This school year hasn’t been easy for educators, parents, students, administrators—for anyone, really.

As a kindergarten teacher, I feel like God has been teaching me flexibility and resilience,  and the importance of showing grace to others and to myself.

At our school, we started the year in-person with hopes of staying in the classrooms as long as we could. We held on until mid-November, when we transitioned to remote learning. For three long months, all lessons were online.

And then, February, we finally came together in the classroom again. Our schedule was different and our protocol had changed. One big difference was mask-wearing—in the fall, we were allowed to wear face shields to teach. Now, masks covered our smiles at all times.

Still, as students filled our classrooms again, our smiles reached our eyes.

We were so thankful to be in-person again.

A few days into February, I took off my mask to drink some water. When I put my water bottle down, one of my students stared at me with wide eyes.

“Mrs. W!” he said.

“What is it?”

“I didn’t know you still had a face under there! I almost forgot what you looked like.”

“Oh!” I laughed and gave him a big smile before sliding my mask back over my nose. “Don’t worry… I still have a face!”

So many different types of masks are available. Disposable masks and reusable ones. Masks with adorable floral prints and masks in plain colors. Masks that tie behind the head and masks that loop around the ears. Masks of countless fabrics, styles, and patterns.

At school, I often compliment the students’ creative mask styles. At the grocery store, I find myself observing different masks as I wait in line for check-out.

But am I taking the time to remember those masks have faces underneath? 

And those faces belong to real people with real stories and real struggles and real emotions. To people who might be similar to us or perhaps very different. To people created in the image of God.

My kindergarten student’s comment about my maskless face makes for a funny memory to share. But I don’t want to miss this lesson in empathy.

In Romans 12:15, Paul writes, “Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.”

With masks covering faces, we don’t always see the joy and the tears. At least not as easily as we could without the masks. But maybe we can take this opportunity to look closer. To look beyond the face. To ask how people are really doing. To learn people’s stories. To rejoice with those who rejoice, and mourn with those who mourn.

I think an extra dose of empathy would do our world a lot of good right now.

And never forget… you are onederfully created.

Love,
Becca