It's not just the end of summer I'm mourning

 

 

 

Tomorrow, I go back to work.  I love my job as a reading interventionist.  It's my calling in life and seeing my students learn to read when they struggled before is one of the most rewarding things in my life. 

But this year is different, so different. 

I normally feel a bit of remorse at the end of summer, I don't like getting up early.  I don't like having to plan out my lunches or making sure I have all my things I need for work.  But, I usually get over it, because the joy of seeing those students that I have missed so dearly over the summer always outweighs the regret of summer's end.

But not this year.

I'm crying as I type this. 

This year, I will be going back to work, yes, but my students won't be there to hug me and tell me all the awesome things they did over the summer. 

This year, we will be starting school online only.  We don't really know for how long.  The governor has set a tentative date for September 7th.  But things change so quickly.  I can only hope it will be 3 weeks that I will be isolated from my students and teaching them through a computer screen in a world where the internet connection is unstable and not everyone has equal access to internet.  Some kids don't have it all and though the internet companies are trying to make sure they do.  It's not good enough, not all students are connected, nor are the teachers.

But, that's not why I'm sad. 

This year, when I usually start feeling joy at seeing my students, I'm feeling sadness.  Sadness for my students who won't get to play with their friends.  Sadness for my son, who struggles with online learning.  Sadness for myself, who clearly is not cut out to be an online teacher.  Sadness for the other staff members.  So many of them have said that they are not feeling the joy of going back either.

No, it's not the end of summer I'm mourning.  I'm mourning for the way things used to be, the way things should be for students to thrive.  The way things were before COVID.   Yes, I know some students do well with online school, but not all do, and not all teachers do well with online teaching.  I'm one of those. 
Yes, I can make it work, but when you sit in your classroom, and all is quiet, there are no children in the there, laughing, talking, working, the school is a very, very lonely place without their shining faces. 

I'm mourning for the way I'm used to teaching, hands on, in the moment.  It's what my particular students need in order to learn to read.  My students are the ones that don't do well with online school and struggle keeping up in a world of demanding technology that doesn't always work.  They are the ones that need me to point my finger at the word because they got lost while reading.  They are the ones that struggle to sound out simple words.  They are the ones who need someone there with them, in person, to keep them on track.  They are the ones that need to learn hands on, multi-sensory techniques and procedures to help them succeed in a print heavy academic world.  They are the ones that cried because they couldn't come in to see me in person.  They were the ones who worried I wouldn't be able to teach them online.  They were the ones who missed physically being in school the most because they lost their support system.  Or they felt like they did.  I was there for them, and I always will be, but in a world of uncertainty, these are the ones who are anxious and worried about what this school will bring.

Those are the ones I mourn for.  Those are the ones I sit here crying for as I type this.  But, they are also the reason that I am going back, despite less than ideal circumstances.  Because they are the reason I teach.