Virtually Built Relationships are Stronger than you Think
Imagine with me, if you will: It is December 2020, in Indianapolis, Indiana, USA. It is icy cold outside as Winter arrives with its North wind. You have just tucked your son into bed, snug and warm. You have sat down to relax for the first time all day. As you wait for your husband to arrive home from a long day’s work, you doze off in the chair. You wake up to what you think is the smell of smoke. As your senses fully awaken you, you open your eyes to a hazy room, only second before the alarms start sounding. You jump up and run for your son’s room. Yanking back his covers, you frantically grab him and run for the door, coughing through the smoke as it rolls in. How long until the flames begin to flick through the windows? Will the door be hot? Will you get out in time?
Now, imagine this same scene, except your life’s belongings are all packed away in carefully labelled boxes, stacked in various areas around the room from your move three days prior. As the smoke rolls in and you stumble through them, thoughts racing: Can you get your son out in time? Where are your family’s favourite pictures? Where are your important papers like birth certificates, the new lease and insurance papers? Will you even be covered for the new apartment after three days?
Are you anxious yet, by just the mere thought of experiencing this? Can you imagine it getting worse? What if I told you that part of the paperwork in question was your immigration paperwork because not only had you moved into your new apartment three days prior to the fire currently raging through the complex, you and your husband had just made the trek across the world to start a new and better life for your family? As you cradle your screaming child against your body, you see your dreams burning before your stinging eyes.
Now, enter an even more difficult piece to the puzzle. Two weeks prior to this horrendous nightmare, you sat in a doctor’s office, hearing a diagnosis that your son has an Autism Spectrum Disorder. You have known for a couple of years that something had changed in him and he wasn’t able to cope the same way as he had before. That his sweet toddler giggles were now replaced with eye contact averted with a stranger. Change is incredibly difficult for him, and the move to a land oceans away was hard enough, but now, this sweet child was literally watching his world burn down three days after having to move out of the first place he knew as his safe place in his new world.
If you all are like me, this story broke your heart. Luckily, though, this story has a happy ending. You see, this boy is a student in my class. In our district, parents were able to choose if they wanted their children to be fully virtual learners this year due to Covid-19. He was one such student. As the teacher for these online learners, I have not actually had the privilege of meeting them face-to-face thus far. We are currently 80 days into the school year.
I remember as the school year began, I was worried that being completely virtual would be a huge barrier in building relationships with my students. I was worried that students wouldn’t have school to be their “safe place” that so many of them need. I was worried about how I would teach my young scholars to read via the Internet. I was worried that they wouldn’t get to experience the school the way it should be for them.
And then, Tuesday morning, my sweet, barely verbal little guy logged in – clearly agitated, but still participating in class. I was concerned with his noticeable agitations, and wanted to offer my help, if possible. Midday, I was able to speak with his mom and learned of the horrible fire from the night before. I’m not sure if you are a spiritual person, or a Believer, but I will be remiss if I don’t share one addition to this story. Monday night, as I sat awake waiting for sleep, I heard fire trucks from all directions for what seemed like an hour. I turned on the news and saw an apartment complex blazing with flames like I had never seen before. I prayed for the people to get out unscathed, for the firefighters to be safe and act quickly, without complications from the freezing cold temperatures of the night. Little did I know that my student and his family had just moved to this exact apartment complex, and at that very moment, I was covering them in prayers.
Why am I sharing this story with all of our readers? How many of us are overwhelmed with the same worries of reaching our students amid a pandemic, where we may never see them live and in person? How many of us have students that we have to beg, plead, call, text, email and refer to social services to even get a handful of assignments from? How many of us worry that school will not be the safety net for children that it used to be? My hand is raised high in the air as a resounding yes to all these questions.
Here is where I offer an amazing dose of hope: For every single live lesson I presented this week, for every small group time I hosted, for every laugh and smile to my students through a screen, my fire survivor was in attendance. Through the chaos, not a lesson missed. When I spoke with his mom, I encouraged her to take the time they needed as a family to get settled, do paperwork, to calm their son and to begin the process of starting over…again. I encouraged her to take as much time as they needed and not to worry about school until after the new year. (We only have 9 days of school left before Winter break here.) His health and happiness was my primary – and quite frankly – only concern at that point.
Yet, day after day, he was there on my screen. Even though the night of the fire, they drove to a city out of state to stay with family, the closest they had, he was logged in for every class, every lesson, every conversation. There is a small language barrier and so I called his mom just to make sure she knew I didn’t expect him to be there and that he wouldn’t be penalised for missing. What she told me in that conversation shouldn’t have shocked me, but it did. She had understood me perfectly. She told me through tears that he was happier and calmer when he was with me in class, that he was sad without me and his friends. That he needed to be logged in to our Google Meets to maintain the shred of normalcy and routine that they had left. School was his anchor.
You see, it didn’t matter that we weren’t together in a brick and mortar building for those 80 days of school. I was his teacher. He was my student. We were able to build a relationship that was just as strong as years when we are in person together. School was still a safe place. It was still the routine that he needed to feel safe amid the chaos. So, wherever you are in the world right now, if you are teaching virtually, be encouraged! What you are doing matters – and it’s making lifelong impacts on young lives. No matter how tired you are, keep going, don’t worry about being perfect – just be you and love your students. The rest will come.
