I’m trying to remember my early days as a teacher, conjuring up memories of the “hardships” we like to tell stories about when young teachers complain about the internet being slow or not having cell phone coverage in the building.

Shoot, I remember the days of no air conditioning.  All of us had as many fans as we could jam into our classroom before the kids took flight. I tried to get down to the kitchen and grab ice as much as possible, keeping a big glass of ice water somewhere in the room. 

Dismissal on very hot days was at 2 p.m. The blacktop on the playground was like the surface of a frying pan, and most kids were wilted and inattentive by 10:30 a.m.

But we soldiered on.

I remember the year our hero, a beloved superintendent, made it so that we could all have two window AC units in our classrooms.  They say you remember where you were when great moments in history happened. Well, this was a great moment. 

I remember unlocking my classroom door in early August and feeling that wonderful feeling of cool air and no humidity. I won’t tell you I started wearing a cardigan in August or anything, but my classroom was a happier place from that point on.

Fast forward to a couple of decades later and I am crabbing about my classroom being too hot or too cold and going on about how this “‘state-of-the-art building’ can have so many mechanical issues and the maintenance people shouldn’t have to put up with this stuff and the powers that be should have bought quality HVAC units during construction.”

Nobody listens, but griping makes me feel better sometimes.

Long ago, my teacher friends and I would squirrel away chalkboard cleaner if the custodians accidentally left it in our rooms.  We shared the coveted spray and spoke about it in hushed whispers. 

It was a miracle spray.  Just a couple of squirts on a dust rag and your chalkboard was sparkling and ready for the next barrage of math problems and cursive lessons. The custodians didn’t want us to have our own spray, so we had to resort to criminal behavior.

Now I find it irritating if my classroom Smartboard won’t allow me to click links to educational internet sites I need to show my students. Sometimes, I actually have to walk over to my classroom computer and click the link.

Oh boy.

Then there is the wonder of parent communication. In the old days, if something was serious, you made a phone call. In fact, I used to take repeat offenders to the office and have them call their parents.  

Of course, we had to look up the number on a piece of paper somewhere or rely on the student to remember their parent’s work number.  

For those less serious offenses, we’d actually write a paper note. When I felt particularly fancy, I’d go down to the office and type a note on the electric typewriter we all shared.   

Then, of course, you’d  have to wait for a reply from the parent.

Nowadays, there are a plethora of classroom programs parents can scan a QR code for, joining a thread that is sort of like our own little social media page. Parents can get messages immediately on their phones and can also send messages immediately.

I can message a parent about something in the morning and have an answer within a few minutes – sometimes seconds – avoiding issues or making life much easier for all involved.

This morning, I answered a question about a doctor’s appointment, solved a problem a parent was having, and set up a conference. All of this took me about two minutes.  Three parents contacted me.  Three issues taken care of with a few keystrokes on this thing called a Chromebook.

After I zinged out all of these miracles and puttered around my classroom for a bit, getting ready for the masses, I chuckled a little at how far we’ve come. I mean, I could go on and on about all of the cool stuff we now have; things that make teaching life way better, way easier.

I can’t imagine what it will be like in another 20 years.