The day after the announcement came that schools were cancelling all classes indefinitely, I sat in my empty classroom pondering what my next moves would be. Although it was strange not being met by my students that day, I couldn't help but appreciate the solidarity. Loud and busy students were replaced with a quietness that served as my unexpected confidant as I trailed off into deep thought. Despite other staff in my building, there were few conversations apart from a short meeting, for every teacher stayed in their own rooms, trying to process the news of what would be our new normal. As my thoughts wandered, I couldn't help but wonder if students were feeling the seriousness of the situation or enjoying a 'no school high' that likely follows a 'no more school for the rest of the year' announcement. Surely students will be hit with the new realities of not seeing their friend, teachers or school community for a while eventually? Waiting on news of what lea
If you had asked me back in September what I thought my second year teaching would look like, I doubt I would have answered with, "stuck in an apartment teaching my students online from my kitchen table." Like many educators in North America right now, it is quite the shift going from seeing students every day to being confined to teaching students at home using an electronic device of your choice. Perhaps, in some ways, this new teaching predicament warrants gratitude because it does give us some time to reflect on our practice and find rest from managing challenging behaviours every day. However, despite these challenging times I can't help but be reminded of that common phrase "the grass is not always greener on the other side, it is just different." I get it, it is a global pandemic that has everyone's lives turned upside down, perhaps it is only natural for all people (including teachers) to have waves of fear, anxiety and restlessness. Even though t