Teaching 2nd Grade Through COVID

March 23, 2021

Dear Friends,

Two weeks ago my 350 students had their last art class of the school year. It was March 18. Unlike last year, we were not forced home out of fear and uncertainty to learn new words like quarantine, pandemic, coronavirus, unprecedented and social distance (words I will happily erase from my memory), but in order to come back to school. Full time! For our last class we made portfolios like it was the end of the year to celebrate our trimester of learning.

That week brought a wave of loss, uncertainty and disappointment as, for the second time that year, I had to let go of all the learning my students had not been able to experience, and wouldn’t. This loss echoed that of the last trimester when we finished teaching half the in-person classes and switched to the other, feeling a little like groundhog day. My three fully remote classes also had their last Art too. While they had benefited from two whole trimesters of real time Google Meet facilitated Art (where the mute and raise hand buttons became our key to counter chaos), it was just as hard to say goodbye standing in front of the pinhole camera of our district issued Chromebooks as it was in real life standing in front of my students (in their homerooms). Acknowledging this shared reality, this sense of loss, throughout COVID really, made it possible to move forward. Like Churchill said “When you’re going through hell, keep going,” echoed in the torn page from a New Balance catalog pinned to my classroom bulletin board: “The only way is through,” (nb, 2020). So we kept going.

The shift from two days to five was not without dizzying logistics though. Regardless, this week we welcomed all students back to school every day! Students are settling into this parent-driven full time five day return, some within new cohorts and physical classroom spaces and with different teachers, like my 7 second graders now under my direction. The only difference is, this all hands on deck (no new hires, still no pool of willing subs) has eliminated the Arts from each student’s everyday. And to think the day-to-day could not get any more complicated, heart-wrenching, isolating, difficult or confusing (I’m still not used to seeing my adorable clientele wearing masks), with all the characteristic layers and ripples and dominoes prevailing as the only disruptive constant in this whole tangled derailing upheaval called COVID-19. Despite major anxiety-inducing unknowns concerning schedule, process, lunchtime, new rules and mandates and even the list of names of my potential class, and seemingly few, if any other options, I got over myself and threw myself into teaching second grade with much guidance and support from a partner teacher whose class I would teach half of.. There were no choices here, COVID has robbed us of most of those and I was fully resigned to the fact that this was what I needed to do right now and how I could best support all of our students.

A teacher is a teacher no matter what they teach. I could do this! I charted my own course in the beginning as I transitioned from Art in a box (remember, I stubbornly resisted the cart, preferring to do, possibly permanent, skeletal damage in carrying my lesson materials to each classroom rather than wheel them) to Art room turned Second grade classroom. A classroom complete with 7 tiny pretend wood desks exactly and perfectly 6 isolating feet apart. Funny to think just 16 years ago I had issued my one and only request (complaint) that my students could not possibly work on the 20+ desks that I inherited in that space when I first accepted the job . . . children would never be able to work on paper larger than that tiny dimension, would drop and spill all of their materials off the close borders of that unconducive furniture, (which was proven as I moved from room to room this year). I was awarded 8 beautiful, colorful tables and 25 plastic and chrome chairs to match! And now, for fear of losing any of my carefully curated classroom furniture or contents to the unknown storage area, I hefted those beautiful colorful tables on top of each other to create the necessary room to sufficiently socially distance my students out within a 34x22 foot room. I slid the extra 18 chairs underneath the tables and stacked drying racks and portfolio stands on top, filling up the reading corner and nature lab, formerly our lockdown hiding space. I stowed away all evidence of this year’s room to room and outdoor Art, most materials and tools, but not my books and visuals and posters. I left the nature lab set up, somewhat inaccessible behind a forbidden stand fan, but still visible behind the formerly useful, now in the way furniture.

Next, I implemented the bossy COVID rules and guidelines beyond the six feet, taping the floor like a boxed in cage as a reminder to stay put. The beginning-of-the-year still shiny floor from only me coming and going over the last 100 days, reminded me of sterile, scary places like hospitals and office buildings. I tried to picture my class and started to reupholster my bulletin boards with new colorful paper and patterned borders. I modeled my room after my partner teacher and the class’s original room. I clipped Fundations vowel team cards to the white board, wrote the date 3 ways and my standard “It’s a great day for a great day!” in tropical color dry erase markers (thanks Target!) I posted the photo of their classroom rules on the wall and neatly wrote out our daily schedule on the board-all the core subjects, snack, lunch, and (due to parent protest at the initial exclusion!) recess! I dressed up my standard issue WB Mason desk calendar and felt some relief at the tunnel vision that had taken over. In the days to come I learned the names of my seven as they carried their book boxes down from their original classroom. They came from the class I had been paired with as support on Wednesdays, formally home learning slash “deep clean” school day.

Despite knowing all students over the course of 3 years, sometimes more (PK-2), this group and I had spent extra time together, albeit virtually, to date. Regardless, they came into room 418, formerly the Art room, with eyes wide like they had just emerged from a spaceship onto a new planet with comments like “Yay!” and “It looks sooooo different!” One friend blew in the door shouting “I didn’t want to keep you in suspense!!!” They seemed excited! Me too!

The weekend came and went, and just like every other night before the first day of school, I couldn’t sleep at all! So many re-starts this year! I felt nervous (even after 16 years!), a little nauseous, but like we do, I hid it! (Even from bossy temperature check robot lady!) And I resisted the urge to guzzle my travel mug of home coffee (no in between classes restroom breaks til 1:30!) Standing at my classroom door at 8:20 that morning I held my breath. Maybe I thought they wouldn’t show up, but then I heard their elephant feet stomps up the steps as their adorable masked faces emerged too, trudging up the stairs! Phew! I breathed a sigh of relief. “Good Morning Mrs. Olson!” Yes, I smiled. I Knew I could do this! We could do this. Two weeks later, visions of 3 digit expanded notation math problems, the steps to opinion writing and bus dismissal lists, hot and cold lunch menu options and long e word lists file through my mind, but we are learning (all of us!) and even having fun! This was never a big deal to them and it only has been to me because as teachers we kill ourselves to do the very best for our students every single day-no matter what. They transitioned without missing a beat, better than others as the complication and ripple effect details rose to the surface for the cafeteria staff, dismissal procedures and bus drivers.

No one knew the Art room was now, not only a classroom, but a lunch room! We had to track down highly anticipated hot lunch and chocolate milk for my crew the first day, but not since of course! We all worked out a great hallway delivery system directed by a daily order written on a whiteboard hanging from the doorknob. Touchfree delivery in a box in the hallway, just like the restaurants and stores. Missing any contact with others besides the Superintendent’s check-in visits, the custodian’s ritual disinfecting sweep and daily classroom swap lessons with their original teacher, my students made heartfelt thank you notes thanking the custodians on National Custodians Day, the office staff on Administrative Assistant Day, our nurse on Nurse’s Day and the cafeteria staff for feeding them every day!

Happy unforeseens abound! Although I knew my 7, most for 3 years or more, I knew them mainly as artists. Artists who wrote artist statements, captions, stories to illustrate, letters, used numbers and operations, geometry, fractions, simple science concepts of animal classification, matter, gravity, etc, not quite the depth necessary to be their second grade teacher. I quickly found out which ones needed prodding at which times. Understandably, they all have their favorite subject. When Jamie would just sit through writing time, but devour books at Reading, I thought to try to spin his perspective that all these A-Z Mystery books he loves so much are written by someone and that he could think of his writing for someone else to read. To my surprise it worked! I learned quick, re-learned my own second grade knowledge (except for the new math!), and have great support through my partner teacher.

I also learned much more about these children than the previous years of 45 minute weekly classes could possibly reveal. Matthew was already planning to be a cardiologist, proclaimed some fuzzy math to justify the cost and time and listened to my reassurance when he asked Molly’s “show and tell” Magic 8 Ball if it would happen and she smirked when responding “doubtful!” (He even googled the accuracy of Magic 8 Ball results!) JT is obsessed with “destruction” like the Titanic and the Hindenburg, has only chocolate milk for lunch each day, Dante loves pasta and Ruby has a little brother. “When Corona time is over,” she says, I’m going to California to see my grandma! Little vignettes of everyday life playing out at warp speed before the bell! Sadly, my seven keep asking what “special” they have each day. I have to remind them that was the compromise to the 5 day return. All hands on deck and no time or personnel to offer anything but the core (or 3 R’s!). I will not acknowledge the message this sends, again.

Uncertainty, a focus on the high stakes tested Math and Language Arts (and the rigid schedule) prevented any other option. The parents did restore the original no recess version of the 5 day return schedule, but not Art, Music, PE and Library. Hopefully this is not a permanent trend. I did receive several emails from parents sharing their sadness at the discontinuation of weekly Art Ed and a few student responses, including a song: Drawing, having fun You anced (introduced) me to more cooler (color) and you have music when we are drawing, makeing sclopshers (sculptures) and chating (chatting) You are inspiering Thank you To “inspier” during COVID, that feeling is definitely mutual! So, as a weak concession, Integrated Arts teachers are still responsible for creating, recording and posting weekly lessons for all grade levels. More underlying complications as the lessons could not continue the curricula, but needed to be condensed as only one posted lesson spanning K-2. How to develop meaningful learning experiences for such a vast grade span? I must admit I was resistant at first, not subscribing to the trivial aspect associated with drilling kids in person and sending them home to log on to a virtual recorded lesson to complete their Arts classes each day (talk about associated resentment : ( Play outside, eat a snack, take off your mask, breathe, nap, be kids! My team felt similarly, but we chose days and reinvented ourselves specific to our disciplines and resilient thinking. I developed a dozen Artist Study lessons which introduced students to each artist as a person first by way of birthdate, home country, family details, language spoken, favorites, challenges, school, historical and geographical references and finally, their art. I share maps and visuals and my face recorded, to connect and remind, prior to offering ideas for exploring the genre and media used by the artist. I feel like I am moonlighting each week as I steal minutes to think, research, write, gather and plan each recording. A weak pulse of my other life. Despite the guilt I feel as I post each lesson to my 32 Google Classrooms every Wednesday morning, I receive a handful of emails sharing a “love” of the lesson and Chromebook camera images of their hands holding their inspired works! I have made slideshows of any correspondence and feel like Christmas morning when my inbox shows emails from my students! Another happy outcome, a substantial and valuable archive of much of my enrichment curriculum. Working with my veteran partner, or “buddy”, teacher each day has been a savings grace. It has been a firsthand real time understanding and, previously missing, true and authentic appreciation for each other's role, expertise and strengths. Any misunderstanding, stereotyping, inequity or animosity between regular ed and arts ed have fallen by the wayside out of sheer necessity. What could be a forced pairing has developed as a true collaboration, especially tricky during the past year. We have a standing (masked) plan time, reviewing work in all content areas day by day. We exchange student accomplishments, roadblocks, stories and encourage each other. She is retiring at the end of this year and what a strange year to conclude a long and meaningful career. Do you even commit this one to memory? How do you have a virtual retirement party? For her birthday, the kids at least made cards and delivered them and a beautiful bouquet of flowers to her classroom door, parade style, disallowed from actually stepping foot into the room, let alone sharing hugs. The Oscars can happen, but not school celebrations. . . #soovercovid

While, I’m hoping this will be my last installment, who knows what scenario Fall will bring . . .a good, better, like-it-used-to-be one we hope . . . ? Either way, Art must make a comeback! Seems to me creativity and out of the box thinking deserves the credit for helping us all survive this “pandamic”! It would be nice to think it could last beyond emergency measures and unprecedented times. In this hindsight 2020, now a full year later, a moment that really sums up this incredibly surreal and unbelievably challenging year happened during a February break trip to the mountains. I found myself happily snowshoeing solo while my husband and youngest daughter skied. The first day I trekked around the network of trails behind the hotel, but the next day I, possibly carelessly, took the path I had somehow not noticed the day before-the trail up Eagle Mountain. I had limited time but something pushed me, urged me forward, despite better judgement. I had no idea what to expect , but was characteristically determined, even as the snowy path blurred with the forest and the course steepened, becoming more and more vertical. It was windy, lightly snowing, but I kept going, hat on, hat off when warm, feeling some self doubt, but still determined. Exposed rock made it harder to find my footing, I started to wonder about getting back, retracing my steps . . . would I? Could I? I wanted to reach the top, to see the view, to know what was there . . .despite the wind, flurries and increasing fear. A lot like this year of COVID. I did make it, the view, accomplishment caught my breath . . . I made a vlog as my 14 year old likes to do and I picture that moment at the summit, the view, the openness, the beauty, the snowflakes whirling, the quiet, the cold wind trying to push me over . . . a perfect metaphor for all that has happened, except, here, at school, I am not alone. Each day I, like my colleagues isolated on the other side of the walls, lead my 7 to their buses at the end of the day and I relive that feeling of accomplishment, reaching the top, despite uncertainty, fear, treachery, doubt; one more day, a good day with a great view, an in-person, real-time view of little faces I know well, A view of more to come, where we’re going, to keep going. Hell is not here. Not much longer anyway.

Kimberly Olson, BFA ‘92, MAT ‘93
Art Education Centre School
Hampton, New Hampshire