How’s It Different?
I remember when the virus, SARS COV-2 was introduced to our medical vocabulary following the COVID-19 outbreak. I recall attending a stand-up meeting where an announcement to confirm that school in-person would be put to a halt. I recall my only question was something of the matter of, “Would we be back soon enough?”
I look back now and think how little I knew about SARS COV-2 back then. Before I knew it, I was sending my students and their families a letter of hope as what was left of 2019-2020 to finish strong for the school year in the classroom was physically looking meek.
Now, here we are, commencing the school year 2021-2022. I try and think of what I was like just around this time, right before I would meet and greet my students at my door, having learned that your smile means so much to their very nervous souls- another school year to get whatever we didn’t quite grasp the year before RIGHT this year, both teachers and students. A year older, a year wiser for both me and my students. I, a new face to each of them as my former ones have moved on; each of my students, a new face to me. Here’s the deal, though. Pre or post-COVID, I can tell you one thing, as I blessedly met some already, the eyes of my students have not changed.
Sure. Each roughed it out in the midst of trying to navigate through the jungles of virtual learning. Swamps were crossed, eerie silence were heard, discomforts due to the unknown were humbly felt, and realities to the eventual common scenarios forced us all, students, teachers, and parents, pushed through to the finish line until that very last day where each signed off to log out, embracing that, if I may, we can call a prize at the end of the challenge, “summer”, so we can all breathe, let go, and let live because for certain, many of us, if not all of us did the “let God” surrender to get to the momentary finish line.
It takes all of July to decompress and just sulk in the absent demands of having to think, feel, hear, and act back to back, side to side, (and turn yourself around!) day in, day out.
Many of us have to face the awaiting wrath of all the other “hoods” we juggled to put on through the year, admittedly facing the “I” for “incomplete” on our own personal report card. The hap-hazard or at times ignored standard demands of our lives await. To name a few, but not limited to, parent “hood”, spouse “hood”, pet “hood”, neighbor “hood”, or for the fight of endless good, we can’t forget our thoughts to at least attempt the character of Robin “hood”.
We, perhaps just vulnerably me, arrive to that moment where you think to yourself, “It is finished.” And, no. Teachers almost immediately should get this gut feel that, in our world, that’s a lie. In a teacher’s mindset, that means summer = resurrection. Hence, you momentarily embrace life knowing inevitably, you must prepare soon enough to face another year again. Or, if you’ve taught long enough, perhaps the powerful truth is, you died and now you rise to say, in the words of the song, “Rise Up” sung by Andra Day, “And I’ll do it a thousand times again”. That’s July for this teacher.
As August arrives, there’s a push and pull of finishing summer strong into starting another school year right. Just when you feel you’ve settled, General Spirit kicks you out of that comfortable chair to get you going for training again. Literally on the training part because unknown to most of the rest of the world, thrown before us in 3-4 days before another school year are all of our “battle” errors with blueprints (or aerial satellite views) of our next “point of attack” aka, attendance, behavior, testing results, to start, sprinkled with drive for equity and restitution throughout. CDC restrictions- a given. Ready. Set. Get out there, soldier! Our children are counting on you!
Still, pre or post-COVID, I arrive to the same final self talk, beyond my endless thoughts of how to do things better, wiser, and stronger, I remind myself, teach them something remarkable or absolutely nothing at all, “All they want from you is to see you smile.”
I remember this because my favorite aunt made me feel I was the luckiest person in the world when she, as a dearly respected teacher, gave me that smile multi-decades ago, having empowered me to walk across a room full of teachers so she could place a peso in my hand. That similar and yet, ever powerful smile, this time, from Mrs. Hundley’s face, who made this “take apart your hand-me-downs and sew them to something new ‘uniquely dressed’ student” feel like she was the most beautiful thing in this world upon the words that followed, “Girl, you could wear a potato sack and still be the most beautiful girl to see!” She made me believe all the way through that day I walked with my buddy, Martin, as crowned queen, all those games I cheered before my fellow classmates and their families, spoke before my graduating classmates in my academy and to follow, my entire graduating class- all to the many unknowing that I held two jobs at times after school to survive school itself. “I am beautiful” lyrics sung by Christina Aguilera was long and repeatedly spoken by me before she even uttered those words before a microphone. I used to say that to myself in front of a mirror over and over again, remembering Mrs. Hundley’s words so many years back as I tried to ignore my familiar impoverished background and all the equally familiar words of hopelessness constantly whispering in my ear.
Even today, those smiles, with the resilience of that same “uniquely dressed” girl I still am, those smiles push me through, having arrived at the opportunity of having to put together more than just hand-me-downs now. If I shine a little, it was because those beautiful faces that looked down upon me as a child smiled at me so big.
Yes. My class is set for my students to enter and settle in for the year of learning and growing some more. Whatever lies ahead, I’ve got this… again. Still, pre or post-COVID, I will remind myself to not see a classroom full of students. I will and am always reminded to see the eyes of Tammy, Sara, David, Christopher and I sitting in my room- just to name a few of my own classmates along the way, waiting for me to look at each of those eyes and without force, give each a genuine and loving smile.
Here’s to another year of my greatest fear as a teacher, “If not me, then who?” We’ve got this. Let’s go, soldier.
