There's a foam sword in our school supplies bag

 There's a foam sword in our school supplies bag; one teacher was 30 minutes late to her own class; and breakout rooms are awkward: or: thoughts about stuff that happened in the past week of online schooling, in no particular order. 

I'll save the foam sword for the end because I have THOUGHTS. So let's talk about the other two items first. 

So, Tuesday after Labor Day, my 15 year old was supposed to have chemistry, starting at 8:50. I usually don't check on her, because she's pretty responsible. I also usually can't hear her when she's in class, unlike her 11 year old sister, who is, well, loud. So I'm sitting at my own computer, working, when I get a text from said 15 year old, who should be upstairs, in her room, learning. 

"I've been waiting for half an hour and my teacher hasn't started the meeting. Should I email her?"

After checking that she was signed into the right meeting, I advised her to go ahead and email her teacher--which is exactly when the teacher actually started her Zoom, 30 minutes late. According to my kid, there was no explanation about the during the class. I gotta say, I'm a little disappointed it didn't turn into the glorious disaster described in this Twitter thread when a second-grade teacher kicked herself off her own Zoom.  Guess high school students are too mature or too bored for that.

Speaking of, my 15 yo's government teacher has kicked himself out of his class Zoom repeatedly, it turns out. Apparently, he's even shut down his computer by accident at least once. My daughter thinks it's because her teachers are older and don't have a good handle on the technology they have to use. I think it's because the contract the teachers' union and the district signed only allowed for one week of paid hands-on training. Otherwise, it was up to the teachers to spend their summer familiarizing themselves with the platforms they would have to use and restructuring their classes--during a time when many of them were home with their own kids. 

Meanwhile, my 15 yo was complaining that it's impossible to make friends at a new school while learning online. I suggested that she could make friends when she's assigned work on projects with other kids. And that's when both she and her sister informed me that "breakout rooms are awkward." Apparently, without the teacher's presence, no one wants to start a conversation and awkward silence reigns until someone breaks down and pipes up. My 11 yo informed me that she often is the one who does that. I'm not surprised. 

Finally, let's get back to the foam sword. It was handed to me by a school staff member when I went to pick up school supplies for my 11 yo. She goes to a Title 1 school--meaning high poverty--so all students always receive the supplies they need for free. (This is a nice change from her previous school, where I think our family spent about $100 on supplies for her classroom every year. But I digress.) We also received a canvas tote full of workbooks and paperbacks that she will use during the rest of the year. 

The sword, it turns out, was for fencing, which she is going to do via an Zoom once a week, during the school day. And that is making me very, very conflicted. On the one hand, she also has two hours of PE a week so with fencing, she'll get way more than the 20 minutes of PE per day that California mandates. 

On the other, all 5th graders don't have fencing. It's just her class. She is in what's called the Seminar program, which brings together kids that scored at the very top of her district's gifted and talented test. That's why we are at this Title 1 school. Not all school have Seminar and this particular program is wonderful. But it's only offered for  about 60 kids in third through fifth grade. And I can't help feeling that the other 140 kids in her school are missing out. 

I keep wondering what would happen if we treated all kids like we treat these "gifted" kids. What would happen if we tailored instruction to where students actually are, rather than forcing on them specific standards because of their age? What would happen if we trained all teachers to teach like Seminar educators? What would happen if all kids could take fencing and learn cursive from a Harry Potter themed workbook? 

Just something to think about.