I was absent yesterday and had a defining moment upon my return today

Yesterday, I was absent. It was unexpected, and I wasn’t feeling well. It was my first day calling out all year, and I’m thankful for that. I’m also grateful to be able to return today. I love teaching and my students. My classroom is my second home.

Despite my relief and gratitude, something happened today that will stay with me for a long time. Or, stated more accurately, it’s what didn’t happen that struck me.

While a couple of students asked me how I was doing, the vibe was overwhelmingly passive. The fact that I was out didn’t seem to be a topic of interest. If I hadn’t mentioned my absence at the start of class, it would have been business as usual.

During first period, when it hit me that my students didn’t particularly mind that I was out, I realized that I could have done a much better job fostering deeper, more personal relationships with them. If I had done a better job at making them feel heard and seen, then perhaps they would have inquired about my absence, checked in on me, or wondered what had happened. The fact that I haven’t been absent all year underscores this fact.

It may seem like I’m yearning for students’ attention. I don’t see it that way. Instead, I think of my students’ responses after my absence as a barometer for the quality of our relations. If their reaction to my return is lackluster and plain — like it was today — it indicates that I have done a poor job of seeing them, caring for them, and making them feel like they matter. In these instances, the classroom is merely a place where students arrive each day and not a place of true being. And I’m only a source of mathematics and not an adult who genuinely cares for them.

I have a vision that is the opposite of what happened today. The day after I’m not in school in the future, I hope to see students approaching me as if I were a member of their family who unexpectedly didn’t show up for a gathering. I want to be approached by students with questions and concerns. I imagine students saying things like, “You good, mister? I missed you.” and “Everything alright? I had to check on you.”

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