Missing Laughter - Teaching During the Pandemic

I heard one of my student’s laughter yesterday. She’s new and requested an office hours meeting. I figured it was to get clarification on an assignment or our new content, but she just wanted to chat. She told me she’s nervous about going back as a first year student and wants to make friends so she knows someone on campus when we’re in person. She told me she loves the movie Selena and she, together with a room full of little cousins, and I laughed about games and songs and life.

I miss their laughter the most. 

I miss the connection. I miss the side conversations and the tv show reviews. I miss the Tik Tok practicing in the corner and greetings at the door. I miss snacks and songs and silly jokes. I miss seeing when they’re hurting and dropping a piece of chocolate or a note on their desk. I miss my kids and God, how I miss their laughter.

This past year has been so hard on all of us. When we left school on Friday, March 13, 2020, we didn’t know that we wouldn’t be back on Monday, let alone for a whole year. It’s been challenging to lead students in learning activities and it’s been difficult to gauge response in this virtual environment but above all, it’s just been really sad. So many of my students are so disconnected from learning, from me, and from their peers. I have been struggling all year long to build those bridges back but there’s only so much one can do as the pain of isolation grows. The longer we’ve been apart, the deeper the divide. My heart hurts for my students. No one needs to say it, I know we’re all just a little depressed. 
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During the pandemic and my experience with distance learning, I have often been reminded of that scene in Children of Men when they stop at an abandoned elementary school. The midwife talks about how the sounds of children playing stopped. The laughter stopped. As a teacher, distance learning has been a very lonely experience. I long for those sounds as I believe learning should always be fun, should always incorporate play, and there should always be room for laughter. Without that sense of connection and fun, we might as well each be the last child, left alone in our own abandoned school. 

I wrote this poem a few months ago and since then, have certainly experienced some ups and downs. Since writing this, we have also been given that magical, long-anticipated date of return. We’re headed back to in person instruction on April 6 and while there’s still plenty of uncertainty, lots of safety concerns, and some worry about simultaneous virtual and in-person instruction, I am so happy to be going back.

Yesterday, as I drove home from some errands, blasting that same upbeat dance music I’ve been trying to distract myself with, I couldn’t stop the tears. This time, though, they were tears of joy. I can picture my students before me, my silly songs and funky dance moves bringing them a little taste of cheesy joy and I can hear it. The laughter, it’s coming back. It’s coming back and with it’s sweet sound, I’m shedding that weight on my chest, I’m laughing too and together, we’re starting to heal.

Missing Laughter

I miss the children
Watch them glide by
      A pack on wheels
I can almost 
Hear the classroom chatter
Over the bump of music
I’m using to
Drown the sound
Of thoughts
     -It’s almost been a year
Since we walked the halls
Sang our songs
Danced together for real
Sadness is breaking 
Chunks all around
Struggling to hold on
Through a little
      Hole
In my screen
But most days 
It feels like I’m losing