Sometimes there are no good options
Sometimes there are no good options
Our school district presented their re-opening plan last week. For the first six weeks, the girls will go to school half day every other day and spend the remainder of the day at home, learning remotely.
Caroline is going to be a senior and Katherine a freshman. These are big years for the girls. Like really big.
I say this to acknowledge that I am sad. I am disappointed. I am angry at the virus. I am disgusted that our federal government allowed the virus to spread, uncontrolled. I am just generally mad. I worry about the long term side effects of virtual school. I know that no matter how hard our teachers and administrators are working (and they are working crazy hard!!!), the education the girls get this fall will not be the same as it would be if they were in school. I know that socially, virtual school is not great for anyone. It’s bad for extroverts and it’s bad for introverts. I get all that.
But…I also know the girls should not go to school full time in person in September.
Sometimes things can be bad AND necessary.
Sometimes there are no good options.
Sometimes we and our children must sacrifice for the greater good.
Sometimes we can’t make everything ok for our kids no matter how much we wish we could.
Sometimes, even when the options presented to us are really bad, they are also the best options.
These days, I find myself thinking about the people who parented during the depression in the United States and those who parented during WWII in Europe. Did they say, ‘But our kids have to go to school! Think of how far behind they are falling! Think of how bad this is for their social development!” I really don’t think they did. I think they probably acknowledged that it was really a bad time to be a parent. It was really a disappointing time to be a student. But they understand that it was what it was. They knew that there would years of their children’s education that would be drastically different than what they had imagined. That they had just drawn the short straw.
But then, as I imagine these parents looking back, I can’t help but think about the lessons their children learned when things were so different. Maybe these kids fell way behind in geometry but they learned to be more creative. Maybe they never really mastered chemistry but they learned grit. Maybe they struggled to learn a second language but they learned what it meant to work hard for the benefit of others.
I know I am wearing rose colored glasses. And believe me, there are plenty of times when I can’t think this way. When I just get caught up in how sad this all is. But then I think and realize, the sooner we accept that we can’t fix this fall for our kids, the sooner we can create a fall that will be meaningful. It will be meaningful in a very different way than we had anticipated but it can be meaningful none the less.
Stacey, I so appreciated your words today, as well as those of Emily Oster in today's NYT OpEd: https://www.nytimes.com/2020/07/28/opinion/coronavirus-schools-reopening.html?campaign_id=39&emc=edit_ty_20200728&instance_id=20707&nl=opinion-today®i_id=52195613&segment_id=34546&te=1&user_id=9005ddf2b06eaff8deed575d082f0322
Some of us (ahem) are perfectionists, as the author points out. We want the reopening of every aspect of our lives to be perfect--partly because the handling of the pandemic has been so NOT perfect--but it won't be. We need to think about, talk about, and prepare for, every eventuality!
Thank you, Stacey, for your heartfelt and thoughtful post. Sometimes there are no good options - it is like the choice of Arjuna in the Bagavad Gita. Caught between the warring armies of family and boyhood friends, Arjuna must choose between them - he cannot stay neutral. Any choice he makes will cost him dearly, emotionally, yet choose he must. And in choosing, he must make a new reality with his choice.
I am a retired teacher who spent many years in public schools where a school building was the safest place for a child or young adult. I also taught in private schools where it was imperative that children of privilege learned that they were not better or smarter than others. Schools really do matter, and now many parents are realizing just how much they do.
I spent two agonizing hours on 9/11 with 125 9th and 10th graders in our brand new Upper School program, on that fateful day, watching the Twin Towers come down. Then, after conferring with the small staff of our fledgling school, I announced that we would return to an abbreviated class schedule for the remainder of the day. “We will not let terrorists dictate to us or control our lives”, was the unified message we sent. The other message - nothing will ever be the same again. This is the dawn of a new age - get ready for it.
And I told them the story of my childhood, listening to the Berlin airlift, the Cuban missile crisis, the Conelrad alerts, missile drills and of being in grade school when JFK was assassinated. Then Vietnam, Chicago, and the worst of all, losing Martin and Bobby. I had to remind them of the lesson we tried to learn, all more poignant today, that Dr. King taught us - “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”
Every generation has its challenges. Adults must be there to guide the younger ones, and advise the older ones, as to how to meet them. Just as in Arjuna’s case, there is no easy answer, and there is no right or wrong answer. There is only the failure to meet the challenge. I truly appreciate what you are doing, Stacey, to help your daughters to meet this challenge by looking into your own heart. And a good heart it seems to be.