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  2022-01-16

  Still On Spring Break?

  As a teacher and a parent, navigating the tricky educational waters after COVID-19 in 2020 has proven challenging. Many of my teacher friends left the profession due to unsafe working conditions and the emotional distress resulting from unsupportive school districts, irrational demands from parents, and severe behavioral issues exhibited by students coping in their own ways. In March 2020, we went on Spring Break, and some of us never came back, some literally and others emotionally. Teachers that are still teaching – whether online or in person – are now contending with the aftermath of school closures and the intense pressure put on them to return despite concerns about safety. Teacher burnout has hit hard, and there are even some days I have to remind myself why I became a teacher. I know students are dealing with their own transition back into some kind of normalcy. My own daughters exhibit an anxiety that’s hard to miss – and something I can relate to, and I’m devastated that they missed out on junior prom and an in-person 8th grade graduation. The little milestones and memory-makers that they’ll one day look back on as adults have been replaced by a year of quarantine, Zoom classes, and missing their friends. Many of my students have also expressed sadness and frustrating having missed some of the hallmarks of “the high school experience”. Likewise, teachers missed milestones and cultivating relationships with their students. There’s still a lot of ground to make up on both sides.
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  2020-03-19

  Pandemic Smells and Silence

  When the pandemic became widespread enough for schools to start shutting down, it seems that’s when life really changed. I remember - it was March 2020 - and my school district had just gone on spring break. It was still uncertain whether teachers and students would be returning to their classroom after break’s end. We were asked to come into our classrooms to gather any teaching supplies we might be able to use to teach virtually in the event that we would be told to remain at home. When I arrived at school, it was so quiet. There were a few cars parked in the parking lot, but no people to be seen. The usual student chatter, catching fragments of conversation as they walked by, the bustle of cars parking was gone. As I entered my building, a wave of chemically cleaned and sanitized air blasted my nostrils. The smells of bleach and whatever other industrial cleaners schools use wafted through the halls. They had recently been cleaned - I had never seen them so pristine. A few custodian cleaning carts were scattered nearby, but still no one to be seen. Every footfall seemed louder against the backdrop of silence. The deserted hallway and the chemical smell assaulting my olfactory system had turned my second home into something sterile and unwelcoming. Entering my classroom, I noticed it, too, had been sanitized with heavy chemicals and a jug of hand sanitizer had unceremoniously been plopped on my desk. I surveyed my classroom, nostrils burning from the bleach again, grabbed what I needed and went home. It would be the last time I would see my classroom for a long time. The memory of that shining, white hallway and the burning air of “purification” has stayed with me.