Did You Need A Reminder?

 You don't need me to tell you that times are hard. 

Or maybe you do. In which case, here goes: Times are hard.

Okay, now that's settled, I will tell you what made me arrive at this conclusion. For months now, I have sat at a table at an elementary school, fielding questions and concerns about technology from parents, students, and staff. I have coordinated efforts to ensure that the potential for online learning exists. What we are all discovering is that you can lead a horse to a laptop, but you can't make him type. 

So the equine metaphor may be stretching things a bit, but try as we might, there are still a good many kids who are not taking to this idea of distance learning as we might have hoped. We have supplied devices for them to connect to Al Gore's Internet. We have supplied them with devices to connect to these connections to allow digital back and forth with their teachers. As previously mentioned, my primary function for this school year has been to make sure that anything that interferes with those connections can be ameliorated. I have been given a new acronym for just this purpose: DLL, or Distance Learning Lead. And even though I can put machines in their hands, and make sure that they are functioning as they should, once they leave campus I have no control over when and how they get turned on. If they get turned on. 

I can say that the majority of our families remain dedicated to the pursuit of their children's education, as parents and caregivers are forced to learn more about wi-fi signals and online applications than they every imagined they would need to. We have a few cases of kids who have moved during the pandemic and still maintain their connection to the school, even though they have moved out of the district for whatever reason. 

Meanwhile, up the street from where I live, the Urban Montessori School that used to be housed in our neighborhood's recently closed Catholic School has shut its doors. Starting up a charter school in today's environment is a challenge, maintaining it through this winter of discontent is another. There are a number of great big empty buildings that would normally be teeming with the stuff of learning five days a week. Like the one in which I find myself on a regular basis. Vacant classrooms. Playgrounds whose only inhabitants are the crows who have given up hope of scrounging a leftover scrap of a snack or nearly empty bag of Cheetos. 

Parents look to me for answers, hoping that what I tell them will make a change occur. Students who show up, masked, wish they could come back to be with their friends and the familiarity that seems so long ago. I tell them how I look forward to dropping into their Zoom meetings, and our weekly Star Student online assemblies. 

Still empty. 

November. 

Times are hard.