On my first day of online learning, 63 eager sixth grade faces appeared in Brady Bunch format on my English class Google Meet. I adjusted my additional monitor and accidentally pinned one student’s face to the screen, shutting off my view of every other pupil. Seconds crawled by as I welcomed students I couldn’t see.
Nothing in my 20 years of teaching taught me how to “unpin” the student’s face. I threw a Hail Mary pass to a friend’s son in my class. He unmuted himself and helped me.
In August, when the school year began, our district didn’t return to our brick-and-mortar schools. Never In my wildest imagination did I think schools would take so long to reopen in person. Teaching has always been full of surprises: Four years ago, I had a heart attack in front of the class.
During my annual Poetry Cafe with a packed classroom of students and parents, I broke out in a sweat while nausea and dizziness swept through my body. A clothesline-tight pressure pounced on my chest from my neck to my belly button and from one arm to the other as if an elephant had pinned my body to the ground.
Being an Ironman athlete, I sucked up the pain and allowed my student bard to finish his poem. “Let’s take a break for snacks,” I told my classroom.
Trying to catch my breath, I sat down at my desk when a parent said, “You’re white as a sheet. ” After I ate her offered chocolate donuts, I felt better and finished the class.
I didn’t know it at the time, but I’d experienced a heart attack caused by a SCADD event. SCADD is a condition in which one’s artery shreds, causing a heart attack when blood doesn’t get to the heart. No one knows what causes SCADD or how to prevent it. To my joy, my heart healed, so I returned to teaching.
Although it had been four years of no heart issues, because of the COVID-19 pandemic, I accepted the district option of teaching the school year online. With my three extra-long stents, I’m aware COVID-19 can cause blood clots, which would be tricky for my blood thinner.
With my subpar computer skills, online teaching was a long, humbling learning curve. But learn I did. Once I remembered the goal of connecting with the children, I set out to build student-teacher relationships, experiencing a strong bond with students during personal meets, one-on-one tutoring, and collaboration study groups. To my surprise, many students soared to new education levels. One student decided to write a book, many lower-level writers transformed to proficient writers, and 15 students vaulted to advanced English.
Still, it’s a brave new world of teaching from home. Some students refuse even to try. No matter how hard I push, these students trapped by pandemic fatigue won’t engage. I understand. If I were them, I might not either.
Nevertheless, I soldier on to reach these struggling students through exciting games, group projects, and inspirational books. It’s an uphill battle when students won’t show their faces, only their avatars. Many weeks, this small group of students ditches homework, my class, and one-on-one meetings, and even if they do come to class, they won’t talk, try, or respond. A lot of times, they won’t watch my videos, read my slide decks, or return messages, so I meet with the family. Sometimes, that helps, and sometimes, it doesn’t.
After almost a year of trying to engage these detached students, parents are right to fear their child might be falling behind online. Education is a touchy subject. Granted, I’m online for health concerns, but that doesn’t mean every student can learn online. The only way to stop students from slipping through the cracks of online learning is to allow them the choice to learn in person safely.
Everyone can agree the youth need a top-notch education. Adults must roll up their sleeves and conquer this pandemic mountain. Our children are watching. Our children are waiting. Our children are worth it.
Suzy Ryan was awarded Valley Middle School’s 2020 teacher of the year and lives in Carlsbad, California. Her debut novel, Invincible Summer, is coming soon on her website, suzyryan.com.
