For the first time in months I saw most of my students on campus yesterday. Well, saw them drive through campus, peeking at me from over masks as we passed out textbooks, ACMA t-shirts, and hundreds of pounds of clay. As an art school the drawing and painting materials, sculpture tools, instruments and sheet music occupied as much of the day as calculus, biology, or French textbooks, and sometimes inspired a slightly different reaction from the students as we reached over the (overly cute) dogs and gave them the stack as they sat in the back seat.
It was so good to see so many students and parents, and even though it was really only seeing their eyes and the top of their noses, it was enough to remind all of us just how important a part of our lives the people are who make up our little art school, our ACMA family.
For hours an intrepid group of classified staff and a handful of teachers, counselors, and I dashed from cars to tables to pick up supplies, did our best to solve problems, and reveled in the opportunity to make brief, but meaningful connections.
I don’t know about everyone else, but I ended the day tired. A good tired.
This distance learning model, as safe and sensible as it is —and right now I know it’s the right choice— still feels so strange. I love talking with students and staff. I miss full hallways and impromptu conversations. Being able to visit classrooms is a highlight for me every day, at least it was when I could slip in through an open door and sit down next to a student studying Spanish, or dissecting a pig, or painting a still life.
How much I missed that was brought home yesterday as I saw face after face (well, mask after mask) drive by. I could see the smiles in those eyes, and I hope they could see the smile in mine.
And while my legs are sore and I can feel it in my back, I can honestly say that yesterday was more than just me and our school team distributing supplies; it was all of us getting something precious back in return, connection, hope, and a touch of joy.