Same Old Different

Let’s wind the clocks back a year. It’s September, and the start of my first year as a preschool teacher. I’ve been training over the summer, and I’ve got a pretty good grasp on what comes with the job. I’ve done circle time, I’ve comforted crying kids, and yes, I’ve changed some stinky diapers. But I’m still very new. There’s a lot to learn about how the school year actually plays out and how in nine months I’m going to bring these kids from recruits to graduates. This is the big game. It’s showtime. The gates open, the bells ring, and off begins the 2019 school year. Am I well prepared? Well enough. Do I know what I’m doing? Yeah, a little. Can I handle the pressure? I don’t know, probably.

It takes a little riding the wave to get the hang of it. But with time, I feel comfortable. I learn the songs, I figure out the hidden tricks and secrets, I make it up as I go when I don’t know and just let it flow. After that, I get good at it. It’s not just being a teacher because you fell into it. You’re good at this. You command respect (sometimes, depends on the day/kid) and show each kid how much you’re dedicated to them every day. Even if you don’t love it every minute, you care. About doing the job right, about teaching important lessons as much as telling silly jokes, and above all, your kids. Do I know every step? No. Do I always get it right? Not a chance. Are there some moments where I’m so frustrated or tired I just want the day to be over with? Absolutely. But all in all, this is something you love. And it shows. You do the best you can, show the kids that you care, and occasionally, step into the dark and hope for the best.

Six months in, everything changes. The world changes. The lights go out and the great storm rolls in. It seems like it lasts forever, yet, at the same time, it seems like the blink of an eye. I go through many of the same things: trying to figure out how to manage this new aspect of my job, how to become comfortable with it, how to become good at it, how to show that I care, and how to love it. I didn’t manage to do all of those things because, well, how could I be comfortable? How could I love it? Once again, I found myself taking steps in the dark, hoping to do the best I could.

And then, almost as quickly as the power goes off and the lights go out, the lights flicker back on.

A Dim Light

Things look different when the lights come back on. It’s not pretty in the same way it was. In fact, it looks very, very different, and when you look at the surface, its’ only a small step above apocalyptic. You’ve been staying at home more or less for six months, so you haven’t had the gradual transition a lot of other people have. It’s nothing short of strange when you step out and seeing what the world has become. I could easily write about how sad or disheartening it is. I could ask how long until things get back to normal, or if they even can or should. But I’m not going to do that. For one, I’m sure I’ve written about that in other blog posts. And two, there’s not much use in it because, this is where things are.

But that doesn’t mean I should be grim about it. I still have hundreds of blessings. I have a home and family, a couple friends. Fresh air, health, food, water, my job. There’s a lot that doesn’t look or feel quite right but I have what matters most. And now, after a long and dreary six months of being home, I finally have the chance to be back at work with coworkers and kids I love. Can I be anything but thrilled? Well, yeah, totally. I’m worried things won’t look or feel right. I might fall under the pressure. I’m sad that some of the kids I had are graduating and I didn’t get to give them a proper goodbye. And most of all, I’m scared of my greatest fear coming true again: coming to love my class and losing them. I desperately don’t want to feel that again. Even as I write it, that fear pops into my head and eats away at me.

That said, there’s still something that overpowers the fear. Hope. Hope that, even beyond the masks I’ll be able to see my kids smile. Hope that I can make this scary world a little less scary for my kids. That I can step up and be the teacher they need me to be, and to step up as my co-teacher goes on maternity leave. Hope that this school year can be as special as any other. I’ll be the playground monster everyone runs from, the story reader everyone listens to, the artist and the doctor and the diaper-changer. I’ll be the teacher I was before and I’ll do it even better than before. No matter the circumstances, light is light. Whether a dim candle or a bright sun, light always shines through.

A New Kind of School Year

So now that school has started and we’re finally in the swing of things, what does it look like? Well, a little different here and there. There’s a lot of new things you have to consider when managing a classroom during a pandemic. You can’t use shared surfaces or toys. Every kid has their own crayons, their own busy box, their own play area. You have to clean just about everything. You have to try and make masks and distancing work when it’s the last thing on some kids’ minds. Musical chairs got replaced with musical dots, bubble space means something more than it used to, and I’ve probably washed my hands in the past month more than I have the entire school year last year (okay, that may not be true, but you get the idea). Point is, it’s not what I’m used to. It’s different. And honestly, it’s tiring. I used to handle days with seventeen kids. Now I’m tired after a couple hours with a measly six kids.

Is it bad though? No. Absolutely not. In fact, quite the opposite. I’m more than happy to be back. I’m glad to see many of my kids for a second year, and excited to welcome new faces to our class for the first time. I’m glad to read stories and be the playground monster and yes, even change some diapers. I’m thankful to be planning crafts and doing music time, I’m thankful to be with my coworkers and friends every day again. For spider crafts and apple fests and gingerbread dough. I’m thankful for the smiles I know are under the masks and the smiles they give me. I’m thankful for the chance to once again step up to the task of being a good preschool teacher and being the best I can be.

"It’s not about what it is, it’s about what it can become.” -Dr. Seuss

My life has purpose in it that it didn’t have for many months. For that, I’m incredibly thankful. These aren’t ideal circumstances, and there’s no ignoring that. I’d love for a year that felt just a little more normal. But if I can make the most of it, if I can make the world less scary for my kids and give them the best year I can, then that’s what really matters. It’s not always ideal and I don’t always know what to do. That’s how it always is though. In some ways, it’s just the same as it was before. I didn’t know what I was doing when I first became a teacher a year ago. But I did it. I was dedicated and I became good at it because I cared. And the same is true today. So, I can be thankful to be once again fulfilling a small purpose in my life, my fellow teachers’ lives, and in my kids’ lives.

Behind the mask, there’s a smile. Behind the pandemic, there’s dancing and laughing. Behind the fear or weirdness, there’s hope and joy. Behind the storm, there’s a light.