I miss…

I have finally cracked and am ready to admit (mostly to myself) that I miss my students. I was fraying at the edges; I heaved a sigh of relief at the chance to just breath without having lessons to plan and teach and assessments to mark. I left for March Break, just like they did, expecting to see one another in 2 weeks. 

It’s been 6 weeks since any of us have stepped into the hallowed halls of the school, sat in my classroom or seen one another in person. As much as I do not want to admit it, it does not seem like we will be going back to the physical environment of school until after this school year 2019-20 is over. 

My heart is heavy.

I miss..my classroom

The sunlight streams in the neat and tidy room. It is either too hot or too cold. The windows are so old that they don’t actually close properly. There is chalk everywhere, including my hands and pants. I’ve tried to “decorate” it, but it’s a high school classroom and teenagers seem to think you’re lame if you do too much to make it look like an elementary school. 

However, there are aspects of the room that they do not actually appreciate until they learn something or “see” it and make a connection. 

In my classroom, I work to build strong relationships with my students by focusing on connections. My classroom is a space where students encourage each other to try new challenges and cheer each other on, and even give each other a ribbing when they say or do something ridiculous. 

I miss…building relationships

At first, many of them don’t know me. They think they know me, because they’ve “heard” about me from the rumours and the stories or from my reputation, but they don’t really know me. Just like, I don’t know them. It takes time for us to get to know one another. Sometimes day, sometimes weeks, but usually before the end of the year, we have become a cohesive unit, a family of sorts.

They’ve learned to appreciate me as a teacher. They now know what I’m like – what my idiosyncrasies are, what drives me bonkers, how I run my classroom, when I’m kidding around and when I expect more. 

I’ve learned who they are – when something confuses them, when it makes sense, when they need to laugh, when they need to know I’m proud of their accomplishment and when they want me to know they are struggling. I see it in their faces, in their body language. I hear it in what they say and more so, in what they don’t.

I have said to my students that if the pandemic had happened in September, this whole online teaching forum would not work for me, because we would not have a relationship to fall back on in our understanding of one another. 

I miss…teaching in person

I miss my teacher radar – picking up on body language and the look in their eyes that let me know if they’re struggling with comprehension, aren’t feeling well, didn’t get enough sleep, or are upset about something. I miss using my teacher instinct – knowing pieces of information you don’t even know you know.

When you teach online, you have to flip between windows and applications and sometimes you miss the a-ha moment. No teacher would ever want to give up the a-ha moment. It is what makes the hard work worthwhile. 

Talking to a screen is not fun. It’s a little weird actually.

I hate sitting down so much. I’m not built that way. I have to walk around. Gets the blood moving. It helps my thinking. Keeps me creative. 

I miss…our talks

I love hearing everything they want to share – their hopes, dreams, worries, passions, interests and problems. 

I miss teasing them – the way they dress, the latest craze (which has moved from SnapChat to TikTok), their attempts at dancing, how the pen they are using they picked up in the hallway just before class, just life…

When a teenager wants to share with an adult, I believe you stop everything and listen. They are talking to someone, they are seeking a sounding board, or guidance and they have deemed you worthy of coming to – so you accept the heavy task.

When a teenage boy asks you to come to his *insert sport here* game, you go. Why, you ask? The answer is simple, it is something important to him and he asked you to share in that experience. Whether you go or don’t, he’ll know and it will impact how he sees you in his life.

I miss…the little moments

I took for granted all the “manly” handshakes, thumps on the back, awkward boy hugs, high fives and bad jokes each day. 

I miss the nods in the hallway, from my colleagues who went to grab a cup of coffee, to students who were once in my classroom but not this year.

I miss joking with colleagues in the math office or at the lunch table. I miss talking about last night’s Raptors game. I miss walking into another room and feeling the camaraderie of being a teacher with others I respect. 

I didn’t think I would ever miss these things, but I do. Why didn’t I appreciate these more?

I miss…traditions

I’m grieving for missed milestones: long-anticipated field trips, Batt Ball (aka Prom), Arts and Athletics assemblies and of course, the Leaving Class Ceremony. There is nothing that I, or anyone else, can say to make up for those moments and memories you are losing in what is supposed to be your last year as a high school student. 

So, what do I do?

I tell my students that I appreciate that they come to virtual class every day.

I tell my students that I miss them too. 

I let them know it’s okay to be sad and to miss being at school (even when they say it’s “weird” to miss school). 

I do what I know how to do as a teacher: I acknowledge that what we are going through is hard right now, I reassure them that this is temporary and if we do what the experts tell us to do, we will all get through this, I listen to what they want to share, and keep our class moving along, because remember, my class isn’t just a math class, it’s a life class.