"The Internet is a place," I could see myself starting. "I mean, it's not a physical place, but it's not solely in your mind, either. You can physically see it, engage with it, and communicate with almost anybody! Most people in the US have access to portable devices with glowing screens that can connect to the Internet. It's an infinite source of knowledge."
"Indubitably," responds the hypothetical person from the past, who, regardless of time period and region, would definitely use that term, "people in your time must love taking advantage of its infinite knowledge! Everybody must be so intelligent in your time. Oh, it must be divine to come from a most learned civilization of scholars!"
"Yeah...you would think so, but most use the Internet as a source of completely mindless entertainment. Also, much of the 'information' provided by the Internet is unreliable, and people have moved away from reading books. Actually, this guy named Ray Bradbury is going to write a book about this in the 1950s that will predict all of this, so if you want to know more, I'd say read that book and you'll get the idea."
Prior to COVID-19 forcing schools to complete the third trimester of the school year online, the Internet was a seen as a sometimes-useful, sometimes-distracting tool in the classroom; in a very short period of time, it just became every element of my classroom: Assign work via the Internet. Teach lessons via the Internet. Communicate with students and answer questions via the Internet. Build relationships via the Internet. Maintain your personal relationships outside of work via the Internet. School and Internet are one in the same.
Honestly, we are lucky that this pandemic occurred at a time in which the Internet exists. I cannot imagine how much worse conditions would have been had we not had at least some means of educating our youth and keeping in contact with those we love. Yes, there will be some learning deficits when we return to school in the fall, but at least we were able to provide the students with instruction for the last third of the year to help minimize these deficits. I was still able to hold some sessions over Zoom and communicate with students via Zoom, Edmodo, and Showbie. Although the daily interactions with the students were minimized, there were still some very meaningful and heartwarming interactions I had with students that did take place during this last trimester of the year. There were even a few students whom I feel I got to know better through our interactions during the pandemic than I did in the first part of the school year. I was able to continue my Shakespeare Club meetings, and we were able to have a digital performance at the end of the year as a way of culminating a year's work. I was able to make silly little videos to start each class period and really expanded on my knowledge base about different online platforms: regardless of what next year looks like, I can use this in my classroom. I consider all of these positives.
One thing we've all learned, though, is that despite the numerous avenues that the Internet provides us to interact with one another, these interactions will never fully take the place of real face-to-face interaction. This is where I, along with countless teachers, students, and parents alike, mourn for all we have lost this school year. Despite the numerous blessings that have been bestowed upon us through this time (I've visited a number of student homes and spent some quality time with some wonderful families in the last few weeks, which likely would not have happened without the pandemic), it's natural to grieve what could have been. I think about the classroom conversations that could have happened, the tiny interactions with students that would have taken place, the Shakespeare festival, the musical, a proper graduation and end-of-year rituals. I would have loved to have said proper in-person goodbyes to my eighth graders, my loyal students of three years, a class to whom I have always felt particularly close for a myriad of reasons. Two of my colleagues, with whom I am extremely close, retired at the end of the school year, and there was really no chance to properly say goodbye: only a small gathering via the (you guessed it!) Internet.
This was definitely the most anti-climactic end of the school year to date. The year just kind of...ended. I just woke up one morning and then it was done. Nothing else. No proper goodbyes to anybody. A couple of my sixth and seventh grade students logged into Showbie that morning to wish me a happy summer, but nothing else - and, because of the circumstances, we were not required to work in our classrooms for an extra three days following the students' dismissal from school. It was June 12th, and then...nothing. The end of school was more of an abstract idea than a momentous occasion.
I've been spending the last several days doing a thorough cleaning of my classroom. This year, we are not required to take down all of our decorations, so I am using this time just to clean and set up for next year in the best way I can. My fall is going to be insane, so at least I can use this time to cross tasks off of my "to do" list to make life easier for Future Me.
I'm still trying to remain as optimistic about this new way of life as possible. I'm taking everything day by day. I've definitely adjusted to my life as a hermit, and I have become submissive to the idea that this summer will involve even more time spent alone at my home. Do I like this? No. Does anybody? Mostly not. Am I going to ride this out day by day? Yes. Life is going to look different for a while. At least I have more time to read!
Overall, I am thankful for the Internet, though. No more do I only think of it as a form of distraction, but as an essential tool used to keep me connected to my loved one and my community. Would I rather be with them face to face? Of course! However, this is much better than nothing!
Internet, I may not always understand you, and I may not always like you, but I guess I love you, friend. Thanks for existing!
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