Erin Wall teaches AP English at Woodland Hills High School, where she has worked since 2005.

The sounds of our schools are silenced. The tapping of pencil marks, the screeching of desks, the ticking of the clock, the chiming of the bell, the laughter and chatter of voices that flow through the hallways as water — they have all been dammed in order to halt a flood.

Our schools closed on March 13 to safeguard students, teachers, administrators and families. This week Gov. Wolf mandated that all Pennsylvania K-12 schools remain closed for this school year. We all must adapt, embrace and follow the new facets and responsibilities of this public health emergency. In these moments of chaos, it is important to reflect and acknowledge our shared emotions. Roundtable discussions are now replaced with our computer cameras.

Today, we are united with the clicking of keyboards and the audio of our virtual meetings. We engage with a screen that divides yet unites us as we navigate the waters of a turbulent world. Those screens ultimately serve as life preservers to link student to student and students to teachers and principals.

We are your teachers, your advocates, your second family seven hours a day, nine months a year. We collectively miss your idiosyncrasies. We miss your asking for a pencil but also asking if we can sharpen it. We miss your excited hand waving in the air to vocalize the pride of your knowledge and your narrative. We miss the excitement of hearing your plan for sporting events, musical events, prom, and graduation. We miss you standing outside our door when we try to take 15 minutes to eat our lunches. We miss opening the door and giving you a snack where you would pull up a chair to tell us what is on your mind.

We miss your triumphs both small and large. We miss penning a hundred letters of recommendation to tell the world who you are.

We are blessed to live in a time where we can still connect with you, where cables transmit the information, your words, and your messages to us in real time. However, it will never replace the interaction, the discussion, the moments that capture the educational institution.

Now we are called upon to rearrange our routine so humanity can continue to raise their hands in triumph, pen their word of gratitude for those on the front line, and give hope to those who struggle. We are accustomed to a ritual and routine that guides us.

And to the class of 2020, the leaders of clear vision, you must now accept that cultural rituals might be cancelled. Prom dresses hang in closets and graduation announcements are left unpenned. To you our seniors, we wish and we hope that some day you will be granted those rites of passage.

We, your teachers, were excited to share in the moments and capture snapshots of your smiles. Know that when the flood waters subside, we will have our cameras ready and our hands eager to help you fit your graduation caps.

Water always finds a way to circumvent barriers. And you, our students, will serve as a ship to others on this stormy sea. You will guide the next generation to the nature of adaptation.

In the meantime, know that your teachers, principals, support staff, coaches, aides and school nurses will sail right alongside you. We are proud of you. We miss you.

We cannot wait for the screeching of desks, the grind of the pencil sharpener, and the chime of the next bell.

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