The Coronacation Diaries, Episode 73

A Waiting Game

Today was pick-up day at school. No, not the big trucks with the flags in the back (thankfully), but rather the day that the high school kids came and picked up all of the stuff they had left behind. (There was so much stuff, all of it in clear trash bags, labeled in Sharpie. One student had three --three- winter coats in her locker. I saw more pairs of underwear in those bags than I really ever wanted or needed to see. I have so many questions.) Although I wasn't assigned a duty, I showed up anyway, and I'm glad I did: not only because I got to see so many students, but because I ran my butt off and was clearly needed. I was a sweaty mess by the end, and my mask was grossly moist from my open-mouth panting into it for two hot hours, but it was a good day. I got to see some of my students, talk to several of them, connect with two I have been really worried about, and make dorky heart hands to as many as possible. And, based on the piles of books I saw in the hallway, at least 50 of my 150 missing books were returned.

The seniors also picked up the caps and gowns and diplomas, and oddly, a cookie.  They'll have to wait for Pomp and Circumstance until August, when we plan to hold an in-person graduation for them. But they were smiling. And surprisingly tan. They waved and settled for dorky hand hearts and cookies today.

Late last night I recorded and posted the assignment for the last two weeks of English for my juniors. Tonight, after I finish this blog post, I will post the last assignment for public speaking. And then all that's left is grading and giving feedback and checking survey responses. That's it. The school year is done. It ended with a sigh. There isn't even a summer reading project for my next group of AP Lit kids, because I don't have a solid way to ensure that I could include them all and get resources to all of them, or even know exactly who will be taking the class for sure in the fall. Everything feels so unfinished --so in limbo-- even though the school year is, in essence, done.

Photo by Dan Magatti on Unsplash

Looking forward, it's a wide-open summer, with no summer camps or travel plans. Just one family camping week that I am desperately hoping will still occur.  I've never looked into a summer with so much unknown, not for years...probably not for decades. I applied to be an AP Lit reader (waiting to hear back); I applied to be an MEA canvasser (waiting to hear back); I'm on the planning team for the CRWP summer institute; I applied to be on the Governor's Return to Learning Advisory Council (waiting to hear back); I will be participating in the New York Times Teaching Project; and I applied to be a lighthouse keeper (sadly, not selected). There are a lot of possibilities ahead of me, but also a lot of questions. What will my routine look like, once school is done? What will my kids be like as human beings, when this routine fades and the next one begins? How long will we be living in this weird, disconnected limbo, sitting behind screens and keyboards, substituting real experiences with virtual ones?

For now, it's a waiting game, a game of probabilities, possibilities, and unknowns. For a planner and a doer like me, it's a strange space to sit in, this lack of solid ground. But with so much unknown, so much wide-open space, it's also a huge opportunity --a chance to tackle something on the list. A chance to try something new. A chance to regain some of what I've lost in the last decade, as I pushed through a divorce, and a doctorate, and a remodel, and a broken ankle, and 1,000 other things. A chance to get back in touch with some of the rest of my life, some of the things I've been letting slide. A chance to try to (re)connect with my kids and my partner.

Maybe, even, a chance to clean my desk.