As I merged onto Washington Blvd, driving the half mile or so to my exit for Second Street yesterday morning, I found myself singing along to the music. It felt like old times. The sun was shining, I had my second cup of coffee in my travel mug, and I was going to my actual classroom.
I was eager to sort out the technology, organize books, and do some planning. Most of all, I looked forward to chatting with real-live people, face to face (at a safe, masked distance, of course).
I am past crying when I enter my classroom, as I did the few times I ducked back in last year to pick up books and whatnot. The paper chains proudly displaying books students had finished, books stuffed with laminated “Stop-Think-Jot” bookmarks, reader’s notebooks abandoned in their bins, the anchor chart from March 13, 2020’s lesson – all of these had me pretty much sobbing last year. Those feelings of sadness and loss have been replaced by excitement, anticipation, and a dash of anxiety.
After I had the tech ready to go (I think), Tuesday’s lesson planned, and books organized, I…stayed a bit longer. I had two blank bulletin boards in need of some bright paper and borders. “This is dumb,” I told myself, “Just go home; it’s almost 3:00 on a Friday.” I couldn’t resist. I just feels so delightfully normal to size and cut paper, staple it to a board, and then edge it with whatever border I still had left in my cabinet.
Once I was satisfied with the minor make-over, I picked up my bag, switched off the air purifier, and donned my mask – just like…new times?
My Corner of the Village 