By ATHENA FOSLER-BRAZIL
It’s a Thursday in March, and I actually just had to check my phone to see what day it was because I genuinely didn’t know. It’s 11:45 a.m. and I haven’t gotten out of bed yet. My morning has been spent doing homework, except it’s not real homework it’s just regular school work. But school doesn’t happen anymore.
It hasn’t been very long that we’ve been under Shelter in Place orders. School was only canceled last week, and teachers have only been delivering online content for two days. But already my classmates and I are feeling the strain of isolation. In a few minutes, I’ll get out of bed and make myself lunch, and then go sit somewhere else in my house and attempt to get work done. I may go outside for a little, but it’s raining. I won’t be asleep before midnight and I’ll sleep poorly due to lack of activity. And then I’ll wake up and do it again.
I know this is the responsible way to behave. Teachers have been incredibly kind and helpful, and I appreciate more than ever the small sacrifices they make regularly for us, their students. But even as I know this is the right thing to do, I desperately wish we could all just go back to Carmel High. Those are words I never thought I’d type.
I spent quite a bit of time in high school wishing that it would go by faster. I love my friends, I love my teachers, but I felt removed. And suddenly, now that it looks like I may have gotten my wish, all I want is to go back to school. Of course, because that’s how things go. I want to hug my friends and my teachers, to hear the voices I recognize from the back of class, to spend the time I was promised I’d be able to spend. I guess I need to be more careful about what I wish for.
As a senior, a shutdown means cancellation of all the events that we were told would make this year special. My classmates and I are staring down the cancellation of the CHS Desert Trip, senior trip, possibly prom, all of our senior season sports and the end-of-year celebrations that were meant to culminate our high school careers.
A school closure is a minimal loss compared to what others around the world are facing. I know this to be true. And now more than ever I am struck with just how much I took for granted. My reliable public school education, my support network that extends throughout the community, the extracurriculars that give me purpose and the friendships that sustain me. There’s nothing like losing something to make you fully recognize its value.
I keep coming back to that old saying: “May you live in interesting times.” The perfect ironic quip for these trying weeks ahead. Could the times get any more interesting than they are now?
Interesting is a kind word.