Phase 2: Ensuring students ‘belong’ from 7000 miles away.

It all began with a 15-day plan: a year group would return per day. First was Year 13 and from there one year group per day until we were all back together in two weeks. That was 6 weeks ago.

Much has changed since that first day back: the noise levels are up, school uniforms have returned to their disheveled state and the corridors are filled with life! Then again, much is still the same: social distancing remains a constant, PE lessons are still restricted to individual exercise, and the pool is still empty. I grow increasingly hopeful by the day that we may soon return to team sport. My daily routine has evolved to include a conversation asking ‘any news?’ to the Chinese staff, a knowing head-shake will follow.

But things are changing, slowly. And the ‘hope’ we once held is an ever-nearing horizon.

In Suzhou there hasn’t been a new case in 6 weeks, mask restrictions are easing and there was even some pushing on the metro today. This was all evident on a recent journey to my local climbing wall - again, a sign that things are moving in the right direction. The local Park Run has started back up, gyms, play parks and leisure centres are now open: the “ooos” and “ahhhs” of our Chinese climbing companions ring out in joy and excitement at this shared experience: the shared success on the wall and the joint momentary fear and commiseration at a heavy fall from it.

But not all things are moving. For us, as an International School, we still have a number of students very much not moving; dislocated in their home countries, unable to return.

Speaking with my Year 9 US students in their online yoga lesson on Monday, the sense of distance really struck home. I asked, as I usually do, how they were, and if there was anything worrying them at the moment? The response ‘what do we do if we can’t get back?’ echoed poignantly down the line.

‘What DO we do if you can’t come back?’

I thought.

As I sat there telling the pair not to worry, and that it would all work out, I wasn't sure I believed it myself.

What might the near future hold for these students and their education?

At such a crucial time for them, approaching their GCSEs, this is not a time to be stranded 7000 miles away on a 13-hour time difference.

The truth is that no one knows when they may be able to return, but that’s not the point, nor is it a constructive approach - it is quite literally out of our hands. As someone who grounds their practice in stoic philosophy, I try to focus on what can be controlled. In that moment, the only thing I could control was their connection to their school and the positivity of the conversation. I had the opportunity to talk about the poor weather, the earthquake drill, and how humid it was. This was done to remind them of their school and how, although life continues, they aren’t missing too much. In later moments, I had the opportunity of a quick dash around school to chase up on questions they had, that they could not find instant answers to.

My husband and I have had MANY a conversation about teaching online; he is the Head of English at DCSZ, so naturally we love to chat about work. In our musings, we have come to the conclusion that distance learning/online teaching isn’t actually about the content of the lesson. It goes beyond that, just as school should. The students don’t need the best lessons, they just want to feel a part of something.

They want to belong, just as they do in school.

As the conversation digressed away from PE, yoga, flexibility and 4k times, I had a moment of concern, an urge to focus back on the purpose of the call: the ‘lesson’. Thankfully I got in ‘the gap’ and corrected myself.

Which comes first: student needs or teacher needs?

In a system which is aiming to provide online learning, the day-to-day support networks of tutors tend to get lost - the friendly check-ins when a student arrives early to lesson, the opportunity for a quiet chat in the corridor. Every teacher has their priority in online learning, and that is to get their lesson done, the content finished. It is no one’s fault, and I am as guilty as anyone, but the connection is lost when our emphasis is on ploughing through content.

Instead, we must place the connection at the top of our priority list.

What do these students need right now? They need to feel cared about, listened to, they need to feel and know that they haven’t been forgotten, that I care about their wellbeing, that school cares about them and their lives, exactly as we would if they were physically here.

As we chatted through their various concerns, I supported where I could. We chatted about strategies to keep up, how to focus and prioritise the things that matter- their GCSE option choices for one. It was then that I realised we can provide all of the ‘online’ teaching we want, all the assignments, tasks and video lessons, but what do these students currently miss? School! Not the learning bit, but the sense of belonging, the bits you remember when you’re older, the shared jokes, shared mistakes, shared stress.

These students are 7000 miles away, working their way through their lessons without their friends to collaborate with, commiserate with and to share in their stress. They face exams where they can’t leave the hall to ask their friends what they put for question 6, or saying ‘I don’t even remember learning about Q9, do you?’

Education and teaching goes far beyond the what, it’s much more than the content, and should seek to place connection and conversation ahead of the syllabus, particularly at the moment.

There have been many times when the question of an ‘online school’ has been suggested as the ‘future’ of education, but that makes the assumption that learning is reliant upon tasks. Humans are, by nature, social creatures - social interaction matters just as much as the law of mass action in Science.

Like our Chinese climbing friends, it is the shared physical belonging, in trying together, failing together and sharing each other’s success which create a sense of community.