The Day It Started
I remember the day it started, we probably all do. It was a day of "shouldn't have been". The doors were all closed...and they shouldn't have been. The classrooms were all empty...and they shouldn't have been. The halls were silent...and they shouldn't have been. The flag was folded neatly and sitting on the desk in my office...and it shouldn't have been. It was our first day back at school following Spring break 2020 and the school was empty...and it shouldn't have been.
We all remember, don't we, the terrifying reality we all faced that first week everything shut down during the early days of the COVID-19 scare. We weren't sure what was happening. Were we safe? Would anything that had just closed its doors ever reopen? Was school, as we knew it, over? I was the only person in the building. I was tasked with "sanitizing" a school so that students and staff could return safely and finish out the school year. They never did.
One of the great lessons that I learned during my time looking out from the Janitor's closet was that school is more about relationships than it is about 'rithmetic. Reading and writing are important for learning but relationships are essential. What I saw each day in my school solidified my belief in the fact that teaching can take place anywhere but it takes a school setting for children to learn. This post isn't some political statement about shutdowns or school boards, online or in person. This post is about one thing and one thing only, family, in particular the school family.
As I went about my sanitizing duties on that first day I was swallowed up by the silence. I had worked many days during school vacations and had never once been taken back by the silence of the school. It was vacation, the school was supposed to be empty and quiet. This was different. This was one of those times when you were supposed to hear laughing children and excited teachers, and I didn't. I was missing something deep inside me. Something that I had gotten used to that wasn't there anymore. Much like a loved one who passes, their presence is missed. My school had died and I missed it.
I believe too many times we get bogged down in to trying to come up with new and improved ways to teach and learn. Granted, those things are important. However, in that frenetic pace of curriculum search and behavioral adaptations I think we fail to accentuate one of the more important aspects of learning...each other.
I was lucky enough to work in a school that was a family. Yes, we fought and disagreed at times. Yes, we hurt each other's feelings. And, yes, there were times that the family struggled. But, in the end, we did all these things as a family. For eight to 10 hours a day, four or five days a week, both staff and student spend their days together. Whether we want to acknowledge it or not from August through May each year we live and learn, struggle and succeed, primarily in the company of the those who trek each day to fill the school.
My point is this, the pandemic has upended all of our lives, our jobs, and our schools. And maybe, just maybe, some of the struggles we saw in our educational systems this past year and a half weren't completely to blame on Zoom or Google Classroom, parents or teachers, Trump or Biden. Maybe our struggles were rooted in the soil of something deeper...grief. In March of 2020 our schools died. I'm not suggesting that teaching died. Our teachers were champions as they struggled to provide the best learning environment for each one of their students. What I am suggesting is that the school, as a family unit, died. Our interactions were relegated to our computer screens and our conversations to text messages. We missed a lot during that season of fear but, I think, what we missed the most was each other.
Schools have now begun to churn back to life. My hope is that this experience will provide perspective for everyone in our educational system. And if anyone wants to take some advice from a former custodian who spent countless hours sanitizing an empty school building this would be my suggestion. Concentrate on curriculum but focus on relationships. Teachers, cherish the time you have with students and peers. Cultivate your relationships with each other. And, students, don't take for granted the time you have with each other. Seize the moment you have right now.
The halls were too silent during that season of fear. So, cherish the hectic, chatty, noisy classroom each and every day. And cherish the greatest gift our schools provide...each other.
I'll see you next time!
Derek