slice of life: at this time

It’s quiet inside my house.  I hear the wind blowing through pines on the hillside. Distant chimes then stillness. The hum of the refrigerator. A gust. This pattern continues as the light fluctuates with passing clouds. I didn’t know the subtle changes my backyard experienced at this time of day.

I used to hear playground noise, the vacuum next door, and the sound of movement above me as I made comments on post-its, reshelved books, picked up the pieces left behind. At this time of day, I used to sit in the cocoon of my classroom, readying for the next day with books, charts, and papers.

Now, the clouds cover the sun, and my living room darkens.  I turn the light on to click through the streams of messages. Google docs, Google classroom, gmails, school email, texts. All of these connecting tools give a false sense of feedback. At this time of day, I miss making a list of kiddos to talk with tomorrow. As we distance ourselves from our kiddos, the face-to-face, pen-to-paper interactions that are the heart and soul of the day-to-day teaching and learning cycle feel dearer.

 

6 thoughts on “slice of life: at this time

  1. Oh, what we never know we’re going to miss, caught up in the idea of a forever-routine. Beautiful, evocative and succinct, the comparison between the environments particularly moving.

  2. That’s the heart of what I felt with our Zoom meeting, a false connectedness. It was sure better than nothing, but not nearly as good as the real thing.

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