It’s 3:30 pm on a Monday. My 4th grader should be just wrapping up his school day. My 6th grader wraps up half an hour earlier and the 4-year-old finishes preschool at 4:00 p.m. But today, all three kids are home.
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On the night before the 2021-2022 school year will begin…
Like “social distancing” became part of our vocabulary, “learning loss” are the new words being tossed around to describe the concept that children are “behind” after a year of remote/hybrid/pandemic learning and will need to “catch up” in the coming year.
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Yesterday morning, my 11-year-old woke up with a cough. He had coughed a few times the day before, but nothing regular. I chalked it up to “reactions to springtime weather” and gave him some Benadryl. But yesterday, it crossed the line into “persistent cough.”
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We are now 11 months into this pandemic’s direct impact on our daily life. I told my 11-year-old the other day that we are “living history” right now. Some day, entire textbooks and documentaries will be produced about the year 2020 and beyond. I compared it to how World Wars I and II stretched on for years, with no particular end in sight at the time.
As if “living history” is supposed to be some sort of consolation for the havoc this pandemic has wreaked on our lives.
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Wednesday, January 6th, started as an ordinary day. Actually, it started a bit better. I hadn’t slept much, staying up far too late watching the results of the Georgia Senate runoff races. But I was running full steam ahead on adrenaline.
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