Waldorf Distance Learning | A Back-to-School Like None Other

As I write this, it’s Back-to-School Eve Eve and I’m putting together my binder, writing out my first day lessons, singing songs and practicing verses. And though I’ve been prepping all summer, this is the moment I’m realizing I actually have no idea what to expect.

Every year there’s some element of uncertainty. You do all your summer prep, reconnect with families in August, see all the students’ older, tanned faces, prepare the classroom — but then there comes that moment when you’ve prepared as much as you can and you just have to stop, shrug your shoulders, take a deep breath and trust. (And hope you get some sleep the night before school starts.)

This year, that dive-in-and-hope-for-the-best feeling is stronger than ever. Never before have I started the year with such uncertainty about what my days are going to look like. And it’s not for lack of preparation (goodness knows, there’s been plenty of that this summer). It’s mainly because my students , their parents, and I are about to embark on a journey in completely uncharted waters.

Distance Learning Waldorf Style

My school is one of many around the country that is starting the year online. Our governor drew a blessedly-clear line in the sand that tells us precisely what COVID metrics must be in place for us to have school in-person. And though we’re all desperately wishing for school-as-usual, we want to do it safely.

And it’s not lost on me that the distance learning sacrifice that my families are making is not for the sake of their children’s health — they’ll be just fine. But this elementary school teacher’s immune system ain’t what it used to be. I confess that a part of me is not relishing the idea of returning to the petri dish.

Instead, our lessons will be on Zoom. My robust class will be split into two online cohorts and I’ll teach “daily” lesson (we can’t call it “morning lesson” anymore) twice. While I’m working with one cohort for two hours, the other group will have two hour-long subject lessons. And then we’ll switch.

I’m honestly so proud of the solution my school has come to and I truly believe it is the best learning environment we can provide, given the circumstances. Throughout our summer discussions, there were many ideas floated, all voices were heard and we arrived at what I think will work pretty well. I’m confident my students will make actual progress this year.

We’re under no delusion, however, that we’ll have to adjust and tweak things along the way. We’re already looking for ways to reduce our students’ Zoom time and recognizing that screen-fatigue is a real thing that we’ll do our best to mitigate.

This is why I am SO grateful to have healthy, communicative relationships with my class parents. When we’re in-person, I can trust my own observation and intuition to make sure my lessons are meeting the needs of all of my students. Now I need to rely on feedback from those parents. Yes, I’ve got the pedagogical and child development perspective, but they’ve got ALL the observation. My head. Their hands. Together, we’re the heart.

Practicing and Making Mistakes

Though everything looks and feels so different, I’m doing my best to remember that school is still all about practicing and making mistakes. I thought a lot this summer about how to create a safe environment for mistake-making online. I realized that a huge part of this depends on all of the other adults who are participating in this grand experiment.

Just take a minute to imagine the plight of these kids. They’re desperate to learn and have to figure out how to do it in a completely foreign medium. They want to be understood, but so many of the tools they usually use to express themselves (body language, movement, connection) are completely unavailable. They want to connect with and please their teacher, but they have a very narrow (Zoom) window in which to do it. Now add to that picture the idea that all of their classmates — and their parents! — are there to witness every mistake.

Are you feeling compassionate yet?

When a class community thinks about ALL of the children with this kind of compassion, caring about the development of ALL of the students, just as much as their own, they create an environment that fosters growth. Parents realize that those other kids’ mistakes are contributing to their child’s learning — not taking away from it. This is the kind of learning community my class families and I are collaborating to create. Because of this striving, I’m envisioning lots of courageous risk-taking and compassionate understanding in our online lessons this year.

Grieving the Loss

I tend to be a pretty positive person. My baby-boomer, self-help enthusiast mother taught me early on to question the “usefulness” of emotions. I’m pretty quick to decide that feelings like sadness, guilt or regret serve no purpose in my development, so I readily kick them to the curb. And when it comes to current circumstances, I’ve been so absorbed with the practical, I hadn’t given much energy to wishing for what couldn’t be.

But last week I met with my class families and I could see how tangible and raw their emotions were. It wasn’t hard to understand where they were coming from, and these weren’t feelings that could be easily shrugged off.

These families have made such intentional, thoughtful choices for their children. And now they’re watching those parental hopes and dreams become compromised by real-world circumstances. This is not what they spent years envisioning and sacrificing for. This is really hard.

And still. They express their support every step of the way. They keep coming back and contributing. They listen to my recommendations and support their children in every way they can. The result is the tremendous gift of a learning community in which parents and teachers work in partnership.

Tonight, on Back-to-School Eve Eve, when my mind is awash with uncertainty and doubt, this is what gives me hope. I want to honor their commitment and sacrifice and I want to carry my share of the burden.

No doubt it’s going to be a heck of a hard-working year. But I know it is going to bring gifts we don’t understand and can’t anticipate. Gratitude for this community is just the beginning and I’m committed to discovering the rest of the hidden gems this year will bring.

One of my class parents signed off an email today with two small words that sum up exactly how I’m feeling right now.

In this.

I hope you are too.