Day #155 Writing Through COVID-19: On Math and Medals

Today was my lovely last day of summer. 
I ran three miles.
I enjoyed morning coffee with two friends on a socially-distanced patio.
I got my hair cut (first time since March) and heard a first-person account from a woman who was down with COVID for 12 miserable days.

I practiced the accordion with my mother-in-law.
I played Bridge via Zoom with my dad. 
I sat in the sun.
I wrote a poem.

"How we spend our days is how we spend our lives." --Annie Dillard
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Today was also my Denver daughter Palmer's first day with students in her new school. Although she teaches math and I teach English, we share a teaching style she calls "hummingbird." We dart and hover, logging thousands of steps each day within the 400 sq. feet of our classrooms.

"I try to be a positive person," she prefaced the report on her first day. But her students mumbled behind their masks. "Teachers are listeners. We listen to kids. I couldn't hear them, and I could only see half of their faces." Furthermore, she couldn't dash over and fix a computer glitch, or move in to make a private comment. She said she felt as if everything that makes her a good teacher has been hobbled.

I reminded her that the first trips to Hy-Vee during COVID were exhausting, as every movement demanded full concentration. If school manages to stay in session, our new distanced teaching styles will eventually feel more natural.
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After unloading her worries, Palmer began talking about her new students. Her voice lightened as she laughed about the first-day eagerness we see each fall. She had shown her students the trailer to "Hidden Figures" and shared the cornerstones of her classroom philosophy: Grit. Loving-kindness. Honesty. 

She invited her students to explain how one of these priorities resonated with them, and then to choose a song that would illustrate this.

"Sounds like you wish you taught English," I said.

"Oh yes!" she laughed, "But we also reviewed mathematical symbols!"
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As Palmer relayed all the things that had gone WELL in her room today, she said, "I really have the best job."

True.

I wish it was safe.
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Texting with fellow teachers tonight. We've been told there will be plenty of space to socially distance in the auditorium for the Welcome Back at 8 a.m. tomorrow.

Originally this event was scheduled for all 300 district employees, but then voices rose in chorus to say NOT A GOOD IDEA. Subsequently, the Board asked the administration to rethink this arrangement and allow teachers to attend via zoom from their own buildings.

I will attend, alone in my classroom.

My (almost as old as me) math-teaching friend down the hall said she'd be doing the same.
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Smiling like a hero.

A few years ago our principal's theme for the year was something related to winning. She gave us each a medal on our first day back. Somehow my math-teaching friend and I made a competition out of who could wear their medal the longest.

With a few cheats (borrowing other teachers' medals, stuffed in their desk drawers), we both wore the medals for the entire year!

Tonight we decided we need to bring them back.

If there ever was a year that deserved a medal, this is it.

Enough.
Be well.
Write.
Or do some math.

Allison