Smiling with masks

I am most fulfilled when I am exhausted. 

Perhaps it stems from having grown up in the white mountains of New Hampshire with the seemingly endless stacking of wood, the day-long mountain adventures deep into the Pilot and Presidential mountain ranges, and the underlying "Live Free or Die" modus operandi.

Even now, as a resident of coastal Connecticut, where there are few wood stoves and even fewer mountains, I love the days that exhaust me. I'll run miles of hills until my quads scream for mercy, and I'll chase my kids around at the beach until the sun sets.

But this return to school? Boy, oh boy, has it tried me in terms of managing my exhaustion. After 12 years of working at the same school, everything is new, every person is on deck and necessary, and finding time to rest is nearly impossible.

Even with the frenetic pace and constant shifting as we venture forth, after spending last spring learning and teaching from home, and wishing for a day with my students again, this start to the school year is already the most fulfilling I've ever had as a teacher. I have relished every day, every class period, every conversation, every exchange with my students. I love being here among these people.

You see, even with masks handicapping our facial expressions and muffling our words, I feel like I've never gotten to know my students more quickly. And part of that reason stems from the fact that we can't smile at each other. 

Nonverbal cues like smiling at an individual student, or knowingly scrunching our faces in frustration, or raising our eyebrows and dropping our jaws when we wait for a moment of slight (and tasteful) sarcasm or humor to drop on our unknowing students are the bread and butter of an 8th grade teacher's toolbox. Without facial expressions we are missing an opportunity to connect, reassure, and develop trusting rapport with our students.

So what have I done? Well, I've been more intentional in the ways I'm communicating. I've needed to show warmth with intentional words and communication. And I've asked for more feedback from my students. I've used phrases like, "Okay, so this is why I am assigning this..." or "The important thing to me in moments like this is..." because I realize we might not be together for the whole year. We might be on Zoom in a few months...or even a few weeks. And I don't want to waste a minute.

In fact, I'm assigning all my tests and quizzes as take-home assignments this month because I'm terrified that I'll waste an entire period when we could have been connecting and engaging in big, meaningful learning moments with them quietly writing things on their computers.

We don't know how many days we have. So in a world that doesn't allow me to smile, I need to smile with my energy, I need to check in more frequently to read the room, and I need to authentically remove any mystery about how much I love being my students' teacher.

I texted a friend, Ryan, the other day. I was checking in on his kids' return to school. He's not a teacher, but he works with young people. "How are you, really?" I asked in the text.

"I'm excited to live out the day." he replied.

Me too, my friend. May we wake excited to live, because in that living out of today, we are the lucky ones.