Empty Chairs at Empty Tables
I went into my classroom to grab some resources that I was missing. My work was open for two hours and we were asked to book a slot, message the site manager on arrival and exit, wear blue gloves & use sanitising wipes on every door.
I had to smile slightly (my eyebrow was certainly raised) when I recalled how, on Friday 20th March, there had been hugs-a-plenty between staff and students alike as we said our farewells until we meet again.
As I entered my classroom, I was struck by the silence. I could hear a pin drop. I love that expression- to me, it’s the sound of hard work and concentration; it’s the sound of “I’m engrossed in this so much that I’m journeying through it alone” or in some cases: “I’ll get bollocked if I don’t get this finished by the end of the lesson”.
Today though, hearing that pin drop was not right; it wasn’t comfortable and I longed to hear those voices again: “Miss, I don’t get it” and “Miss, I’m not sure what the writer’s going on about”.
It will be back soon and I’ll be back again, in my proper atmosphere, insisting on the pin-drop silence so that we’ll ensure our efforts are of the best standard possible.
I might allow them a catch up chat first though and I anticipate the following:
“Miss, did you get on a sesh during lockdown?”
“Miss, did you join tiktok yet?”...
- Apple iPhone 7