I鈥檓 not typically one for public confessionals, but too many musings are scrambling my brain. And, as I tell my students often, sometimes to make sense of them, you just have to write them down.
First, I find myself鈥攁s do most of my teaching brethren鈥攊n the unique position of having abruptly transitioned into a remote instructor. Cool. I鈥檝e been looking forward to experimenting more with Google form quizzes anyway.
But as I sit here trying to plan for (at least) two weeks鈥� worth of online English lessons, reading checks, and assessments, I feel troublingly unmotivated (at least in part) to do a good job of it. Mind you, I won鈥檛 slack. But I鈥檓 not entirely hopeful. As I told my students last week (when in every class someone asked the what-if-we-close question): 鈥淭rust me ... you don鈥檛 want this. You don鈥檛 want two straight weeks of online school.鈥� (And that was also back when we thought schools would just be closed for 14 days.)
鈥淲hy not?鈥� they鈥檇 say.
鈥淏ecause,鈥� I鈥檇 respond, 鈥淚magine getting one of my 鈥楾oday鈥檚 Tasks鈥� emails that you get when I鈥檓 sick ... every day. Times eight. For two weeks.鈥�
I find myself鈥攁s do most of my teaching brethren鈥攊n the unique position of having abruptly transitioned into a remote instructor."
[Long pause.] 鈥淥h. Yeah, that鈥檒l suck.鈥�
And they鈥檙e right. It will suck. But not necessarily for the reasons that might seem more obvious. Yeah, it鈥檚 a lot of work. And, yeah, they didn鈥檛 sign up for online schooling, and, yeah, some of them don鈥檛 have great鈥攐r any鈥攊nternet access at home. But that鈥檚 just the surface.
Long before we knew anything about coronavirus, I decided to completely revise and retool my research paper unit for the 2019-2020 school year: new prompt, new materials, new models and samples, interactive Google doc tools, templates, thesis submission forms, peer-review strategies, special tutorials鈥攖he works. The results were unreal. I had 100 percent of my juniors fully engaged, even invested, in their work. They鈥檝e learned how to take a topic and turn it into a research question. They鈥檝e learned not to cherry-pick data from sources that merely echo their preferred media and have instead gone through the intellectual challenge of first finding credible information and then making up their minds about an issue. They鈥檝e wrestled with preconceptions they once had about their topics and recognized, in some cases, aspects about their subject matter that they鈥檇 never thought to explore. They used to ask me questions like, 鈥淪o, do I have to, like, use quotes in my paper?鈥� This year, they鈥檙e asking things like, 鈥淪o when I did my research initially, I found this source, but I don鈥檛 think it鈥檚 really relevant to my thesis anymore. Can I switch it out for this new article I found because it鈥檚 much more in line with what my topic turned into. And, oh yeah, I think I figured out how to cite it. But can you double check that I did it right because it鈥檚 an old newspaper article I found from my public library鈥檚 database?鈥�
Do I ramble on to toot my own horn? No. (Or at least, I don鈥檛 think so.) I merely reflect on just one of the many multi-faceted disciplines I and my colleagues are tasked with teaching and engaging young minds in every day, and I know that in this case, at the very least, my students are engaged because I鈥檓 engaged. I鈥檓 right there with them. I鈥檓 flipping the classroom. I鈥檓 hopping between desks and helping them realize they鈥檙e halfway to solving their problems before I can even reach them. I鈥檓 answering their questions with questions of my own and helping them see they already have the answers. I鈥檓 watching a kid who once struggled in my class now beautifully articulate why the Houston Astros cheating scandal is going to forever change the game of baseball and watch how proud he is that he has dozens of testimonials and evidence from his MLB favorites backing him up. And that last verb is key: I鈥檓 watching it. Or at least ... I was.
Coronavirus is serious. I鈥檓 not disputing that. We have to take measures to minimize what we can in a national health crisis, and as an almost mother-of-two with a frail 92-year-old grandfather who鈥攔egardless of quarantine measures鈥攕till must leave his residence every three weeks for treatment at a heavily trafficked, urban hospital, I鈥檓 on board with what our Ohio Gov. DeWine and others have recommended. So, yes, online schooling, here we come.
But am I risking a Jerry Maguire moment here? Am I holding up that incendiary company memo that will get me promptly fired if I suggest that maybe ... we try not to be too good at it? That a statewide shut-down of schools once and for all confirms for everyone the vital role of the teacher in the classroom?
I鈥檝e endured a lot of chatter over the years: Someday, school is gonna be all online ...
鈥淵ou know, we could learn most of this from Google and YouTube ... 鈥�
鈥淭his is so lame; school is so pointless ... 鈥�
Maybe not. In fact, assuredly not. But sometimes it feels like we on the inside of education are the only ones who know it anymore. The only ones who remember it. Could it be that from this crisis emerges a happy little accidental epiphany? That a Chromebook is simply no substitute for a teacher? And a cluttered desk surrounded by laundry and candy wrappers (even if you do get to work in the comfort of your boxers and slippers) is simply no substitute for an active classroom teeming with friends, comrades, and even foes?
Look, I鈥檓 gonna do my best here. I promise. But if we as teachers manage to be as effective online as we are in the classroom, then we鈥檝e failed. We鈥檝e tragically, irreparably failed.
It鈥檚 day one, and I already miss my students. I miss them terribly.
