I’m interested in healing the wounds, a healing that can only happen if we actually learn from the past this time. I really don’t want to fear the next pandemic. I don’t want to fear the next crisis. I want to be able to trust that my fellow citizens will look out for each other and not just their own interests. I want to believe that more of us understand that we are interdependent and that this interdependence makes us stronger, not weaker. I want to believe that we are better than our social media accounts say that we are.
Even those least affected by COVID-19 and the ripple effect of its presence will be forever changed. It is understandable to desire a return to “normal.” It is human to look back on the past with a sense of clouded nostalgia, remembering things as we want to remember them, not as they actually were. But before we jump into a return to the way things were, we should take a moment to imagine the way things could be.
I sat in an airport in Costa Rica with a crew of teenagers, preparing to return home to Houston after […]
2021 is going to include a lot less airplane travel, time zone changes, extra-large suitcases, or language translation, but I think it will be quite an adventure nonetheless. And if it doesn’t include packing up a home over Facetime or leaving people we care about without so much as a goodbye, I’m ok with a little bit quieter year.
I have no idea what this coming school year holds. I don’t know how long I will be teaching in person, if or when we will be forced online, and I don’t know what school is going to look like for my own kids. I’m scared and apprehensive and exhausted and hopeful all at the same time.
COVID-19 didn’t break us, it showed us what was broken. We were so busy pretending that everything was ok and that we loved the rat race that we didn’t stop to consider what it was doing to our bodies and souls. And then everything stopped and suddenly we had to slow down and face the boredom that we’ve desperately avoided our entire lives.