Hey teachers, I just wanted to let you know that however this week goes down, it’s all good. We’re on your team.
This wasn’t what you signed up for, and I sort of can’t believe you’re actually going to attempt to do this. Your life is about to become one giant conference call with two dozen 9-year-olds who have no set bedtime and are hopped up on Captain Crunch and whatever their parents have been stress-baking for the past 12 days. What could possibly go wrong?
In light of this, our family is giving you blanket permission to do this however the heck you want for the next two months.
Your kid wants to sit on your lap while you teach long division? That’s great.
Need to stress eat half a bag of Cheetos while you’re trying to explain how to calculate Experimental Error? Go for it.
Feel like having morning meetings in your pajamas—all month long? It’s a judgment-free zone here. Lord knows that’s what I’ll be wearing until at least noon.
Having a panic attack because you need to check in on your parents and wanna point that Zoom camera at three straight episodes of Sponge Bob for an English assignment? Excellent plan.
Want to just sit there and ask them how their days were for 40 minutes without mentioning a single thing about MLA formatting? Please, God, do that.
See, I don’t care if you teach my kids one more thing this semester, and this is why:
Just by showing up, by checking in, by caring enough to do this freaking IMPOSSIBLE job—you’ve already taught them the only things I really wanted them to get out of school.
You’ve taught them people are flexible—they adapt to new things.
You’ve taught them people will show up for them even when it’s hard.
You’ve taught them communities work together for the greater good.
You’ve taught them the world is a good place. That even when circumstances are scary, people are good.
You’ve loved them enough to be there—and that’s all any of us can do, is love each other through this.
I’ve got three at home right now—the little, the senior and the college “kid” who is almost a teacher himself. I don’t care which kid of mine you’re working with, all three need those lessons reinforced right now.
Our kids will be OK.
Take care of yourselves, too. We love you. You’ve got this—and if you don’t, I’m not telling.