One of the beliefs of the writing project is that teachers who write are better teachers of writing. To that end, the Saginaw Bay Writing Project supports opportunities for teachers to craft and share their writing. Here you will find a collection of writing by our area teachers, currently focused their personal experiences teaching during the pandemic.
"Still Together"
By: Mark Brenner
For months, my wife was tracking the Coronavirus like a storm. And then it expectedly hit Michigan in March. So, I said goodbye to my students for what I thought would be two to three weeks while things got under control. My staff had a three-hour meeting discussing our plans. On Monday, we implemented them. I, thankfully, had already started using Google throughout the school year, so the students and I had a foundation. I spent the weekend preparing their online learning and then delivered lessons the following week.
The first week or two of online-learning taught me a lot. If something was unclear, I was bombarded by a slew of comments, emails, or phone calls. So, I tried to be precise. I broke concepts into small chunks and then created instructional videos, cringing when I watched myself. I had Zoom meetings where half a class would show up, or they'd turn the screen black, or some almost looked like they were looking at something else besides the computer (Nah! Couldn't be).
When two weeks became the rest of the school year, I found solace in my sweatpants and homemade baked goods and much-needed daily walks outside, but I knew if I missed being together, they did too. So, besides Zoom meetings, I made Flipgrid assignments to inspire our classroom community. I did a March Madness Contest on it that garnered some enthusiasm from some, including a basketball player until he realized it was about poetry. But behind the monitors' glare, I was losing some of my students; they were disappearing, going through the motions. And I was worried for them.
At my private elementary school, the district decided to start our 2020/2021 at the end of August like usual. I wondered if it was the correct decision and how long we could make it. Honestly, I was expecting more online learning when we started, hoping for a month or two of in-person teaching. Teaching during this pandemic was at times like a Salvador Dali painting, surreal. But we endured the masks, the spreading out, and extra cleaning. Here and there, some kids had to miss because of contact tracing, but we were in-person primarily. And I am thankful that everyone stayed healthy. Things were different, but things were the same too. Despite the storm, we were still learning and growing and together.
The first week or two of online-learning taught me a lot. If something was unclear, I was bombarded by a slew of comments, emails, or phone calls. So, I tried to be precise. I broke concepts into small chunks and then created instructional videos, cringing when I watched myself. I had Zoom meetings where half a class would show up, or they'd turn the screen black, or some almost looked like they were looking at something else besides the computer (Nah! Couldn't be).
When two weeks became the rest of the school year, I found solace in my sweatpants and homemade baked goods and much-needed daily walks outside, but I knew if I missed being together, they did too. So, besides Zoom meetings, I made Flipgrid assignments to inspire our classroom community. I did a March Madness Contest on it that garnered some enthusiasm from some, including a basketball player until he realized it was about poetry. But behind the monitors' glare, I was losing some of my students; they were disappearing, going through the motions. And I was worried for them.
At my private elementary school, the district decided to start our 2020/2021 at the end of August like usual. I wondered if it was the correct decision and how long we could make it. Honestly, I was expecting more online learning when we started, hoping for a month or two of in-person teaching. Teaching during this pandemic was at times like a Salvador Dali painting, surreal. But we endured the masks, the spreading out, and extra cleaning. Here and there, some kids had to miss because of contact tracing, but we were in-person primarily. And I am thankful that everyone stayed healthy. Things were different, but things were the same too. Despite the storm, we were still learning and growing and together.
"Faith Over Fear"
By: Lindsey Russell
What did I learn about myself as a teacher over the past year? First, I clearly understood just how fragile our everyday lives are - students, teachers, and administrators alike. Most people seem to have underestimated the power of their daily routine, their “normal.” I certainly did. Second, I learned just how much I continue to not know. I am still learning how to teach effectively online. Finally, I learned how to focus on what truly matters.
As 2019-2020 was my first full-year teaching, I continue to feel robbed. Plans for March is Reading Month, field trips, and so much more - all gone. Memories with my first 6th grade class never made. The little things still haunt me. I am a big believer in class read-alouds, and when we shutdown for the school year in March 2020, I was in the middle of the first Percy Jackson book: Percy Jack and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan. My 6th graders adored the book, and I still regret the fact that I was unable to finish the book with them in-person - or continue the series.
If I still feel this way a year later, I can only imagine how my middle school students felt and continue to feel. There appears to be little to no concern regarding the impact prolonged shutdowns can have on emotional, social, and academic well-being. It just doesn’t seem to matter to anyone. Somewhere along the way, we lost our humanity. We, educators and students alike, are not alright.
As we entered the Lenten season this year, memories of last year came flooding back. On Friday, March 13th, 2020, as I participated in the Stations of the Cross with my students, we learned that we would not be coming back to school. Little did we know that we would not finish the year. The uncertainty, the miscommunication, and the worry will always stay with me. At the time, no one had any answers, only an endless list of questions.
During the lockdown, I worried about every single one of my students. Would they fall behind? How would they survive without seeing friends on a daily basis – or ever? I also learned what I didn’t know. No one taught me how to teach online. Yet, that is exactly what I did. I was not prepared last spring. When my class was quarantined this fall, I was still not fully prepared. Only now, in a virtual week built in after spring break, am I now beginning to feel as though I can somehow teach online. It took over a year.
I can’t imagine trying to navigate it all without faith. When I talk about faith, yes, I am referencing a higher power, but I am also referring to a general faith that everything will work out in the end. No matter where we are today as educators and students, there is hope for tomorrow. All hope is not lost. We can and should do better. We will. If given the choice between faith and fear, I choose faith.
As 2019-2020 was my first full-year teaching, I continue to feel robbed. Plans for March is Reading Month, field trips, and so much more - all gone. Memories with my first 6th grade class never made. The little things still haunt me. I am a big believer in class read-alouds, and when we shutdown for the school year in March 2020, I was in the middle of the first Percy Jackson book: Percy Jack and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan. My 6th graders adored the book, and I still regret the fact that I was unable to finish the book with them in-person - or continue the series.
If I still feel this way a year later, I can only imagine how my middle school students felt and continue to feel. There appears to be little to no concern regarding the impact prolonged shutdowns can have on emotional, social, and academic well-being. It just doesn’t seem to matter to anyone. Somewhere along the way, we lost our humanity. We, educators and students alike, are not alright.
As we entered the Lenten season this year, memories of last year came flooding back. On Friday, March 13th, 2020, as I participated in the Stations of the Cross with my students, we learned that we would not be coming back to school. Little did we know that we would not finish the year. The uncertainty, the miscommunication, and the worry will always stay with me. At the time, no one had any answers, only an endless list of questions.
During the lockdown, I worried about every single one of my students. Would they fall behind? How would they survive without seeing friends on a daily basis – or ever? I also learned what I didn’t know. No one taught me how to teach online. Yet, that is exactly what I did. I was not prepared last spring. When my class was quarantined this fall, I was still not fully prepared. Only now, in a virtual week built in after spring break, am I now beginning to feel as though I can somehow teach online. It took over a year.
I can’t imagine trying to navigate it all without faith. When I talk about faith, yes, I am referencing a higher power, but I am also referring to a general faith that everything will work out in the end. No matter where we are today as educators and students, there is hope for tomorrow. All hope is not lost. We can and should do better. We will. If given the choice between faith and fear, I choose faith.