers like me. A school with no kids in it? School where the relationships are minimized and everything is delivered through a Chromebook and an 11-inch screen?
Ugh.
My 2nd-grader has to navigate between her Zoom window and Chrome quickly enough to track with her teacher. She’s a strong reader and a great communicator. She has two parents who value education and can be present during school. She has her own device from school, a quiet place to work, and reliable internet, and she is overwhelmed and frustrated daily. Today it was, “I hate distance learning and I wanna be back in school!”
For most of my career as a teacher, I’ve felt like master and commander of all that happens within my four walls.
If a kid needs water or food, go to my snack drawer.
Squirrelly and needing a break? Take these Post-its down to Ms. Allizadeh’s class.
You’re pissed because your friend is being mean? Come eat lunch in here; you don’t have to sit with them today and maybe we try again tomorrow.
I can’t do anything to help most of the barriers facing students while they learn remotely. If the kids in my home—who have won privilege bingo and are well-prepared to be successful—are struggling, how in the world can I reach the kids who don’t have all these resources?
As the master and commander of my four walls, I’m feeling ownership and responsibility for this, the worst version of school.
But Marian said it well:
You did not conspire to create these conditions. None of us did. While I know that you are busy looking for the right answer to your moral dilemmas, and the right platform and right tools, none exist. And that is not your fault.
Marian Dingle (link)
As we begin to scramble and do the best for our kids, it’s important that we remember:
China—where COVID-19 originated—has been back in school since May.
Italy—the European nation with the highest infection rate in March—is back to school next month.
The countries who are still remote-learning are broadcasting educational content via TV and radio, hosting Ed/Tech resources for free on government sites, and enforcing mask mandates in public places (source).
As a teacher, I find myself slipping into self-blame while attempting to structure the best digital environment I can. By taking responsibility for distance learning, I’m discretely inheriting the blame for the worst version of school.
Let’s remind ourselves:
With leadership that recognized the COVID-19 threat early and attempted to prevent the spread, this would be very different.
So I’m pointing my frustrating toward DC, not toward myself.
~Matt “making Adobe Spark graphics to control my frustration” Vaudrey
*NOTE: This idea does not discount the hard work that teachers like John are doing to make distance learning as meaningful as possible. I can’t wait to see how y’all do when you’re allowed to fully flex your muscles back in a brick-and-mortar classroom.