Coronavirus/Covid-19 is here. Being in the Seattle area, we are at the forefront of the pandemic. Wednesday at 2 pm we learned school would be shut down for six weeks starting Monday. We already had a teacher in-service planned for Friday. Thursday was one big stressball as we all frantically tried to prepare students and ourselves to leave school.
Our school is moving to a digital learning environment for the next six weeks. This is good because it means our students will get to keep learning and parents will not be on their own to “homeschool.” The downside is this means that teachers on Friday will learn how to use a new platform and by Monday need to have things ready to go. We also need to do report cards. This is a lot. Really. Truly. A lot.
Dave and I have a “date” and talk about what life is going to look like. How are we going to work from home while still parent? I need him to be present. I can’t do this alone.
Doctors warned me that increased stress would be triggers for my condition. I can now say they were not wrong. We gathered as a staff Friday (our chairs generously spaced). We were supposed to talk about Accreditation, but everyone was too focused at the immediately looming task at hand. We were released into groups to help one another learn how to use other aspects of our programs. I personally had never used Google Forms. I taught others helpful aspects of our online math program. Lower elementary teachers don’t normally use Google Classroom. I learned a ton of technology in the course of several hours. Stress. Stress. Stress. Jazz hand reappears.
My partner, Austin, and I, develop a plan and craft a letter to our 6th grade parents. There is so much to figure out and not enough time. Stress. Stress. Stress. My stutter picks up.
Back home I get to work. I work until about 9 pm and then crash. Saturday I am up early. Dave, who had taken over the home office, has cleared the space so I can set up my work station. While Dave then proceeds to amazing amounts of spring cleaning, I work. I stop to take Eileen for a haircut. We go out to brunch and the restaurant, normally bursting, is near empty. I make sure to tip more than 20%. Eileen declares it the best pancake she has ever had.
My “break” over, I work. The kids want screens. I make them each log on to our new digital platform, Zoom, and join a “meeting.” We spend the next 30 minutes learning together. It was fun. Linus was especially adept at finding features, like sharing work from his Google Drive. Their help lets me begin to envision instructional possibilities.
As the kids happily enjoy their well earned screens, I work. I’m a super organized teacher, but that doesn’t mean every lesson automatically ready to go digital. I craft digital quizzes to hold students accountable for learning. I use an app, Cam Scan, to turn work into PDFs. Then I upload said PDFs. I adjust assignments that had students using computers, to be done without my presence or requiring drawing. I figure out how to use my document camera while “meeting” with my students. I have to teach slope and solving systems of equations virtually!
I work and work. Emails continuously roll in from students, parents, and teachers. Kids and parents are anxious. The good news is the emails mean the kids are already accessing Google classroom. I can tell the other teachers are working just as frantically as me.
As I work, I am also continuously washing bedding because household needs don’t end. I try to find ways for the learning to be fun. I work some more. The kids keep coming in and asking me how to earn screens. No matter how many times I tell them to go ask daddy, they return. Linus cooks dinner. It’s a relief.
8:45 pm I stop. I can no longer speak coherently. Both hands shake and tremor with uncontrolled force. It hasn’t been like this since the early days of my injury. I check on the comforter in the dryer that refuses to dry and then shower. I then lie on the bed and tremor. I’ve almost forgotten what this feels like. The tremors settle enough that I can turn on the television. I look for something light and mindless.
10:45 pm. The stupid comforter is finally dry. I retrieve it from the laundry room, lay it on the bed. Dave and bask it in warmth and heaviness. Sleep comes quickly.
7:35 am Sunday. I’m awaken by screams over the Big I-pad. I sit up and have to stop. The twitches and tremors overtake me and I wait for them to settle before beginning my day.
8:15 am Sunday. The house is filled with the smell of cinnamon rolls baking in the over (the refrigerated kind, I’m not that good). My phone starts pinging with emails. All the teachers are up and working. Teachers may get a bad rap sometimes, but we really do love our students, even the hard ones. We are not about to let a virus keep us from being there for our students emotionally or in terms of education.
Covid-19 is forcing me to quickly evolve and grow as a teacher. Tomorrow my partner, Austin, and I are hosting a virtual “party.” I can’t wait to see the kids. I know they are scared and feeling out of sorts. I hope that seeing their two main teachers will be a little bit of a source of comfort.