![]() ![]() So it’s with these questions in mind-and with the still sinking recognition that we’re going to have to save ourselves-I spent some time coming up with some structures for an 85-minute block for the ELA classroom. Moving to a longer period, online, and with alternating day schedule will be a challenge: How much can I do in that amount of time? How should it be organized? How much synchronous and asynchronous instruction will that allow? What about screen fatigue? I know when to move from the front of the room to the back, where to stop to talk with students formally and informally, how to make space for whole-class and small group discussion. With 19 years of teaching, I know the beats and rhythm of a 43-minute period. ![]() Last year: 8 period day, 43-min/period, IN-PERSON This year: 4 period day, 85-min/period, ONLINE In my case, that means going from eight 43-minute periods, in-person, daily, to four 85-minute periods, online, every other day. And like other districts, our school is starting the year 100% online. Like other districts, my school adopted an alternating-day, “block” schedule. One thing, any thingīut with school only a few short weeks away, I knew I needed to do something- one thing, any thing-that might help me catch my footing. But it was hard: there were a lot of things I couldn’t figure out, couldn’t reconcile what I knew based on almost 20 years of experience and what teachers were being asked to do. Because at the time, I’d still been holding on to the slim hope that somehow, somehow we could still turn this horrible situation around, that schools and districts would err on the side of caution and act to put the fewest lives at risk.Īnd because teachers are problem-solvers, I tried to figure out how to make things work. I let out the deep breath that I didn’t even realize that I’d been holding in. I stopped when I first read Val’s words-and then I exhaled. “No one is coming to save us-in fact, it feels like the exact opposite-so we are going to have to save ourselves.” ![]() We are going to have to save ourselves.Ī few weeks ago, as reopening plans started to roll out, educator Val Brown shared this simple and clear truth in a Twitter thread: Compounding all of this is the fact that delayed reopening decisions have left many teachers with inadequate time to fully prepare. Based on conversations I’ve had with teachers across the country, these schedules may also not be in the best interest of kids or supported by research. And for many of us, this also means figuring out how to teach in entirely new or modified schedules. Like many teachers, I spent this summer, losing sleep, trying to answer this question. How can schools enforce physical distancing? Will students be required to mask? Can they wear masks for hours on end? What about ventilation systems? What happens if someone gets sick?Īnd how can I teach under these conditions? Instead, much of my summer has been spent in constant, alternating states of fear, anger, and anxiety, as many school reopening plans ask teachers to put themselves at risk by returning to potentially unsafe buildings and working conditions. To refill my cup so that I can arrive well and whole for my students in September.īut during a pandemic that continues to rage-and with racial inequities (which have always existed) laid glaringly bare yet again-this was not that kind of summer. This school year will be my 20th year in the classroom.įor the past 19 years, summer months have provided necessary respite-the quiet pause-I’ve needed to refuel for the coming school year. ![]()
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