COVID VIGNETTES: Among several stories in part three of this series, meet a bus driver and military veteran who crocheted a different stuffed animal for every one of her 31 riders

Tavia Redmond: ‘Let me tell you about tired’

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 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 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.

“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

together in groups, sharing, it’s gone. Out the window.”

All who returned to in-person learning look forward to recess time, including Redmond. “When we went out on the playground for the first time, and the weather was so nice, it brought me joy to see them getting fresh air, running around, chasing, playing tag and shouting, ‘Who’s it?’”

For many reasons, this year has felt “discombobulated” to a veteran educator who still remembers in sixth grade devouring a Scholastic News story of Marva Collins, a celebrated Chicago educator who became the subject of a TV movie starring Cicely Tyson.

Everything about virtual teaching last fall was unfamiliar—from digital strategies to scanning documents, navigating Google classroom, and mastering a learning platform all at once. “You spend hours trying to figure out every little thing, and you finally start to get in the groove and the next thing pops up,” she said. “I can’t keep up with everything.”

One big issue for Redmond, like other K-3 teachers, has been completing all of the mandated testing while her 31 students were attending online for much of the year.

Under Michigan’s third-grade reading law, K-3 educators must gauge students’ reading levels three times a year and use scores to develop an Individualized Reading Improvement Plan (IRIP) with interventions—which must be tracked and reported—for any who don’t meet a benchmark.

Her district uses an online tool— the NWEA—and a labor-intensive one-on-one assessment known as the DRA, Developmental Reading Assessment. Some results have been inconsistent.

She tried to have the students remain on-screen while taking the online test, but computer glitches and internet issues forced her to let them leave to complete it. Some students she noted reading far below grade level on the DRA somehow scored high on the NWEA.

The discrepancies made it hard to design interventions for the IRIPs and to communicate a plan for parents to work on at home, as required under the law. “I could use information from last year to help me gauge where they were going to go, but it was a tough call,” she said.

One good that came from parents sitting by their children to start remote learning last fall was having some see firsthand their child’s reading struggles. For example, when she asked students to find a word on the screen, some parents were surprised their child couldn’t find it.

“I was able to see some changes in some of the kids whose parents started working with them, because they realized, ‘Whoa, my daughter can’t read like I thought she could.’”

Redmond found a rhythm with all-virtual teaching as she discovered students’ digital attention span. She added breaks and GoNoodle movement and kept her video on at lunch for social time. She started optional Fun Friday to let kids talk or play games such as Simon Says. It was amazing to just watch and listen, she said.

“At times they weren’t talking, but they stayed for the fact they could see one of their classmates coloring and they could color, too. They would go, ‘Look at this picture—look what I did!’ Or they would play and say, ‘Did you see me?’ Or ‘Watch me make this shot!’ Then a girl would maybe start playing with her dolls, and the boys would shout, ‘Lemme go get my game!’”

As students returned, she also discovered the limits of in-person school when a melancholy girl shared a sad story about her puppy. “My instinct is to put my arm around the child, and I had to catch myself and remember I can’t. I can’t hug. It’s sad, really sad.”

Redmond is able to keep going by tapping wellsprings of strength. “I have been praying, and I have been walking. When my thoughts keep going left and right, that is my outlet—just praying and walking, writing in a journal, enjoying nature, because it helps me to get away for a while.”

Gillian Lafrate: Student Teaching With a Twist (or two)

Early in student teaching in January, Gillian Lafrate was operating from an empty classroom with her Warren third graders fully virtual and her host teacher working from home. The Saginaw Valley State University senior elected to come in, given a choice.

“My little sister is in seventh grade. She was learning virtually. My stepmom is a middle school teacher, so she was at home teaching virtually, and I was like, ‘It’s not feasible for me to be in my house to do this.’”

Online teaching ran all day when all students were virtual, with math and reading intervention groups in afternoons. Lafrate eased into teaching all subjects, adding more responsibility each week. She and her host teacher planned together online and reflected continuously.

“She was very available for me, but if I just needed something small, I couldn’t look over my shoulder and say, ‘Hey, I need this.’”

As the district transitioned some children back into the building, the schedule changed three times over several weeks to accommodate various blends of hybrid learning. Elementary educators’ time is divided between virtual and in-person students.

Each time the schedule changed, Lafrate and her host teacher—now physically together—had to reassess and revise plans.

“We take it one day at a time, and we’ll eventually figure out what works and what’s going on. But I have to staple a note on my forehead so every time I look in the mirror I see it. ‘Take a deep breath. It’ll be fine. We’ll figure it out.’”

The good part about student teaching during a pandemic is that the host teacher is learning alongside you, Lafrate added. “Her lessons that work in person might not work online, so she says, ‘Why don’t we try new things?’ So I’ve been able to try things I want to do.”

One of her best experiences leading the class was teaching parts of speech using fill-in-the-blank writing known as Mad Libs. Students offer nouns, adjectives, and adverbs, which are randomly inserted into sentences, creating nonsense meanings and lots of laughs. “They were so excited coming in, saying, ‘Are we going to do grammar now?’”

However, it wouldn’t be student teaching if the highs weren’t contrasted with lows: “Last Friday was terrible, and it had me thinking Am I a terrible teacher? What am I doing wrong?”

The children had begun learning multiplication tables, starting with twos and fives. After a week of lessons, Lafrate reviewed and quizzed, and many in-person students did not pass. After reflection and self-doubt, like all pros, Lafrate tossed scores and started over.

Gillian Lafrate

She’s already dreading leaving the class: “I want to be their teacher every grade for the rest of their life.”

In addition to her host teacher, Lafrate has Aspiring Educators of Michigan (AEM)—MEA’s pre-professional arm—to give her support and guidance. The group helped her to gain leadership skills and directed her to resources she didn’t know existed, Lafrate said.

“I now have a family of future teachers and current teachers that I know I can reach out to if I ever have any questions or need support,” she said. “Being a part of AEM has been such a great experience and I know the connections I made in this program will help me in my future.”