The two days of parent orientation with which we begin our year is usually extremely pleasant. I have 30 minutes blocks, to begin to get to know, or reconnect, with my students and their families, as we ease into the school year. It is always busy, but not rushed, and allows students to get a feel for being in back in the building, making for a shorter week for everyone.
This year was similar to years past, and like everything else this year, it was entirely different.
Overall, like years past, the conversations were pleasant, interesting, and illuminated the great range of abilities and needs in my classroom. Like years past, I was very excited to see some students with whom I would be working with for a second year, and to meet my new students, whose feelings about school and their learning, and by extension themselves, are often immediately evident, even from behind their masks.
Regardless of the crazy world circumstances, it is still a new school year, and there is a special feeling, of anticipation and the potential of all the learning and growth it holds that is palpable when sitting down with a family and asking, "So, how are you feeling about school?"
There were moments, over the course of the many conversations, when the global pandemic could be put aside, and we could talk about school, learning, and the needs and interests of each child could be addressed. With each family, we talked about school subjects, schedules, and learning in a cohort of two classes, with two teachers, and one community of learners, even though the only room we will all share is a virtual one. Kids were excited about what they like, what they want to learn, and some goals and challenges- or they weren't. Over the course of the days, in many ways, the conversations with my families were as they have always been.
Until they weren't. Some parents were more polite, and waited until I formally asked if they had any questions, and for others it was the first words out of their mouths, but whenever it came, the question I heard over and over again was, "So how many kids will be in the classroom?"
As I responded 23, and they each looked at the large tables around the room, some big, a few single desks, and the window stools, the expressions in their eyes ranged from concern to one dad with sheer panic behind their masks.
I did my best to assuage their concerns with the assurances that masks will be worn in the class, we will sanitize our hands regularly- never mind that we are outside in a portable and all the sinks are in the building- and spend as much time outside as possible, especially while the weather is good. At times I really believed what I was saying, and I am actually encouraged by the science around masks. But then again, don't I have to be?
At the same time, I didn't sugarcoat anything. Sitting in the space, I stated it was obvious with 23 bodies we wouldn't be able to stay more than a meter apart. Some who arrived later saw the Plexiglas barriers that will allow for some separation between those sitting together, as well as support students who want to work together. It is certainly not ideal, but it is something.
I was as optimistic and encouraging as I could possibly be, and also reminded many parents of the power of their voices, and that they should express their concerns beginning at the top of the food chain, with the premier, and then with the minister of education, their MLA's and school trustees. I assured them that I already had on several occasions and will continue to do so as well.
As many times as I answered questions about the number of the students in the classroom, I also stated quite plainly that our school leaders and every teacher, including me, are doing the very best we can with what we have, and care as much about the health and safety of their children as they do.
I am not sure how much it reassured each of them, but it helped me, as once again, it is pretty much all I have got.
I don't have answers for many of their questions.
I can't answer how 23 students in a room for several hours over the course of the day is okay in school, when in every other place every person is required to socially distance by 2 meters?
I can't explain what happens at lunch, when those same 23 kids, who have been in the same room all day, have to take off their masks and eat at the same desks on which they have worked. We can't avoid sharing some supplies. We can disinfect between use, and we can disinfect the tables, but if the kids can't touch the disinfectant because it is too strong for them to use, and need someone to clean for them, then who does it fall on, but teachers? In addition, kids are eating on the tables on which we are using harsh chemicals. I don't know how this is okay?
When parents asked why their 8th grader needs to attend every day, but their 9th or 10th grader is in a socially distanced learning environment, because they are going every other day, it was pretty easy to explain that schools are being used so the economy can function and kids have where to go, but I couldn't explain why this is okay.
It was easy tell parents all the measures we were putting in place to keep their children healthy, happy, and safe in school, from the creative ideas our music teachers have, adjusting all the instruments they play, and even teaching choir without singing, to the idea of cohorts, staggered schedules, cleaning, Plexiglas barriers, masks, walking kids back and forth, moving furniture, not using lockers and microwaves, and a million other little things.
What is impossible to say is if these measures will be enough. Will it be enough to maintain the quality of teaching, leaving teachers with the time and resources to implement their programs and provide learning experiences for which students can take ownership, while still ensuring the safety of students and staff, and some sense of sanity for teachers?
Our school leaders are responding swiftly to requests for equipment to support student earning, and their staff, within the constraints placed upon them- again not really new, just a new feat in different times. I have heard it described that they are building the airplane while already in flight. They have been open and flexible, and conceded that much of what we are doing is based upon trial and error.
Having 23, 12-13 year-old students in a room, in which we are unable to maintain 1 metre of social distancing, even assuming they can all wear masks correctly all the time, and never eat and drink, is going to be a mistake. All the doctors and science has said so. Schools opening in other places in the world have shown it.
So, if we know something is an error, why do we have to try it?
Of course, I don't have an answer, and at this point, I don't really expect one, though I will copy and paste all of my questions and send off another email to all the powers that be, because at this point, why not?
It is all I know I can do.
As for tomorrow, I will be excited to meet my students, as they will be there to be met, and from there energy grows.
I left my room in disarray, because I still hadn't decided what to do with the desks and tables to make students comfortable and keep them safely distanced. I realized the answer lies where it often does, with them. I will give them some options, and we can decide together. We will figure it out as we go. It seems it will be the theme of the year, so we might as well embrace it.
We will meditate. Maybe with masks in the classroom, maybe outside. Maybe we will start outside, and then determine how to set up the room. I am lucky. I have outside space and an abundance of chairs. I have choices and I am grateful for that.
Whatever tomorrow brings, it will bring another first day of school, and I will do the best I can, just like I do every year.
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