Remote teaching has been a challenge to say the least, and I have been home for an entire year. Truly unbelievable. 

I remember the last day I worked. After teaching all my intervention groups, I headed over to the lunch court to oversee the food distribution by Feeding America. It was a great day which ended with happy faces lugging home their treasures.

Then, the world closed down in vast uncertainty and fear as the pandemic unfurled. Teachers just like me, had to figure out how to teach virtually by watching series of videos and just doing it. It was so very overwhelming then and continues to be as I teach to little circles on a screen most days. 

Some students actively engage with cameras and microphones on. I look forward to seeing them and am thankful that they want to participate despite all the distractions of fire trucks going by, babies crying, guinea pig show and tells, family conversations, and an occasional dad snoring. For now, it is truly the only way I can help them.

This window into their worlds has been truly eye opening.  

Most of my students live in well kept homes with families doing their best to manage it all, but some open cameras reveal the water stains on the ceilings, or the paint peeling from the walls. 

One of my students has a room that is dark gray and white.  At first I could not figure out if it was painted white over gray or gray over white. I thought perhaps someone had done it on purpose and then had begun peeling it away to create random shapes on the walls. In my imagination, I thought it would be a great backdrop for a comic book wall. I could see the gray pushing into the light while the characters fought back the darkness in dramatic fashion as if to say, “Wham! Bam! Watch Out! If you don’t fight the darkness it will steal the light!” I could see vibrant colors added for emphasis and chubby faced heroes retaliating in an effort to keep their joy.

All of this plays out every time I see this nine year old in her room as she tries to keep up with my lessons while her internet fails repeatedly. Recently, she said she had been sad for days because they had to put the family dog to sleep, as if there wasn’t enough to handle already. And just like that, the darkness edges ever closer as if to whisper…”You cannot hide!”

I wish I could be a character added to her walls so that I could jump in with my shield and add a layer of protection in her fragile world. I can see that encroaching gray roll back like clouds in retreat. I would give her a much needed hug and remind her she is not alone. I would tell her it will be alright, but that is a wish I cannot make happen. 

It makes me think of how in the great expanse of time this poorly painted room is perhaps a momentary affliction, a bad paint scheme gone worse. Is this pandemic a momentary affliction also? In the timeline of eternity past and future, this is likely a blink in time, although I have spent more time complaining than I’d like to admit. What I see everyday is truly transient as plans are cancelled or changed from one minute to the next. Nothing seems to be left as normal. 

But God… nothing is unseen or unheard by Him. He sees me. He sees you. He sees her. While all of the devastating events swirl around us, I am reminded that none of this surprised God. He knows my struggles and He knows how to extend my reach so that I can spread light.

Even though I cannot see how these circumstances will turn out as we go back to school in person, I can peel back the heavy layers of gray and let in the light one choice at a time. The darkness will not win. I may be the only light some of my students see each day. I pray that God will use me to brighten their lives one Google Meet at a time.