Pissed

The school where I teach was closed for most of the week.  Well, that’s not entirely true.  The school was closed to students for most of the week.  

The health team identified a case of possible in-school transmission of COVID, so they shut down for three days.  Students switched to a remote learning model.  But teachers needed to be in the building.  I taught my classes, sitting at my desk, wearing my mask and my coat.  And I’m kinda pissed.  

I’m not pissed at my principal or my superintendent.  I’m not pissed at my union reps or the school administration.  I’m pissed about the plethora of OPINIONS out there that impact MY ability to do my job.  

When the teachers asked why we needed to be in the building (we already teach from home one day a week), the answer was, “The taxpayers like to see your cars in the parking lot.”  No joke.  

So when our custodians SHOULD be deep-cleaning an empty building, instead, they have to deal with all the doorknobs and handles we’ve touched.  They have to disinfect in the evenings after we leave.  They have to re-wash everything they’ve already washed. 

Three teachers work in my classroom.  We need to remain masked all day.  We’re each hosting different zoom classes, so we don our headphones and shout over each other, literally tethered to our computers. The masks make it even harder to communicate with our students over glitchy connections and mediocre technology. 

If we have a five minute break, there is nowhere to go.  We don’t visit or talk with each other.  Everyone has a sign on their door, stating “Zoom Class in progress.  Please do not disturb.”  The teacher’s room is sad and lonely.  Nobody sits there anymore.  There are three labeled, socially distant spots to sit in case you don’t want to eat in your classroom.  They are almost never in use.  

To help with ventilation, we’ve been told to keep our windows open at all times.  This is not a suggestion.  It’s an expectation.  Regardless of winter temperatures, the windows stay open.  On really cold days, we wear our coats.  One of my partner teachers brings a blanket to work when the kids aren’t there.  We dress in layers and wish we could at least move around… but we are stuck in front of these computers, trying our best to communicate through the noise and the masks and the cold.  

When I teach from home, I have a great little set up.  I have a document camera that allows me to take notes or explain concepts in real time.  I have a desk in the corner of my bedroom with a white board and a stack of middle grade novels and resources.  I can light a candle and sip my coffee and teach without shouting over other people in the room.  When I have a five-minute break, I can chat with my kids or switch a load of laundry or pet my dog.  My workspace is warm and I can smile and laugh with my students, unhindered by a mask over my face.  

I know that’s not the case for all teachers.  Some much prefer to be in the classroom while they teach.  They should have that option.  But requiring teachers to physically be in the building when students are not?  That’s demeaning and punitive. 

We are educated professionals.  Educated professionals all over the country are working from home.  Working from home doesn’t make any employee less accountable.  If you don’t do your job, there should still be consequences.  Systems for evaluation should still be in place.  Actual, effective supervision is still possible.  

So when you drive by a school with no students and a full parking lot?  That’s not proof that teachers are hard at work.  It’s proof that a lot of unfounded, uneducated opinions won out over the voices of the teachers in the trenches.  It’s proof that educators are being treated like children. It’s proof that a visible car in the parking lot is more important than the health and well-being and safety of the teachers who care for and educate your children.

And maybe you should be pissed, too.