When I start writing a blog, I often write key bullet points of what I want to say. From there, I simply add in my thoughts to flesh out the story. This blog started in October of 2020. Thirty minutes ago, it was just bullet points. It's taken a bit of time to heal from how I (and how many of you) felt last October. I'm guessing we aren't completely there yet. But that's okay.
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October 26, 2020
I'm sick of the pandemic. I'm tired of working from home, from the screams of my children frustrated with their zoom classrooms, and from having seemingly zero purpose. I miss being at school with our staff and students. I don't think this is sustainable but while I'm sick of the pandemic, I don't want to get sick from the pandemic. And that's the dilemma.
For most of the pandemic thus far, we've had all four of our children at home. All four children have special needs, although each in very different ways. Let me be blunt about online schooling: while it doesn't work for a lot of students, it really really doesn't work for a lot of students with special needs.
There are some good point coming out of the last six months of the pandemic. My sons can now work the TV remote better than my wife or I can at this point. All four of our kids have figured out how to access YouTube on their iPad despite not having the app downloaded (hint: they go through Safari - pretty crafty of them). I haven't spent a penny on dry cleaning. I haven't spent a penny on dress shirts for work, although I'll eventually need to replace my entire wardrobe due to my current stationary-type life. My sons and daughter can sing each other to sleep through the hole in the wall they've busted open between their rooms. But for the most part, my days feel really empty.
My wife is unable to safely go visit her father in San Diego.
Our daughters' special needs camp, which provides necessary respite for our family, is closed and will be for another 12 months.
At work, I'm finding myself in a constant bind between how to best support our students, staff, and community, which often begets three different outcomes.
The level of uneasiness about what the next few weeks and months will bring.
I have a palpable fear of students wanting to be back at school and then realizing that "new school" is nothing like "old school" - it's just distance learning in a classroom.
I know that everyone is suffering in different ways right now. We are all feeling a sense of loss. I recognize that a loss of the upcoming spirit game for a 13 year old might feel less important in life's journey than the loss of prom for a 17 year old high school senior to many, but to that 13 year old, it's just as significant if not more. It's hard to compare one's loss to another's. Similar to grief, everyone gets to experience these emotions as they need to. It's what's real to them.
It's weird. I thought working at home would be less stressful, but it's actually significantly more. I have a true appreciation for my staff in what they're doing to make distance learning successful while still hating the fact we can't magically return to pre-pandemic days. I hate being an online principal. I hate how I sometimes have to raise my voice at home to speak over the constant "kid noise". Most days, it feels like everything is falling apart, whether it's our school, the staff, our families, or even my hamstrings due to a kickball incident over a year ago. Yes, they still hurt.
I do know that the feeling of loss from not having our 6th grade participate in after school volleyball this year will pass.
I know that my wife will eventually get to see her dad again.
I know that my worry over what the next six months will bring, especially as cases skyrocket this winter as many believe they will, should not and cannot paralyze how we remain connected to one another.
I know I'm sick of the pandemic, but what I'm not is sick from the pandemic.
Very clearly, I'm not okay... and I'm not going to be okay for a while... but that's okay. A lot of us aren't okay right now. We won't be okay when the quarantines are lifted and we return to some resemblance of our pre-covid lives. It's going to take a while to feel okay again.
But all of that said, I do know that one day it's going to be okay. We're going to be okay.
