Today, I am writing because I am up at 4 am after staying up late watching history, sad history, continue to unfold. I am not entirely sure this will be coherent. I am sure it may be more for me than for anyone else, Regardless, I write, and I write because yesterday I sat and watched a surreal scene unfold before me. As teachers, our conversations quickly turned to our students, how we will do what is best for them today, tomorrow, and as we move forward.
My first inclination was to try and process what was happening. I was struggling to do that. Still am, to a degree, which is part of why I am up. As teachers, so often, we attempt to process not only everything that is going on in front of us and how it will affect our families, our spouses, and our children, but also how it will affect our kids in our classrooms, the young people we care so much about, their well-being. their futures, our relationships with them, and our ability to help them grow and succeed. As we watched a mob force their way into the Capitol, teachers were already discussing "what do our classrooms look and sound like tomorrow?"
As the evening progressed, I saw many posts and messages that stated, in one form or another "tomorrow is not just another school day." I get the sentiment. I really do, and I grasp the idea. But still.
Not just another school day.
Many of my students will know immediately why that statement, written in that way, makes me tense up. You see, as we are seeing with immense clarity, words have meaning. Words have power. That word "just" is one that I have grown to despise. I have written about it, taught lessons on it, and tried to remove it from my own usage when possible. "Just". It is dismissive. It is insulting. It is subtle but it is powerful.
You see, every day is another school day. No day is just another school day. Or at least it shouldn't be.
"Well, ok, but what it means is that tomorrow is not a normal school; it has significance."
Uh huh. Gotcha. That doesn't make it any better.
First of all, point me to the last "normal" school day any of us has had. Go ahead; point it out on the calendar. I'll wait.
Actually, no, I won't. I have things to do. You see: today is another school day, and I, like so many other teachers who are now awake, still awake, or tossing and turning, will figure this out. Today (and tomorrow) is another school day (and for those who don't know, even days that are not school days are school days. If you know, you know). It is significant. It is important. So, I am going to try and figure out how to do today what I hope I do in some way every other day: create a space (unfortunately a virtual one today) of hope, where my kids feel safe and confident enough to process, to ask questions, to question me, to think critically, to learn, and to grow.
Today is another important school day.
