As we return to our classrooms — time capsules of a different time — I implore my fellow educators to not dwell on where we should be if this were a “regular school year.” It is understood that things have been, are, and will be different. Students, families and teachers know this, and yet we are at the doorstep of a new adventure.

Theodore Roosevelt reminds us that “comparison is the thief of joy,” and if we continue to reference what students could or should be doing during a normal school year, we may all unduly feel unneeded despair and longingness for a state of being that no longer exists.

The English teacher in me can’t resist urging everyone to use the term “physical distancing” and not “social distancing.” Yes, for the safety and care of everyone, let’s remain physically apart from each other. However, let’s remember to stay close socially. Keep in close contact with students, their families, and your friends and family as well. Remember that the struggles you face and the emotions you have are not your sole burden to bear.

Yes, it has been chaotic. Yes, there are countless things we as teachers need to document, follow up with, chart, report and track. Yes, we are constantly wondering what the next directive might be or waiting to hear the latest news. However, we are not facing this alone.

Things will never really return back to what we before perceived as “normal.” Livelihoods will be different, schools will be different, infrastructure will be different, and relationships may look different, too.

This change gives us a new chance — a fresh start — to recreate, refresh or renew these things from the ground up in the way we want.

Reassess old lessons and pedagogy, retire practices and understandings that are no longer relevant or responsive, collaborate with others to create new ways of teaching and learning, and reevaluate the things that really matter.

Change is inevitable. However, let’s keep two things constant: love and hope. Let’s remember to stay rooted in love — a love that can sustain ourselves and one another. Among all that is shifting around us — among the things we can and cannot control — we can always love, and we can always have hope. And with this love and hope brings opportunity.

The past five months have been a blur, fraught with turmoil, trauma, and total emotional upheaval. There have also been many instances of aloha from folks near and far donating their time, reaching out to others in need, utilizing talents and resources to serve the greater good, standing up against injustice, and creating beautiful art.

These two things — turmoil and aloha — have been starkly juxtaposed. It can be difficult to process and reconcile it all. However, this tension brings us an opportunity to learn and listen more than we talk, all before we act.

We are living our own individual stories, and we see the world in stories as well. As humans, we are natural storytellers. Invite but don’t force these stories and emotions out of students as they, too, have experienced massive change.

As school restarts and looks nothing like it used to, students may again endure trauma. Let the students guide you through these first few weeks — they’ll tell you what they need, and sometimes what they need is not written in your lesson plan. Sometimes what they need the most is to be seen and heard. Listen, love and learn as much as you can from your students — that’s the most powerful thing you can do right now.

Welcome to class and to a brand new school year. You are right on time, and you’re exactly where you need to be.

This is where we are right now, and where we are is the perfect place to start.

Matthew Tom is an English teacher at Robert Louis Steven-son Middle School, and the adviser/creator of two after-school organizations: Stevenson Media Hawaii and the “Tusitala” student publication.