I saw the grandmother, the daughter, the son, and the friend. I saw the nurse who gave me my vaccine, one of hundreds that day, and the technicians watching with careful eyes to make sure we were okay. It was quiet but I heard hope singing loudly. Hope cheered with every person who pushed up their sleeve, revealed their arm for prick, and breathed a bit of relief. Hope sent me dancing out the door that day and hope fuels me forward. At the beginning of our “quarantine” period, hope was abundant. We clung to hanging colorful heart shapes and placing teddy bears in the windows and shared every story of those going above and beyond to take care of each other. Hope faded fast, for me at least, as some grew weary of our waiting, forgot why we were staying inside, and the numbers grew. As anger rose and politics became the center of a discussion on safety, I laughed at the idea of “hope”. The pain of the pandemic, the constantly rising death tolls, the anxiety I experienced any time I had to go anywhere, the endless desire to hug my loved ones… All of this came to a colliding explosion with the murder of George Floyd and the agony of injustice once again boiling to the surface of this already overflowing pot. The stress and loneliness of this time has been additionally magnified as a teacher, both through my own experience on one side of the screen and in empathizing with the challenges my students are silently facing on the other side of the screen. We’ve been right at the tipping point for over 365 days. For a whole year, we’ve been ready to burst. This separation, this isolation, it’s been so very hard for so many of us. We’ve lost family, friends, neighbors, so many people. Our people. In our need to stay safe and away from our dearest loved ones, it often seems as if we’ve lost time itself. Today is the first day of spring and now, hope rises with the flowers. The vaccine is giving us the opportunity to gather once more. To hold hands and share food. To hug and to dance and to play. I saw all of that in the waiting room that day. Troy and I are only one dose in and we’re not at the point of engaging in those favorite activities quite yet but oh, I can feel it coming! I know that we can’t go back to make up for lost time or save those we’ve lost but we can learn from this time, gather our gratitude and move forward. Today feels different. It feels like joy renewed. It feels like hope. Shots in arms
Healing hands Rush of relief Feels like hope Tasting salt In the fabric The Grandmother The son The friend The people The people are feeling The world is healing A year flashed forward Time lost Time gained? March once more No normal Normal never was But new New day New ways Again, we pray That you, and I - That we will stay
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I heard one of my student’s laughter yesterday. She’s new and requested an office hours meeting. I figured it was to get clarification on an assignment or our new content, but she just wanted to chat. She told me she’s nervous about going back as a first year student and wants to make friends so she knows someone on campus when we’re in person. She told me she loves the movie Selena and she, together with a room full of little cousins, and I laughed about games and songs and life. I miss their laughter the most. I miss the connection. I miss the side conversations and the tv show reviews. I miss the Tik Tok practicing in the corner and greetings at the door. I miss snacks and songs and silly jokes. I miss seeing when they’re hurting and dropping a piece of chocolate or a note on their desk. I miss my kids and God, how I miss their laughter. This past year has been so hard on all of us. When we left school on Friday, March 13, 2020, we didn’t know that we wouldn’t be back on Monday, let alone for a whole year. It’s been challenging to lead students in learning activities and it’s been difficult to gauge response in this virtual environment but above all, it’s just been really sad. So many of my students are so disconnected from learning, from me, and from their peers. I have been struggling all year long to build those bridges back but there’s only so much one can do as the pain of isolation grows. The longer we’ve been apart, the deeper the divide. My heart hurts for my students. No one needs to say it, I know we’re all just a little depressed. During the pandemic and my experience with distance learning, I have often been reminded of that scene in Children of Men when they stop at an abandoned elementary school. The midwife talks about how the sounds of children playing stopped. The laughter stopped. As a teacher, distance learning has been a very lonely experience. I long for those sounds as I believe learning should always be fun, should always incorporate play, and there should always be room for laughter. Without that sense of connection and fun, we might as well each be the last child, left alone in our own abandoned school. I wrote this poem a few months ago and since then, have certainly experienced some ups and downs. Since writing this, we have also been given that magical, long-anticipated date of return. We’re headed back to in person instruction on April 6 and while there’s still plenty of uncertainty, lots of safety concerns, and some worry about simultaneous virtual and in-person instruction, I am so happy to be going back. Yesterday, as I drove home from some errands, blasting that same upbeat dance music I’ve been trying to distract myself with, I couldn’t stop the tears. This time, though, they were tears of joy. I can picture my students before me, my silly songs and funky dance moves bringing them a little taste of cheesy joy and I can hear it. The laughter, it’s coming back. It’s coming back and with it’s sweet sound, I’m shedding that weight on my chest, I’m laughing too and together, we’re starting to heal. Missing LaughterI miss the children
Watch them glide by A pack on wheels I can almost Hear the classroom chatter Over the bump of music I’m using to Drown the sound Of thoughts -It’s almost been a year Since we walked the halls Sang our songs Danced together for real Sadness is breaking Chunks all around Struggling to hold on Through a little Hole In my screen But most days It feels like I’m losing |
Karen UPArt, poetry, and a sampling of my creative endeavors! Archives
April 2023
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