A Letter to the Students

Dear Students,

It is important that you know a few things.  

Your teachers are thinking about you.  In fact, they are worried and losing sleep thinking about you.  They are worried about your learning and being ready for the next grade. The fact that they cannot support you in the classroom right now is painful.  But that is not the most important thing.  

They are worried about you being safe.  Do you have food?  How are you doing with the anxiety of this unknown? Are you worried about adult problems?  Are there adults at home with you who are safe?  Do you have the things that you need? 

That is what weighs heavy on our hearts.

This will come to an end.  We will be back together.  We will give high fives and hugs.  We will come back together to learn, play 4-square, argue about 4-square, and it will be great. 

To my Bulldogs, I cannot wait to cheer you on, and promise to sit with you when it is hard. 

In the meantime, you are in my heart and mind. 

March 24, 2020

Part of my purpose in writing, other than I have a few more moments to do so, is to capture this time where life is no longer familiar. 

We have spent one week out of school now, and life has found a rhythm. Very intentionally, I have chosen to focus on gratitude.  Honestly, I am feeling a little guilty for how much I have enjoyed the new pace of life.

But let me clarify, I feel absolutely terrible that people are getting sick and dying.  My heart hurts for those in the medical field working ridiculous hours under difficult circumstances to bring this situation under control.  My days are still busy with meetings (now virtual), emails, meal distribution, and helping others sort through the unknown.

In all of this, there was a moment last night that struck me.  I had worked, gone for a walk, read a little, and while both of my children were both on one of the online resources for continued learning, I cooked dinner. The bigger deal, I enjoyed it  To most, this may not seem like a big deal.  Cooking is fun, creative and you get to eat at the end. (I do LOVE to eat)  There was a time I really enjoyed cooking, and then I had children.  Cooking became a mess, took my focus away from toddlers getting into all the things, and I was lucky if anyone ate it. (bonus points if they ate it without any tears) In this moment, I was enjoying the peace of cooking for my family. I will continue to capture those moments over the next unknown period of time-however long this lasts.  

On the flip side of that, I am acutely aware of the privileges I have that afford me the luxury of those moments.  Many are in situations that are not as peaceful, predictable, or certain as what I am fortunate to experience.  My 97 year old grandma who really can’t have visitors and doesn’t understand what is happening. The family of six with one on the way who doesn’t have food and is hesitant to leave the house for fear of infecting  pregnant mom at home. These are two specific situations on my heart, but the ones I know about aren’t the ones I’m worried about. 

How can we, as a community, wrap our arms around each other?  How can I seek out people who may need some extra love during this time in the form of food, TP, phone calls, or whatever it may be? 

This is what I am carrying into this second week. See, I know that the best in humanity can come out when we come together for each other.  That is what I want to take away from this situation.  Not the emptied shelves, or general sense of fear, but hope. Hope that this will be ok, that we can do this, and that we can be there for each other in the process.

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