To the one sitting on the floor next to her kids as they learn how to power up laptops with big headphones over their little ears; who’s watching as her children figure out how to mute their microphones and set up fancy backgrounds during group chats…

To the one wondering if she’s submitted all the forms, printed all the records and organized all the schedules…

To the one juggling dozens of logins and email addresses and passwords; who’s troubleshooting computer glitches while refereeing snack times and bathroom breaks alongside frantic calls for help to find a button on the keyboard or a notebook in a backpack while tending to a dog eating socks in the hallway from an overflowing laundry basket next to a sink full of dirty breakfast dishes…

To the one who feels an overwhelming sense of gratitude for teachers who dance and sing on computer screens projected into living rooms; yet at the same time holds space for grief and worry that her kids are going to fall behind.

To the one with patience stretched too thin; who has yelled too much and cried too long in the bathroom over the stress and struggle of doing it all.

To the one who feels like the weight of the world is on her shoulders; who’s wondering how she’s going to do it today, tomorrow and for an entire year…

I am with you.

Let’s remember this: Learning doesn’t only happen in a classroom. The greatest lesson our kids will learn this year may not be out of a text book. It may not even be anything reflected in test scores.

Perhaps the greatest lesson will be one of patience and grace.

May our kids learn by our example that connectedness can happen while we’re apart. May they channel our grit and perseverance when things are hard. Most importantly, may our kids come to understand that nothing — not even a global pandemic — can limit their creativity and ability to learn.

PS: Every single teacher deserves a raise.

This post was originally published on www.ShelleySkuster.com.