It takes most of the morning to read emails, answer emails, the start contacting parents and kids. Finally, at about 11:30, the students start popping into my Zoom space. One boy, originally from Burundi, makes his debut in my online classroom.
“Teacher, I can’t get on Class Dojo, can you help me?” Class Dojo is our communication and incentive platform. It has been integral to my communications blitz, as I can message everyone at once, dole out points, post announcements, etc.
So I spend a good half hour giving him tech advice, codes, and all the while we chat about various family members popping into view, as he is walking around the house with a cell phone camera pointed at his kinetic face. “Whose baby?” I ask about a little cherub appearing on camera, trying to grab his phone. “My sister’s,” he replies. “Oh, so your nephew?” “She’s a girl!” He says. “Oops, sorry, I’m not good at identifying babies,” I explain, embarrassed. “So you are her uncle.” I still can’t wrap my mind around an 8 year old uncle.
So I send him off to get set up on a computer in his dining room, with his sister’s help, wave to all his family members, and go on to the next student, also new to the Zoomisphere.
This little girl is so sensitive. She was very sad when she heard school was closed for the remainder of the year. I’ve been trying to get her online for 2 weeks now, coaxing her with encouraging messages, and begging her Mom to install Zoom. Today she messaged me she was coming on.
Naturally, it is not without the usual problems. Her audio doesn’t work. I spend 20 minutes miming “use your mic”, until I realized it wasn’t going to happen. Finally, I call her Mom’s phone and we use that to speak. There is a tinny echo nearly the whole time. I ask how she has been, and tell her how much I miss her. She smiles shyly. I tell her I am sorry, I know how hard it is. Then I proceed to show her where to find all our learning tools, and explain how to use them.
I try to be enthusiastic, but I can see I might be losing her. So I go to a website with bilingual stories, and read to her from Rapunzel. I stop halfway through and ask her questions about events so far. She perks up a bit and replies. She promises to get online more often to practice, and that she will finish reading Rapunzel. “In this version,” I explain, “the Prince isn’t the only hero. Rapunzel is a hero too, because they work together.” And off she goes. I hope she tries to make a go of it.
In the last part of the afternoon, the Burundi boy, and another 8 year old–my little “chistoso” kiddo– are both on with me again. They are too excited to listen when I talk about practice. They ask each other questions about what’s happening in each other’s house, make vows to play together when they see each other again, all while a rooster crows loudly in the background. I can’t help but chuckle. I can’t get a word in edgewise.
“One last thing guys, before I get off. I want you guys to work on your skills. But most of all I want you guys to have fun. So now, pinky swear in the air!” I hold up a pinky and wait to see if they do. “Repeat after me: I promise…to go outside my front door…stretch my arms to the sun…(I show them)…and say, AAAAAHHHH! I want you guys to get some fresh air. I know your parents worry, but you gotta get outside a little, not around people, but just out for a little bit. And I will see you soon. And get ready, because we are going to talk about learning”.
Right now,” I finish, “go be kids and play.”
And that was our day.
I Teach English Language Learners 
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