Nobody really knows how Covid-19 is going to play out on our populations, healthcare systems, economies and, of course, our education system.
The situation brings to mind former US secretary of defence Donald Rumsfeld’s brief foray into epistemology in 2002, when he stated that we have “known knowns”, “known unknowns” and “unknown unknowns”. And yet we are not without guides this time: there are ways to sharpen our hearing to this unique moment in time, and suggestions as to how we might shape the next.
Rebecca Solnit wrote a stunning piece in The Guardian recently, in which she compared life in the time of coronavirus to a chrysalis: in a chrysalis, the caterpillar dissolves its body into a kind of living liquid, before reconstituting itself as a butterfly.
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It’s an extraordinary picture from nature, which applies well to our current situation: structures and institutions that seemed so fixed, so monolithic and immovable, have thawed in the most improbable of ways. Things that seemed impossible - the closure of schools for an indefinite period, abandoning exams, the government covering 80 per cent of lost wages - these were beyond remote as possibilities, particularly from our current government in the UK, until very recently.
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And are there parts of what previously seemed “normal” that on reflection seem absurd or even catastrophically bad? Undoubtedly so if we look at things like inequality, environmental damage and our increasingly polarised politics. And for schools, is the old status quo worth rushing back to? It is surely too early to say, but we can seek clarity by asking what this time of containment has restored to us, and what it has robbed us of.
For the most fortunate, this time of school closures has felt like something of a reprieve from the endless demands of the school day. For others, it has only increased demands and pressures, as work and home have mixed to create a stressful brew.
Whatever one’s experience, perhaps going online has also taught us something about our students and their ability to work independently. We may well have been surprised at how they have developed intellectually outwith a classroom. Perhaps we have also been impressed by the formative impact of near-instant feedback that many teachers are able to give online. And then, of course, there are those unknown impacts of cancelling exams. Needless to say, there will be endless learning points from this experience, if we choose to listen.
Even for the most fortunate and content among us, school closures will feel like a deprivation. Schools being closed has robbed us of routine and structure, often making the days feel flaccid, lonely and unproductive.
However, the most biting absence is surely that of human connection. School communities create and sustain the connections that are so vital to human flourishing, and to the process of education. In school, teachers rely on body language, tone of voice and myriad non-verbal cues to develop a trusting and constructive atmosphere with our students. This cannot be replicated effectively online, and it is a small reminder for many of us that relationships with students are why we do the job we do. Developing good relationships is, and has always been, the beating heart of teaching.
Tobias Jones closed a recent article in The Observer by suggesting that our work right now is “to discern the common good and look for enlightenment in this darkness”. Perhaps this discernment will lead both institutions and individuals to devote themselves afresh to those things that make teaching a uniquely special and rewarding vocation.
Kenneth Primrose is an assistant vice-principal at a school in England, who previously worked as a head of religion and philosophy at a school in Scotland