I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of hearing the phrase “the new normal”. It seems that this has replaced “unprecedented” as the current theme, and it’s tiresome. There’s nothing normal about the new things happening, and there’s little about this new state of being that I want to become normal.

Yes, maybe we’ve learned a thing or two about how to upload files or to take ourselves off mute in a video call, but there are few things I can say that have improved about my life or work thanks to this wretched virus.

Coronavirus: Your complete guide to September’s back-to-school plan

Reopening schools: How are other countries doing it?

Opinion: ‘Where’s Plan B in the government’s reopening plans?

I suspect this view will only be confirmed when schools try to welcome back all their pupils in September. There will certainly be much about it that is new, but there will daily reminders of how different it is from schooling in recent years. And I’m not just thinking about the constant handwashing, although that itself is likely to have a substantial impact on every school day, not to mention adding a significant cost to school budgets.

Coronavirus: The challenge of reopening schools

The differences will be apparent from the first day, before the children even return.

Inset days, which were once a chance to reacquaint ourselves with old friends and catch up on the events of the summer, will be dampened by the need to stand well apart and reflect on the limitations of our six-week break. The shared buffet lunch will be a thing of the past, as everyone is forced to eye each other with suspicion.

The challenges will only become greater when children come back. The hubbub of the playground on the first day has always felt somewhat surreal to me. New families mingling with old, excitement about new teachers and new pencil cases, combined with the exchanges of hugs between friends.

But all that is to be replaced by queues, timed slots, and an unaccompanied entrance into the classroom.

Transition activities, like stay-and-play mornings, parent breakfast meetings and the after-school opportunity to come and rifle through children’s trays, will be lost. The chance to admire their work, and re-find the lost hair band will be replaced instead with email communications and a video call at best.

Lost moments of glory

The same will be true of that staple of primary-school celebrations: the parent assembly. There can’t be many teachers who haven’t cursed the burden of preparing a showcase performance for parents each term. But, while we might have wished that we could scrap them, few would actually want to deprive parents of that opportunity to see their child’s first speaking role or moment of glory.

The Christmas nativity must also be under threat. How many potential Marys and Josephs won’t get their chance to hurl the baby Jesus into the manger at the parish church this year? How many grandparents have waited longingly to come and see their grandchild play the part of a wise man or narrate the journey to Bethlehem, only to have that opportunity denied them?

And, to make it all worse, even a video performance will lack the joy of communal singing, thanks to the limit of no more than 15 pupils singing together.

Schools are built on community, and not much brings the community together more than hammering out If I Had a Hammer, or its modern equivalent, at times like this.

Take away all this - and communal assemblies and playtimes - and it’s like tearing the heart out of a primary school. 

As teachers, we’ve a job on our hands to master some sort of transplant, so that our pupils still feel part of their community. It won’t be normality, but I guess at least - as the song goes - we’re all in this together.

Michael Tidd is headteacher at East Preston Junior School in West Sussex. He tweets @MichaelT1979