On Missing My "Fox Room"

There are days when my job is hard. Like really, really hard. Teaching is by far the most difficult, challenging, stressful, rage-inducing, and frustrating thing I've ever done in my life. At the same time, it is by far the most satisfying, fulfilling, fun, joyful, hilarious, and sometimes outright-ridiculous-in-the-best-way-possible thing I've ever done in my life.

Today we officially received word that there will be no in-person school for the rest of the year. I expected that notice. By the time I heard that the second state had decided to close schools for the rest of the year, I expected that Denver and Colorado would make their way to that same decision. I expected that I would have emails and texts from worried students about what that means for them. I expected to be sad and disappointed, even angry.

What I did not expect was how much that notice would break my heart. I did not expect to cry (again). I did not expect that March 12th would be the last time I see "my kids" this year. I did not expect to feel my heart drop into my stomach thinking about our seniors who do not get to have their senior signing day. I did not expect my heart to go out to all of our staff and our seniors who have worked so hard to found Byers High School to have their celebration of that hard work and that success taken away from them. You see, the class of 2020 is the founding class of my high school. They were the first 6th graders we ever had and many of our staff members have been working with these students since they were in 6th grade. I've never taught any of these seniors. In fact, I know very few of them. And I did not expect to feel so much pain thinking about what we--what they--are missing out on at the end of their senior year.

Now I know that sounds dramatic. And perhaps it is. 

My heart longs and aches to see "my kids" again. We have what we like to call a "fox room". If you have ever wondered if you can have a fox as a pet, the answer is yes. So long as you give the fox a room (or a backyard) where he can truly be a fox. He can dig, he can rip things up, he can play, he can be himself. For my 16 students and me, that room is 217. Every day from 12:16-1:14 we can be ourselves in  Room 217. For awhile I prided myself on creating a room like that for students. But during these last three weeks, I've realized how much that room meant to me. It was a place where I was allowed to make mistakes. My kids would call me out and we'd learn together. It was a place where I got to share my story in the hopes of inspiring 15 and 16 year olds to share their own story. It was a place where I got to learn about myself and hopefully show my kids that it's okay to not have all the answers and it's okay to take time to figure out who you are.

I miss my fox room. 

Of course we learn. We learn a lot. Just this year from August-March we learned about the history of Spain from the time of the Iberians and the Celts to the reign of the Catholic Kings, the ancient civilizations of Mesoamerica, the voyage of Christopher Columbus, the Conquest of the Americas, the Mexican Revolution and we had just started talking about Mexican immigration to the United States and the Chicano movements when our year abruptly changed. Right now I miss that room something awful. I miss the jokes, the laughter, the serious talks. I miss learning about who my kids are as human beings and I miss watching them grow into who they aspire to be. If I have learned anything this year, it is that a teacher's role is to continually learn alongside his/her students. 

As disappointed, angry, sad, heartbroken, frustrated as I am, I know that it is not in the best interest of my students to remain that way. I promised myself at the beginning of this year that I would always be the best I can possibly be for students. That does not mean lying to them nor does it mean that I need to bare my heart and soul to them. It means that on Wednesday, when we start online learning, I will struggle with them and for them. I will share in their frustrations and I will do my absolute best to lift their spirits. It means I will show up every day as their teacher and maybe put less emphasis on the learning objective of the day/week and more emphasis on making sure students know that they are loved.