How Do You Measure A Year?

March 13, 2020 was a lot of things. A Friday. Friday the 13th. A week after my birthday.

The last normal day of school and daycare before the world changed.

The last time I took the subway. The last time I saw my students in person.

Weirdly, I have one of the self-contained classes again this semester that I taught last spring. They’re the only students I’ve had all year that I’ve met in person. It’s just so weird to think about.

I remember one of the kids saying to me, “Miss, this is the last day. Can’t you be nicer?” I remember scoffing, because at the point, the mayor was pushing back hard about closing schools at all. It wasn’t until the weekend that the governor told the mayor to close the NYC schools or else. But I often think of that exchange. Could I have been nicer? Was I just exasperated by that student’s behavior as usual? I don’t know.

I do remember that there were a lot of kids who were absent that day because their parents kept them home out of fear. But I don’t remember much else in detail about that day. It was mostly a regular day. I took the train home and picked the girls up from daycare. I told people to have a nice weekend, and that I would see them on Monday.

I had had an observation earlier in the week and a picture of the student work had popped up in my memories from that week.

It doesn’t look that remarkable, but this was the last time I was able to do this type of activity on paper, with students in front of me.

It is so weird to reflect on all of this.