Thursday, September 17, 2020

What Are We Going to Do?



A couple days ago, I had a conversation with the father of a six-year-old, a first grader who is gamely trying to engage in online first grade for two hours a day. He told me she is struggling: restless and distracted. She is zoned out much of the time. When those two hours are over, she is irritable and exhausted, taking herself to bed for a long nap. He is in despair because her school has just let them know that starting this week online school will become "full time." He said, "I don't know what we're going to do."

A mother of one of my former preschool students says she is "in grief" about the school year. He is bored, frustrated, and moody. "He is in a vacuum, no classmates, teachers, movement, or human-being-ness to take in and give off." As a corrective, she's started trying to do her own work in the room with him, where he asks her questions, shows off, and generally reaches out to her for the human connection he needs. She's a single mother and a small business owner, who has to get her work done, so even as she can't blame him, she can't help but get annoyed at the constant distractions. This is the most loving, devoted mother I know. This is a bright, enthusiastic, kid who always loved school. 

She writes, "The teacher's speakered-sounding, too-loud voice is reading math problems while you are supposed to follow along, and she's moving on to the next one too fast, not noticing that you have your hand up. And then there are the kids who aren't muted when they're supposed to be. Or have lots of questions and don't raise their hand, just jump in and start asking her everything about else that's going on. And the teacher doesn't know who's doing the asking, so everyone goes down that path for a bit, then the teacher tries to haul everyone back on track, barreling on to #4 when you're still on #2 . . . It's zero wonder to me that (my son) either gets upset and breaks pencils or just tunes out and does his own thing. I'm almost proud of him for that. Damn strait, it's upsetting. And then I hear myself telling him to pay attention, raise his hand for the teacher, keep going, focus. This is school. Pretend I'm not here. What would you do if you were actually in a classroom? F**k you, Mom."

These are not isolated examples. I could fill up this blog day-after-day, with stories like these. I'm not blaming teachers and neither are the parents who've reached out to me. In fact, they are in awe of their patience and their unflagging efforts to make the most of a horrible situation. The argument is that there is a learning curve, that the teachers will "figure it out," that things will begin to go more smoothly, that the children will "adapt," all of which is certainly true, but it will remain a crappy, crappy thing we are doing to children and their families. As I listen to these stories, I'm convinced that this is not "better than nothing." 

We are damaging children right now and for what? So they won't fall behind? That's pure BS. "Behind" is a noxious concept based on some some data-monger's benchmarks. Is it really so important that we deliver this top-down, adult-directed curriculum according to an arbitrary schedule? It's BS in the best of times, and downright cruelty right now.

Are we doing it to help families? I don't know any family being "helped" by this. In fact, judging from the stories I'm hearing, we are laying extra stress and strain on families during what is already a time of extra stress and strain.

Are we doing it to keep teachers employed? Is it simply an effort to create "structure" for the kids? 

None of the reasons hold water. The minimal amount of good being done is far outweighed by the harm. I don't need any more evidence: we need to stop doing this to young children (probably all children) right now.

Children and families do not need curriculum forced upon them. They need help coping during these incredibly trying times. This is where our focus needs to be. We need to spend more time listening, we need to unmute the children, we need to unmute their parents. Let's take this opportunity, and use this technology, to talk about feelings, to create human connection, and to play with one another. Do we really need to recreate the classroom with 20+ kids and one teacher, a problematic scenario under the best of times? Would it really be so bad if we allowed children to congregate in small online groups where they are free to goof around with one another? Would it really be so bad if we allowed children to wear what they wanted to wear, to use the toilet when they wanted to use the toilet, to talk when they wanted to talk, to laugh, to cry, to show off, and to play? Would it really be so awful if we allowed the children to take the lead in their own learning?

This sort of communications technology (e.g., Zoom) will never be able to replace face-to-face, but it can provide windows through which we can reach out to one another as humans during this pandemic. This is what children need right now. This is what we all need. And maybe when we can finally return to "normal," we won't want to.

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I'm excited to announce that Teacher Tom's Second Book is now available in Australia and New Zealand as well as the US, Canada, the UK, Iceland, and Europe. And if you missed it, Teacher Tom's First Book is back in print as well. 

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