The reality of living through a global pandemic is impossible to comprehend. In a fast-paced society that often feels like a collection of isolated individuals, we are suddenly disoriented, forced to change our way of life to systematically protect the most vulnerable among us.
In the abstract, this noble goal sounds like a no-brainer. Everyone can think of someone vulnerable that they would want to protect. But here we are—a society visibly divided between those stockpiling toilet paper and those wondering how to make their next rent check.
I’m feeling the same uncertainty that so many people are enduring. As an educational consultant, I can’t tell you how much work I’ll have this week or in the next four weeks while schools are closed. While we all rightfully strategize to protect the medically vulnerable, our low-income families are trying to stay afloat. I’ve spent most of my time these last few days using a parent’s lens and thinking about our own plan at home, imagining the different scenarios and tracking the growing list of unknowns.
For whatever reason, today I caught a glimpse of myself as a high school student. Suddenly, it was devastatingly obvious—this pandemic would have been soul-crushing in those years. I would have felt utterly defeated.
All of my coping strategies for navigating the dysfunction at home would have vanished overnight. Strategy #1 : Over-schedule yourself outside of the house. Keep it moving so there’s no reason to bear witness to what’s happening at home. Strategy #2: Release aggression through sports. Get out all your anger and spend every ounce of energy so you can fall asleep once you make it home. Strategy #3: Help someone else. Solve someone else’s problem so you don’t have to dwell on the continual frustration of not being able to solve your own.
I typically spent at least 12 hours a day at school. If the pandemic were happening then, my entire world would have come to a full stop. No more basketball season. No promise of soccer season. No IB classes. No hanging out with my friends. No volunteering. No church. No reason to have hope. Instead, I would have been stuck at home wondering day after day why this was the best my family could do. I would have stalked social media for any indication that school would open again.
Let me be clear: I understand that closing schools is always a difficult decision and that these closures are needed for public health and safety. And yet what is needed to protect our collective physical health will undoubtedly yield traumatic experiences for some of our students and families.
We need each other and we all need to commit to taking action. If you’re a kid feeling trapped, reach out to a trusted adult (for me that was a teacher). If you’re an adult in need of support during this crisis, be brave and ask for help. If you’re an adult operating from a place of financial stability and emotional security, set aside time to lift up your community members.
I’m grateful that the teenage version of myself never had to experience the sudden loss of everything that grounded her. I went to school and received the important validation that only comes from being seen and heard. As so many of us continue to face fear and loss in the wake of a global pandemic, we need this compassionate reassurance that we are not alone.