Is my mic working? Can you all hear me?

Mr. Podlesney

10.9.20

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If you had asked me last February how I felt about Zoom, I would have assumed you meant the 1970’s educational television program on PBS.  And my answer would’ve been, it’s not my favorite but hey I can still learn stuff from it.  But my answer regarding teaching in a virtual setting using the Zoom software is probably similar - it's not my favorite but hey I can still learn stuff from it.  As I reflect on the last couple of weeks, I have been re-examining my PBS-centric childhood.  During my formative years, I watched a lot of TV at my grandparents’ house.  My grandmother tried to make sure I was at least learning something so programs like “Mr. Wizard’s World,” “Sesame Street,” “Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood,” and “Zoom” were, in a way, a primary source of my education.

As much as I want to complain about teaching in a virtual setting, I learned a great deal in the same way.  Sure, we didn’t have computers or cell phones back then, but Mr. Wizard beamed onto a screen every morning before I caught the school bus to teach me about convection currents, liquid nitrogen, and even show me my first computer.  I learned virtually.  Times have changed, but the desire to be engaged in science from afar really hasn’t.  Of course, the struggle I have is that I don’t have a cool nickname like Mr. Wizard, I can’t sing like Mr. Rogers, and I don’t think I should be using Sesame Street-like puppets with high school students.  The biggest concern I had before starting this year was - how do I engage students?  

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If you’ve ever been in my classroom, you know that engagement is one of my strengths.  I will jump on tables, dance, tell jokes, debate you until I’m blue in the face - in short, I will do whatever it takes to get you to love biology, or at least the 50 minutes you have to spend in my classroom.  But how do I do that when you’re miles away with endless distractions at your fingertips?  How do I talk to you when you mute yourself and there is a delay of a few seconds?  Is my mic working?  Can you all hear me?  So many of the teaching strategies I’ve developed over the years are dependent on seeing you and the physical nature of a classroom.  Not on repeatedly saying “Ok, I’m going to share my screen with you now.”

The night before school started this year, I was more nervous than I have ever been before the start of a school year.  I didn’t sleep.  And I sweat so much before 1st period that I had to change my shirt.  As I logged onto my first Zoom, I watched 14, then 15, then 21 students populate my waiting room.  At 7:45 with the 24th student now waiting, I opened my virtual classroom.  I greeted kids as they entered.  I tried “grid mode” to be able to see all their faces.  I had to hit the arrow to go to the second page to see everyone.  I gave a great big hello.  It was met with a few smiles and abject silence.  I was ready for a 3rd shirt.  I asked how their summers were, if they were excited for school, I tried self-deprecating jokes about technology problems I had.  Some took the time to unmute themselves and laugh.  I appreciated that.  By the time I finished my last Zoom of the day, I reflected on what I’d learned -- that I was going to have to do better in the future because Day 1 was a failure.  

Almost at Day 30 and while I’d still give myself a low C average, I am getting better.  And so are my students.  We’re adapting.  We share laughs now.  I am starting to find things to joke about with them.  I’m learning who they are - in breakout rooms, in questions they ask as everyone else logs off Zoom for the day, even in emails.  The most important lesson I have been taught by the STEM community - students, colleagues, administration, staff - is how to be resilient.  Fail, adapt, try again.  Fall down, dust myself off, pick myself up again.  Each day is a new chance to get better.  What makes us the #1 school in the state is our focus on resilience - and giving each other the chance to fail and learn from it.  I want so badly to be a good virtual teacher.  I want my students to feel like our Zoom room is a community where they are safe and valued for who they each individually are.  I don’t want a cheapened experience for them.  None of us do.  Our faculty meetings sound like a support group.  We talk about what works and what doesn’t.  Mrs. Schray teaches me about Zoom polling.  Mrs. Dunn tells me it’s okay to cry.  Mr. Sheehan gently reminds me the meeting is over.  It’s almost like I’m a first-year teacher again, except this time we all are.  

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I’m nervous on the weekends now.  Not something you’d expect from a teacher in his 9th year who spent almost 7 years as a lawyer before teaching.  The nerves are unexpected but not unwelcome. I know I’m nervous because I want to do better tomorrow morning.  I need to create a better community and find better activities.  There was a reason millions of kids tuned in to watch “Mr. Wizard’s World.”   A reason why, to this day, I know what liquid nitrogen does to a ball even if I’ve never actually used it myself.  I’ve failed.  I’m adapting.  And tomorrow I’ll try again.  The need to be resilient is something teachers and students share as we navigate the uncharted waters of online learning. 

It will get better.