COVID-19, you got me today

Let me preface by saying no, I do not have Coronavirus. I do have anger and resentment and sadness and frustration toward it. I have a big case of the sniffles right now from the bawl-fest that just went down in my car because of it. I have restlessness and anxiousness and some grief mixed in caused by it. I have an insane amount of gratitude for the courage and willingness of first responders and hospital and doctors office staff during this time. I realize how this virus has taken it's nasty toll on the majority of the world and even my immediate community. I'm grateful for my health and that I still have the opportunity to support myself (and Messi) through all of this.

But, I also realize I'm completely mourning the loss of the ending of this school year for my students.

Last week, our Governor made the call to close schools for two weeks to help prevent the further spread of you-know-who. I was pretty okay with that, I didn't get mad at the decision. I definitely knew it was for the best after seeing the last few weeks of news articles and reading COVID-19 scary death totals and survivor stories and symptoms. I didn't want any of my kiddos to get anything from anyone else or bring anything home to their families. I was excited to be given the option to still work from school and have time in my classroom to plan and get things together for the kids to complete at home. I was feeling pretty confident I could emotionally handle what was being thrown at me. I felt like I jumped right to "acceptance" in the stages of grief and was doing okay figuring out what the next two weeks would look like. 

The end of last week, you made me restless and ready to have my kids back.

This week, I wish I could have a sit down with you, Coronavirus. I'm wrecked. You really tried to beat me to a pulp today. You've stolen the ending of this school year from us, of second grade from my babies. My favorite part of the year where we review content and get ready to move to the next grade together in our classroom. We talk about becoming third graders and get excited for that big transition together in our classroom. We discuss what we will do over Spring break and we were even going to hatch chicks and learn about life cycles together in our classroom. I was fortunate enough to loop up with my class from last year. How lucky am I to witness almost two years of growth and laughs and jokes and hugs from the same group of kiddos? As a teacher, I'm not okay. I'm not okay I can't see my kids until May 15th face-to-face. I'm not okay I can't go over morning sticky's with my kids or walk them to resource or have whole group carpet time or let them buddy read or review text features or show me "something cool" they can do together in our classroom. I'm grieving of what the ending of this school year could have been for these kids together in our classroom. How we could have been together learning instead of at home separately through computers. I'm grateful for those devices and computers and the online learning resources, but I desperately want to be learning together in our classroom.

I'm not okay, COVID-19. You've made a lot of things feel unfair this last week. You've taken a lot from a slew of people these last few months. I know it was a safe call and the right thing to do to cancel school for the health of everyone, but I want to sock you in the face. I know a few parents that would join me in this fight. You make me angry that others won't stay home so we can get back to our "normal" sooner. I don't want to be angry or restless or sad or resentful or anxious.

I'm aware of how fortunate I am. Believe me, I've seen and read and watched of how much worse it could be. I'm grateful for my health. But right now, I'm sad. My students' parents are stressed for good reason and doing the best they can. I'm doing the best I can to provide what they need. I'm proud of the communication we've had and available resources for them to use for their kiddos at home. I love the photos I've gotten of my students learning at home and doing their best work. I know parents are figuring out how the next two months will look just like I am trying to. I know there are positives and I promise I am seeking and noting them.

But I desperately want to be the one teaching their kiddos together in our classroom.