We Are Not Okay

“How are you?” “I’m fine. You?” “Oh, I’m okay! Thanks for asking.” “Have a great day!” “You too!” I remember many conversations like these in my days pre-COVID. Passing coworkers or administrators in the hallway at work. Running into acquaintances in the cereal aisle at King Soopers. Hollering across driveways to neighbors. The dialogue was kind and polite–a quick way to connect with each other. Were we always fine or okay? Probably not–but for the passing greeting, it felt good and made for a pleasant connection in a busy day. Now, however, seven months since the pandemic hit the US, I just have to put this out there: I am not okay. We are not okay. No need to send in the counselors or bake me a cake, but I just want to be real for a short while.

This quarter of teaching has been my hardest ever (and that includes my two years of teaching fifth grade while getting my masters and also while pregnant and then caring for a newborn plus a toddler). If you know me at all, you know that I always give way too many late hours/early mornings to teaching. It doesn’t make me a better teacher, but it’s the only way I know how to accomplish all of what I need to do as a teacher and still be there for my family. I enjoy teaching, love my students, and take pride in my career. This year, however, to accomplish what I need to do as a teacher is taking even more time–time that isn’t there. I’m exhausted; I’m isolated. I believe my students are getting a good education, but this feels unsustainable.

My emotions are heightened this weekend, and I am stewing. Though I should be working on my paperwork (guilt, guilt, guilt), I have to write this out of my system. Our district is switching from remote to hybrid learning soon. Because I am an exempt teacher (due to my husband’s health), I will continue to teach from home while half of my students are in the classroom and half of them are at home. A fellow staff member will have to monitor my students as they learn. Ideal? Heck no. Worth keeping my husband alive and healthy? Absolutely. That said, the guilt is high. I don’t like being a burden to anyone. I sit here with the familiar, constant feeling that I’m not doing enough for my students, my family, and me.

Some people in our district are concerned about how the schools will create equity between teachers working in-person and the teachers who are exempt–feeling that the exempt teachers will be doing way less work than the in-person teachers. I totally get their concerns. They are facing the overwhelming fact of having to risk their health and teach half of their students in-person, while the other half of their students will be logging in from home and watching them on screens. They have to learn more technology to broadcast this instruction, worry about following safety protocols, and gain compliance and engagement from students who haven’t seen their classmates or the inside of a classroom since March. That is not okay. Looking to make that somehow equal with what the exempt teachers are facing, however, doesn’t jive either. I do not need busy work piled on me in order to make it seem fair. While I have the safety of home, I will not have the face-to-face connections with children or the familiar empathy of a neighboring teacher. I will continue to work long hours to create engaging online lessons, communicate with parents, complete paperwork, and more. I’ll do this all while staying home and living in isolation. That is not okay either.

No situation for teachers is okay right now, and I’m sure that goes for almost every other person out there. Parents are overwhelmed beyond belief. Health care workers are maxed out. Single parents are having to take health risks because they have no other option to keep food on the table. Grandparents are missing their grandbabies. (Love you, Mom and Dad!) This is not even mentioning the pain so many of our African American brothers and sisters are facing. And don’t get me started on the issues in politics that are weighing on us. (Can of worms, anyone?)

I guess the point is that we cannot know the pain and stress our neighbors are feeling right now. We cannot compare it or make it fair. We cannot easily make it disappear (though wearing our masks would help). What we can do is to listen with empathy and not make assumptions. We can hold space for people to feel what they are feeling. We can look each other in the eye and take deep breaths together. Certainly, we can demand that our policy makers make important choices, and we can vote, but in the day to day, we just need to live and feel and do what we can with what we have.

In the meantime, in case you are asking, I will tell you, “I am loved. I have a beautiful family and a crazy, beloved puppy. I have my health, a support network, a steady income, daily joys, and a job that I believe is essential and rewarding. I am NOT okay. How are you?”

This pandemic portrait was created for a school project a few years/months ago in April 2020. The project was organized by my wonderful coworker, Elena, and it was inspired by the work of  photographer, Gregg Segal, and teacher, Libby Beaty.