Like everyone who leaves the house each day, teachers and their students are continuing to adapt to the evolving changes that are put in place to keep us all safe. What amazes me, and I comment on it often to my loved ones, is that the boys and girls in room 208 are adept at adapting. It's really incredible. I have always believed that having effective classroom routines in place helps students to build community, confidence, reduce anxiety and prepare for the unexpected moments (e.g. the teacher is absent, yet students still know what to do). This year, there are many, many new routines and a lot of the old ones are on hold.
Something I wasn't quite prepared for this particular year is just how often the routines themselves would change. In the past, I had confidence in knowing many of my routines were well-honed, time-tested, refined, perfected (←insert whatever other word you can think of that means "they were good and they worked") and that made for a great learning environment. I admire my students for their positivity, flexibility and an overall attitude that says, "No problem Mrs. M, we'll do it this way now.". Things are literally constantly changing.
Sometimes I feel like I did back in my first year of teaching: thrilled to be a teacher, but also a little overwhelmed. Like my colleagues, I'm doing what needs to be done each day to keep my students healthy and safe, while still providing (←often creating) meaningful learning activities that are also mindful of new health and safety protocols.
You see, there's no partner math, no "turn to your elbow partner and talk about xyz" , no gathering at the carpet for class meetings...a lot of "no". Even learning games where we can still socially distance are tough to find or create. Throw into the mix a new math curriculum, (and I don't speak for all teachers here) that is a bit tricky to execute without professional resources to refer to. I love neat and tidy packages like math units. Unit 1 this month, Unit 2 next month: that's how this teacher brain works. So that's been a bit tricky for me to get used to.
Side note: I do think the new math curriculum is a going to be an effective program, especially once I've had a year to work with it.
For me, time seems to be my biggest enemy. I'm finding a lot of it is spent, I don't know, reinventing the wheel? If you're a teacher, perhaps you relate. Finding new ways to present material that does not include the skill-based games we played last year, the skits to demonstrate our learning, or the partner writing task, takes time. Perhaps I'm making it too complicated for myself, but I'm working on that. Mrs. M in the time of Covid is still finding her way, but she's grateful for the wisdom and creativity of Pre-Covid Mrs. M.
Time is likely the reason this blog and my other social media platforms have not been as active as I'd like them to be, but I'm working on that too. Perhaps it's time to lower the bar temporarily and not sweat the typos, the fact that after 30 minutes, I still couldn't come up with a title for this blog post, the bulletin board that's empty and the Halloween art that was only recently taken down and sent home. Again, if you're a teacher, maybe you feel this way too.
And speaking of bulletin boards, my classroom looks different, and I'm struggling with that because it's always been a source of pride for me. I've "lived" in that little apartment for over 16 years and it felt like a second home to us. Now, with no table groups, no cozy furniture with pillows, no carpet and no class family photos, it's made for a different learning environment. We're trying though, and that's actually the point of this very wordy blog post. We're trying so, so very hard to find ways to see the smiles behind the masks, to laugh, to build community, to build relationships with each other, to play (a lot...we need to play a lot more than ever) and ya, sometimes have art on a Tuesday morning, just because.
It's all so very, very different.
But the kids ❤️
They are, once again, adept at adapting and I'm learning from them.
It's pretty incredible how patient they are when the technology doesn't work the way it should, when the video I made has no sound, when the computer needs to be restarted in order to work right or while they wait for the yellow group, then the green group, the red group and finally, the blue group, to go to their lockers to get ready for outdoor play. They. Are. So. Patient. And I'll also add, respectful of one another. They're not huffing and puffing about someone moving slowly then they'd like. They wait, with masks on, for their turn...just like we all (should do) wherever we go out in the world these days. They are such good citizens.
One thing I often remark this time of year is that we start to feel like a little family in Room 208. I was worried that a lack of a carpet, partner play and making pancakes for the kids on a random Friday would mean that wouldn't happen this year, but somehow it has. We are very much a little family that is unique to anything I have ever experienced and it brings much joy and peace to this teacher heart.
We look out for each other, we're exceptionally hardworking and helpful and you know what, sure, we don't have that big red "family room" carpet to meet at each day, but there are a lot of things we do have: big hearts, compassion, laughter, the occasional treat 😉 and a teacher who is always looking to find safe ways to bring back some of what has always made room 208 so great.
On a super-lighter note, part of wanting to make things as safe and efficient for my students as possible often means that the routine for "abc" that we had yesterday has now been turned upside down and completely revised. I love that when my teacher brain has no room left for remembering all the changes, I have 20 personal assistants who do.
I honestly think this is why we are doing pretty okay in room 208, given all that's happening out there. We're all working together and finding our way, and isn't that what families do?
In closing, I'll teach my students how to improve their reading, how to multiply and what life was like for a Canadian kid in 1850, and they'll continue to teach me how to shrug, exhale and say, "No problem, we'll do it this way now."
