Monday night, I triple-checked my alarms . . . all six of them.
I couldn’t take a chance on being late.
I didn’t let the rain dampen my spirits either.
You see, for the first time in thirty-nine days, the student body at my school, including staff members, would be reunited. We had been asked to wear red as a show of solidarity. It’s one of our school’s main colors.
We had weathered one of the most horrible hurricanes to hit the United States, and we were eager to reestablish some sort of routine.
I had left the school the previous Friday thinking I was ready.
Ha!
I don’t know that a person can ever really be prepared given the circumstances.
I wondered how many of my students would actually be at school. I had heard that a lot of kids had left. I was also concerned about the gamut of emotions that I was sure to face. Although my school district had provided crisis training, I wasn’t sure what to expect.
I grew nervous as I walked down the hallway to pick up last-minute handouts.
I watched as teachers dropped their children off at the daycare on campus. The district is providing childcare because most of the daycare centers in town are destroyed, and teachers can’t work if they don’t have people to watch their children. Our daycare happens to be across the hall from my classroom.
We gathered in the small, middle school cafeteria since we weren’t able to return to our own school. Our principal gave a great pep talk.
The mayor of the city even spoke. A student prayed for us, and wow, can I just say how amazing it was?
Then, we went outside where the teachers held up signs with our names so our first period classes could find us. It felt like we were elementary teachers, but it wasn’t a bad thing. It was a conglomeration of pure joy.
The reunions were so sweet, and although I’d expected to spend the morning crying, I found that I didn’t. I was so focused on giving the kids hugs and hollering out to students I’d taught in previous years that I didn’t have time to cry.
When we entered my room, the kids were greeted with this message . . .
They groaned as they realized that I’d retrieved my cell phone pocket holder from my regular classroom, but everyone put their phones away. I assured them that they would have been very disappointed if I hadn’t.
Ha!
The day flew by. It was extremely overwhelming. Because classes had been shortened to thirty-nine minutes (four-minute class changes), there wasn’t time to catch my breath. It turned out that although the kids and I shared a bit about our experiences with the hurricane, we always came around to the positives of it. I was astounded at my students’ resiliency. I attribute that to your prayers and God’s grace. ❤
During sixth period, we had a special delivery. My sister, mother-in-law, and another friend had sent items they’d donated via my friend’s son. I took my class on a “field trip” to the bus loop where he had parked to retrieve the bags and boxes.
Getting outside was good because my classroom is one of four that doesn’t have a working air conditioner unit. It was very, very hot and humid on Tuesday. In fact, it was cooler outside than inside my room, so we enjoyed the fresh air while we retrieved the items.
Lunch was a bit of a cluster. The plan had been to have our JROTC deliver sack lunches so the kids could make their way to the buses or cars without encountering the middle school students, but we were told last-minute to have them go to the cafeteria to pick up their sacks. Every student in my district is getting two free meals right now. It was a mess, and things didn’t go as smoothly as hoped.
I finally got to breathe at noon after the kids were gone.
Well, not really because I had to empty the garbage and sweep the room – all before the next teacher got to the room to begin his day.
We are having to do things old school around here because the cleaning crew assigned to our campus has been moved to another school.
The faculty gathered in the choir room around 12:15 for a debrief.
It was a good call because we had a chance to discuss what had worked and what hadn’t. We wrote down questions and tried to come up with solutions. Overall, we loved on each other.
The above and below pictures are post-Back-to-School-2.0 day.
The week flew by. Every afternoon, staff members gathered in the media center. We ate lunch together, laughed, and commiserated about some of the challenges we are facing.
Imagine living in your house for the first half of the day and then having an entire family move in for the second part of it.
That’s what it’s like for us.
Everyone changes: Administration, Guidance, Attendance, teachers, paraprofessionals, and the custodians.
Guidance counselors are working in teeny, tiny offices; the Attendance ladies are sharing one desk while manning two phones; the principal’s administrative assistant is holding down the fort in an office that you need to drop breadcrumbs to so you can find your way out.
Teachers are operating with as few things as possible to minimize the footprints we are leaving in other teachers’ classrooms. Some teachers are conducting their classes simultaneously in the library because they still haven’t gotten portables. Can I just say that they are doing an INCREDIBLE job too? I walked in two or three times during my planning, and the kids were working quietly. It has been impressive.
So, it’s now Friday night, and although I am exhausted, I can’t help but be proud.
I work with some of the most dedicated educators around. I haven’t seen a teacher who hasn’t gone the extra mile to make sure that his or her students have what they need.
There’s nothing old-school about the way we are loving on our children, providing a safe and enriching environment for them, and lending a helping hand to one another.
Filed under: Teaching | Tagged: Hurricane Michael, teaching | 1 Comment »
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