Dear World

I am teacher without a classroom. 

It all happened so suddenly.  I took a nap one Thursday and woke up to find out our spring break had been extended by two weeks.  Fast forward a few days, and the governor closed school buildings for the rest of the school year. 

There are a lot of unknowns right now.  Everyone—kids, parents, and teachers—would feel more comfortable with a definitive plan.  But we are in uncharted territory.  Teachers everywhere have been given very little information.  We don’t wait for people to tell us what to do.  We find solutions for our kids because our kids are what matter most.

Today, I went to my classroom to pack up my kids’ supplies.  Every marker box, keychain, feeling bucket, piece of art work, stuffed animal, first day of kindergarten pictures, and random collections they had started in their cubbies.  It all went into plastic bags for pick up this weekend. 

My classroom is my happy place.  It’s where my kids and I laugh, create, learn, and explore.  Today as I was packing up the things that mean so much to my littles, I cried.  We all left for spring break not knowing we wouldn’t get to come back to our happy place together.

I’m working very hard to find ways to stay connected to my kids.  To find ways to make learning meaningful from home.  To find ways to teach without a classroom.  I’m confident I will find a way.

But tonight, I need to grieve.  I wasn’t done.  We weren’t done.  I lost a lot of time with my kids.  A lot of memories we were supposed to make.  A lot of moments that took us by surprise.  A lot of smiles that told me everything.  I lost a lot.  It hurts in ways most people can’t understand.

We are living in a crazy time.  As you wait for guidance from your children’s teachers, I ask that you give us a little time.  We are fighting to “make everything better” while our hearts are breaking. 


A teacher without a classroom

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