It’s been 10 months.

10 months of your little face in a square on a screen or half of your face in front of me.

It’s been 10 months where there has been more asked of you than ever- but you have done much less. 10 months where school probably was not the distraction you needed from a pandemic but instead this bizarre TV show that was hard to pay attention to all the time.

In 10 months, I wanted so much more for you. I wanted to jump through the screen, I wanted to see your bedroom and pet your dog, and ask you if you are okay.

I wanted to know you. Better.

You will be told by people as you finish your education and head off to college that this learning model has failed you in this pandemic. That you have a learning gap, or are less prepared for something than the rest of the pre-COVID teens before you.

They will assume, that because your learning was so different, so detached, and so distant that you didn’t learn at all. And, to be honest, that was true on some days. But on others you were aching to learn. You were a sponge before me, waiting to share a new poem, or book, or story.

You see, they don’t know you. They don’t see you like I see you. They don’t know that you have grown more than ever. You have said things and you have done things and you have advocated for yourself, and you have told me about your mental health and the number of hours you work- and how much you have missed your friends.

You have missed something, many things. But fallen behind? No.

Now, have you done your best this year? Some of you have. Some have thrived in an environment where they could make their own schedule, make a snack while we read Romeo and Juliet aloud, wear air pods and do a painting for Art class during a history lecture.

But some of you needed that social piece and mourned it all year long. You lost your sparkle (sometimes the same days I did) and even if I knew you well, I knew you weren’t the same student you were in previous years. You got things done. But some days, it was just checking things off a list.

But, guys, do you remember the music I played and sang to you from behind my mask, the stupid attendance questions I asked, the double waved Zoom goodbye?

That wasn’t all for you, just so you know. That was for me. Because in all the worry of a teacher’s brain this year- all the ways we could convince ourselves that we are falling flat on our face, all the ways we could stress about standards, and state testing, and learning targets, and curriculum gaps. In all of that— we still had you. And sometimes our chat about ice cream flavors, or your favorite lake, or the article of clothing you can’t live without (hoodies won, almost unanimously)—It made this weird TV show I’ve been producing all year feel the same as classrooms before.

You can probably name a million ways the world has fallen behind the past year or so. I can name a million ways that you (yes, you!) have gotten ahead.

I can name so many ways you are more creative, more intuitive, more aware of your mental health and personal limits. More ways that you have learned to be your own advocate through the chat, through email, through a masked conversation in the hall.

And yes, I have given you all too many breaks. I have given too many “okays” on late work. Too many, “Just get it to me when you have it finished.” I have seen that the hard lessons you have to learn are ones you encountered every day of this school year. My tough love wasn’t going to help you get there. Things were already tough enough.

But I have also seen that the fabric of teenage life is thicker and more tangled than ever before. You have had to work hard to maintain friendships, keep in touch, make social activities for yourself. All things that school used to kind of do for you.

I’m sorry about that part. I’m sorry that at the time you needed it most, your social needs were not able to be met. I’m sorry that texting and social media were not enough. You should have had a Homecoming dance. A pep rally. A jam packed football game.

But please remember- you are rising out of this as someone else. We all are.

You are stronger. You are more yourself than you have ever been. You are ready for life in ways you never could have been before.

You have not fallen behind, I would never let that happen. You have trudged on, sometimes holding me on your back as you made your way through this. You have been able to do so many things no one could have ever expected of you.

So when, someday, some older person tries to talk about how teens fared during the global pandemic—Speak up. Tell your story. Say, “I was forever changed by having school that way. In the end, I think it made me better.”

You are not behind. You didn’t fall there, you weren’t placed there, you’ll never stay there. You are right where you needed to be in this crucial and unique time of your life.

It’s been 10 months. 10 months that felt like 10 years. But I would never choose to spend those 10 months with another group of kids. Thanks for keeping me going on the hardest of days. Thanks for the day you said, “How are you doing?”

And, most of all, thanks for not letting me fall behind either. There were days I almost did.

With love and a cheesy two handed wave,

Mrs. Gallagher ❤️