Secret Diary of an Irish Teacher: Living the dream in a lockdown nightmare

So, there I am, trying to pin a tail on a donkey – in a blindfold – at a kiddie party. It’s eerily quiet because I’m also in a police interrogation room; children and parents are behind police mirrors, watching me, listening. At some point, I lift my mask to discover an elephant, an elephant in the room, not a donkey after all, now sporting a donkey’s tail instead of a trunk. Silent waves of laughter and derision pound in my ears.

I woke from this dream far too often during lockdown, wishing it could be a normal school day. You see, in a classroom, I know the rules. I’m not perfect but I’m in the right ballpark at least. I can see and hear it in my students’ reactions, in their contributions from the stands. Lockdown teaching was different. I didn’t receive any feedback, beyond the odd emoji. I couldn’t see faces, couldn’t assess moods or feelings.