It's Just A Stage

 I saw a bunch of signs in the window of a house nearby that read, "#OpenOurSchools." This sent me on a grief spiral that went a little something like this: 

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• Shock and denial. This is a state of disbelief and numbed feelings. This is how I felt a year ago. I could not imagine that I would be sitting at home, not biking my way to work each morning, opening up the gates at 7:40 and starting another day. This had to be some sort of bad dream. 
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• Pain and guilt. As weeks passed, I felt myself consumed by a feeling that I should be doing more. There had to be something that I could do that would make things easier. Better. Safer. Was I truly bringing all my skills to bear on this situation? 
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• Anger and bargaining. Okay. Maybe I could just find a way to open up a corner of the school, and sneak kids in. Those of us who were game to try something daring, maybe dangerous or deadly, we could whip this virus and all the strictures that were keeping us from doing the thing for which we were hired. 
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• Depression. As a new school year dawned, hopelessness replaced that firm resolve. This was how things were going to be from now on. The old way of being a teacher was over, and I was left with a choice: I could continue to tap dance around the edges or resolve myself to being the IT guy.
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• The upward turn. The election. At last, a light began to shine through the haze. As a country we were not going to be held hostage to denial and confusion. We could look forward to science showing us the way through. The new First Lady is a teacher, for heaven's sake. Whatever happens, it has to be better than the months of obfuscation. 
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• Reconstruction and working through. In a word: Vaccines. I was given a shot in the arm physically and emotionally. I was suddenly less terrified and vulnerable. In a moment, I was able to envision a future with kids in classrooms. Just a few at first. Something upon which we could build. The pieces started to come together in my mind. 
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• Acceptance and hope. There is still fear. What about surges? What about variants resistant to vaccines? What about kids who cannot keep their hands to themselves? The past year has re-instilled a feeling that had been lost: Possibility. We need teachers to show us the way. We were lost for a very long time, but now we are back. We will teach again. 
• And for the record, our school never "closed." We were open for business straight along, and now we will figure out a way to work our magic in a more intimate setting.