Day Twenty One. I can’t see their faces. This is not a melancholy, melodramatic musing of my missing my kids. This is business. When one puts all his eggs in the basket of teacher responsiveness, he’s left reeling when he can’t see their responses–to his “good morning,” to his instruction, to his feedback, to his empathy, to his humor, to his humanity, to his mistakes, to his “have a good day,” to his everything. Reading kids and responding to kids is teaching. I read them–every expression a lesson–from the time they enter to the time they leave. I need that.

Yesterday, as I was making our distance-learning assignment, I was struck by the realization at how much I initially consider (I imagine their responses as I plan) and subsequently require feedback from my kids for planning, delivering, and bettering our work. More, I was struck by how much of that presents itself through the non-verbal–primarily their facial expressions. I need to see their faces. And I am not talking about quick fixes found in platforms like Zoom and others. I am talking about in-the-classroom, in-person contact. And I know. I know we can’t have that right now. And more, it is not to criticize the earnest efforts being made by all to make do as best we can in these unprecedented times. This is not easy. But it’s also not effective. Well, let’s change that to, “there are limits to the effectiveness” of any distance model we may create, for it falls considerably short of contact. Considerably.

That said, we will make do. But as we move through this and eventually come out of this and try to plan for the future, I hope we don’t lose sight of the fragile faces in our baskets. Or, we may end up with egg on our face.

Happy Monday, all. Stay safe and sane.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.