I never anticipated it would end like this. Spring in an elementary school represents a fresh start, a season where learning flourishes. The students have settled into their routines, and the lessons you’ve been emphasizing for months are now second nature. Standing in line, raising hands, actively listening, and resolving conflicts through conversation—it’s all happening! This newfound independence is a beautiful thing.
Yes, your group can work in the hallway. Yes, you can borrow an iPad to film your project. Yes, the three of you can carry measuring tapes around the school to tackle your math problem. Yes, we can absolutely create our own Choose Your Own Adventure story together. Yes, we can linger outside a little longer, enjoying the sun, the birds, and the puddles.
However, I never thought I would be facing an ending right when everything was blooming. A farewell without a proper goodbye. Today, I was granted a mere 15 minutes in my classroom, just enough time to gather what I could from the 2019-2020 school year into my cherished secondhand suitcase. This suitcase has accompanied me through countless adventures, holding memories within its worn frame and frayed edges. It now carries the weight of this unprecedented historical moment. While there are new beginnings and online learning adventures on the horizon, there’s also a profound sadness for all that remains unfulfilled.
I packed away binders, math resources, a wipe-off chart, markers, a stapler, and a hole punch. I’m unsure if I’ll ever need these items again, but I can’t shake the notion that they define my role as a teacher. As I moved from desk to desk, collecting the children’s well-loved folders, I felt a lump in my throat. Some desks still held little stuffed animals peeking out, headphones hanging, shiny new shoes, and calculators with their buttons colored in with a black Sharpie. There’s even a compass that only serves to poke holes in erasers.
Regrettably, we likely won’t get to enjoy our special birthday handshakes this year. The sugar and water experiment we started back in January now sits abandoned on the windowsill. Our latest read-aloud novel will remain untouched. The bookmarks in their chapter books, which they were so eager to dive into, will stay frozen in their current pages. The “how-was-your-weekend” sharing circle every Monday morning, where we listened, laughed, and bonded, has come to an abrupt halt. We didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye.
Yet, we are safe at home. I’ll still connect with my students online. I’m grateful that in 2020, we have access to so much technology, allowing us to navigate this crisis together. I delight in creating and sharing humorous videos with my colleagues, aimed at eliciting laughter that I won’t get to hear directly. Teaching online is a challenge, but it’s also inspiring me to adapt. Together, we’ll forge a new path for learning during this extraordinary time. It might not be perfect, but it’s the best we can manage.
To my dear students, we will meet again one day in the world outside. Until then, stay safe, stay well, and I’ll see you online. If you’re interested in exploring more about this topic, check out this other blog post. Additionally, for those looking for expert insights, this resource is invaluable, as is this excellent information on IVF.
In summary, the vibrant spring season in the classroom brings both joy and sorrow as we navigate an unexpected ending. While we can’t share our usual experiences and farewells, we hold onto the hope for future connections and learning opportunities.