2 years ago, it was a typical Thursday. It was the last day of the quarter. The next day was supposed to be a teacher’s workday. Spring break was in 2 weeks.
Right before car rider duty, I get word that schools were going to be closed to flatten the curve. I can remember it was a beautiful day outside.
The next day, we came in for the teacher’s workday. Meetings were scheduled to address how we were going to teach the students while they were at home. Some parents opted to do it on the computer while others opted to do it on paper and pencil. Packets were made. I can even remember which drawer I placed them in so I could help give them to the students I serviced.
Monday was a day I will never forget. A few students came in for their last day. For some, it would be 7 or 11 months until they entered a school building for others it was going to be almost a year and a half.
Parents were coming in to get supplies or the paper packets. No one knew what was going to happen next.
The school district I teach in had already had its world turned upside down when the tornado ripped through that previous May. In less than a year, more trauma was created in those young lives.
I was dealing with my own trauma at the same time. I had just lost my mom 5 months prior. As I was beginning to feel some sort of healing, my life was flipped upside down.
So when you say it’s been 2 years, for me it’s been much longer since my life was “normal.”
Oh, and I may have had Covid that February before the shutdown. I remember being gone for over a week and when I came back one of my students said to me, “Did you have the coronavirus?”
My reply was “no,” as I continued to have coughing attacks until the shutdown.