Education Appreciation — Cape Super Moms

Distance learning. It’s (one of) the buzz words of 2020. This pandemic has brought a lot of firsts into our lives, but the nationwide remote learning is definitely top of the list for doing things in a way we never imagined we would.

In the beginning, we said, a few weeks? Sure. We can do a few weeks. Then it turned to months, and then they canceled school and if you listen very closely, you can hear the collective sigh and cry from students, teachers, parents, administrators, aides, lunch workers, playground monitors...so many souls with broken hearts about how we have to do school these days.

For the most part, there has been a hardy, “We’re in this together!” And, “It’s only temporary!” Which is needed and appreciated, but there are so many struggling and worrying about ‘falling behind’ and not getting services, attention, social contact, and a hundred other intangible things that you can’t measure on a multiple choice worksheet.

I have 4 kids doing the remote learning gig. I have three 4th graders in main stream school and a 7 year old in a specialized classroom. Between the hours of 9 and 11:30, there are disembodied voices coming from all different rooms in my house giving instructions about fractions or telling an excited student how cute their new kitten is they got from the shelter over the weekend.

This week (month?) has been Teacher Appreciation. I appreciate teachers. A lot. But under the current situation, can I extend this umbrella of appreciation? I want to dedicate my words today to all those who fall under the category of learning and education. I just want to say, I see you.

To the parents.

To the parents who are working from one room, while their kid is in the other, and the dog needs to go out and now the kid’s battery is low but the charger is missing and you have to turn off your camera on your Zoom meeting because your kid is now whining and complaining that their device died and you don’t want your colleagues to know you left the super important meeting to find the charger you asked your kid to find this morning before you started work, but here you are. I see you. I appreciate you.

To the parents who now have to remember how to do 3rd grade math and algebra or learn for the first time how to do 3rd grade math and algebra. (WHY IS IT SO DIFFERENT THAN 30 YEARS AGO?) I see you. I appreciate myself, I mean, I appreciate you.

To the teachers.

To the teachers who have spent their entire career looking their students in the eyes every morning and welcoming them to class, who now have to figure out how to use a technology platform they’ve never used. To the teachers who are now learning from their own students how to download a background or set up a Google chat. I see you. I appreciate you.

To the teachers who are more worried about the emotional well being of their students during this shut down than they are about the curriculum they have to adapt. But they are being asked to keep their focus on the curriculum. I see you. I appreciate you.

To the teachers whose voices and faces are in my home Monday through Friday with your efforts and love and care about how my child is doing and if they are keeping up and if they need extra help and how their weekend was and telling them that they miss them. I see you. I appreciate you. I appreciate you so much.

To the educators who understand that parents are home, but are also working and stressed and maybe having a hard time paying bills or have loved ones who are sick. I see you and I appreciate your grace and compassion through this process and for those families.

To the specialists in PE and music and art and all those other subjects that over the years, have gotten less and less time, but seem more important than ever, I see you. To those specialists who had 45 minutes a week during regular face to face school now have 15 minutes a week over a computer screen. I see you. I appreciate you.

Can’t wait until the (elementary) band is back together.

To the special education teachers. I’m taking a deep breath. I’m collecting my emotions. I’m trying to think of where to start. There are a hundred things I want to say to you, but am having a hard time finding the words. But maybe you already know. Because that’s why you are in special education. You have students in your classroom all the time that have a hard time finding the way they want to communicate and decipher their world. You help extract the words and emotions out of these kiddos that may not have the same skills as their typical peers.

So maybe you already know why I don’t have enough words of appreciation for the learning plan you are assembling each week with a lot of care and effort, while also knowing how much your students need to be in front of you, in your classroom, getting your attention and love. How much you understand that an Individual Learning Plan isn’t just a legal document, but for some kids, it’s their only chance at getting services, and now they are all home, getting bits of their IEP and definitely missing some things altogether.

I see you. I appreciate you. More than I can express in a post on the internet.

To the students.

To the class of 2020, I know you are mourning your last year of school and all the ditching, year book signing, pranks at graduation and general shenanigans you’re missing out on. I see you. I hope you find a way to still raise a little senior hell before 2020 is over.

To the students who live in my house.

To my 4th graders. You have handled this unexpected interruption to your school year with flexibility and an open mind. You haven’t seen your friends in over two months. You’ve managed to get through assignments and lessons with your little brother over your shoulder or the dog barking or mom and dad being loud on their own calls. You’ve seem to take in the novelty and rarity of this moment in time and have complained way less than your grumpy, less flexible momma. I’m learning from you. I see you Gabe, Sunny and Christian. I appreciate you.

To my Spencer. I know it’s hard to see so many friendly and familiar faces on a screen instead of in person. I know you miss your dad driving you to school and waving hi to all your friends as you walk around your school. I know you miss doing the weather song without mom hovering over your shoulder. I know you miss morning meeting in your seat next to your teacher and your visits with all your friends who help you with so many important school and life skills.

But I am proud of your ability to adapt and face this challenge. I’m proud of how you still participate in your Zoom meeting with your class, even when you’re grumpy. I see you mumbling the answer of “what’s the weather” under your breath. I see you singing along to the ABC song ever so quietly every morning. No one wants our school schedule back to normal more than you do. I love you buddy. I see you. I appreciate you.

There are so many people I can mention here. So let me end by saying to all those who are adapting and being flexible, to those facing their unique school challenges with humor and creativity, to those who keep smiling, but also allow themselves to fall apart, I see you.

I appreciate you.