I Wished for This...

Remember.

I wished for this.

The other day as I practically begged and pleaded with my class to use their voices and not just stare at me from behind masks with robotic glares -- doing everything short of throwing myself on the floor in an overly dramatic show of frustration -- one of my junior boys (who I was lucky enough to also have last year as a sophomore) said, “Remember last year when you used to wish for us to be quiet. You should be happy.” Last year’s 10th graders were a boisterous mix of immaturity and reckless abandon. Everyday felt like the room had caffeine pumping through the air filtration system. Kids would bounce in their chairs. Little paper “darts” would get thrown into the ceiling. A class discussion would always end up at some completely unrelated destination. That class would leave each day, and I would feel physical exhaustion. They ALWAYS got their work done though, and they were always sweet and polite -- Just. So. Very. Exhausting.

So, I thought about “N’s” comment for a moment and reassured him (and the rest of the class) that even on their craziest day last year, I would ALWAYS rather have THAT than this numbing silence (Cue: “Bueller? Bueller?” as a reference). I told them I WISHED they were bouncing out of their chairs and causing me to raise my voice one billion decibels to reel them back in. Then “N” says, “Well, maybe you should write a note to yourself and put it somewhere that says you wished for this. That way if you get a crazy class like that again you can remember how much you actually like it better.”

And there birthed the “I wished for this” sticky note that is currency displayed on my bulletin board directly above my computer screen. Last year, I wished for quiet -- and I got almost half of a nearly silent school year from my dining room table. Then, I wished for being back in person at school. I got that -- despite the hybrid schedule and cleaning of desks and confusion, at least I was able to physically see kids every day. Then I wished that we could have more students in person, and slowly more and more kids started returning to school.

And now, with eight weeks left of the school year, as another stressful change of plans is thrown at us, I need to remind myself that I wished

for this. I wished for a return to normal life. I wished for the ability to see my students every, single day. I wished for a regular school year. I am frustrated and burnt out and exhausted, BUT I need to remind myself that it has been WORSE than it is at this moment. Our brains have the funniest way of so-soon forgetting where we JUST were -- and less than a year ago we were all locked in our homes, only speaking to our students through unanswered Google classroom posts.

In truth, I have hated this school year with all of my being. All of the parts of teaching I love the most and nearly impossible to accomplish in this setting -- altho

ugh, I have not stopped trying to replicate them. I have tried to be as positive as I can be, and I will continue to do just that, but successfully teaching (in a meaningful way) in this situation (in my humble opinion) is nearly impossible. I could write an entirely separate post JUST about all of the ways this year has sucked my love of this job right out of me. Most day, it isn’t even teaching -- it is just a disastrous mix between being a professional google slides presenter and simple survival. Navigating this school year has been like walking on a tightrope in torrential rain with no safety net to catch us. The balancing act required on a daily basis has created a level of exhausting I did not really know was possible.

Teachers are tired.

Kids are over it. People are ready to just call it quits.

BUT, we wished for this. We have to remember that at one point we would have all given ANYTHING for even just THIS little bit of normalcy.

Something is better than nothing. Okay is better than awful. Quiet classrooms are better than dining room classrooms.

We are almost at the finish line, and I think reminding ourselves that this is all at least better than it was is all we can do. And some day down the line, when I am completely frazzled because my class is talking over me, or dancing around the desks, or going on weird, immature tangents in our discussions -- I will need to remember that I am wishing so hard for that right now.

I would give anything for a weird tangent. Right now. And I will remember that I wished for that.