COVID
What it’s Like
Vignettes
Tavia Redmond: ‘Let me tell you about tired’ district students had been learning remotely since last spring. When some returned to the building for the first time that day, Redmond entered a new phase of teaching— hybrid—and discovered new levels of exhaustion. “Let me tell you about tired. I came home from work and went to bed, woke and ate something at 6:30, took a shower and went back to bed, and woke at 6 in the morning.” It’s a big task to get the 12 youngsters in the room to understand why they can’t do so many simple things they used to enjoy, like sharing a box of markers or holding hands with a friend.
In her educator origin story, Tavia Redmond receives her first vision of the “nurturing, extravagant, and powerful” superhero she hopes to become from her first-grade teacher. “I loved her. I loved the way she dressed. I loved the way she carried herself. She was the one who I said, ‘I want to be just like her.’” Love ultimately led MEA member Tavia Redmond to don her teacher’s cape 28 years ago. Since then, she’s faced tough challenges with grit and patience— mostly in her hometown of Romulus, the Downriver suburb that is home to Detroit Metropolitan Airport. But nothing compares to this year’s struggles, she says. “This right here is a whole new ballgame.” Redmond never envisioned being asked to teach a split class in which half of her third graders are physically present in the room—masked
18 APR–MAY 2021
and unable to share supplies or mingle with friends—and half are watching from home through a computer screen. It’s hard to know even where to stand so both in-person and remote kids can see and hear her speaking through the mask. She’s taken to carrying the Chromebook with her. “It is very difficult, and I don’t think people who are not in the classroom see what we’re going through.” Until March 10—the one-year anniversary of Michigan’s first confirmed COVID-19 case—all
“They get that they have to wear a mask, but they want to do those things they’ve always done in school, and I have to say ‘No, you can’t do that. You can’t share your markers. No, you can’t sit together and color. You can’t give her your yogurt that you don’t want.’ “I snapped at a girl yesterday because she had some grapes and another student said, ‘Oh let me have one,’ and she went to give her a grape, and I said ‘No!’ And then I was like, ‘I am so sorry. Please forgive me.’ And with all the kids on virtual saying, ‘What’s going on?’ I said, ‘Honey, you can’t. Please, just don’t.’” It breaks Redmond’s heart, she says. “Those things we were taught about cooperative learning, working
