Today’s headlines are doin nothin but causin fear and chaos over disaster and death. A hell-broth of fire storms from coast to coast and if you are like me, you are feeling staggering grief, little beyond grief.
“Trump Again Refuses to Commit to Accepting Election Results” (New York Times).
“Trump Renews Mail Vote Attacks, Again Questions Reliability of Ballots” (Wall Street Journal).
“Florida Supreme Court rules against Parkland families” (FOX News).
“Breonna Taylor shooting: A 190-plus-day timeline shows how her death changed Louisville” (Courier Journal).
“Missouri’s governor has refused to mandate masks. Now he’s tested positive for the coronavirus” (Washington Post).
“California Fire Map & Tracker” (San Fransisco Chronicle).
Thankfully there is an outdoors, away from most of this craziness, away to blue sky and open space. And here one can retreat to a place which acts as a reminder of the before days.
Two months ago we started a national effort to school students from home. Each state, perhaps even each district, dealt with this transition differently. I could not be prouder of my colleagues or my students for rising to meet this challenge head on with the full intention to keep our school community together. Twice a week I meet with all my students, through google meets, additional emails and individual meetings and phone calls. They have learned, I have learned, and swiftly we adapted to a digital forum. As a teacher of reading and writing, I have been privy to the inner thoughts and reflections of many students during this unprecedented time. They are experiencing a topsy-turvy new day to day of sheltering with all its crazy chaotic difficult challenges, yet still continue to show up digitally and wow me. Tonight, I thought I’d share some of their voices, their hopes and dreams, and everyday afternoons.
There are starts and stops at every transition. Like when Winter is slowly colliding into a Spring that turns frozen again. We, in the quiet Northeast, are used to such chaos from our skies. One day we run about in tees and another it’s back into the parka. There is a steady plodding onwards, and general acceptance of what must be will be. Perhaps that is why Vermonters are all cool with so many personal differences through the decades. And perhaps this is why so many of us are sitting tight while COVID19 runs its course. We know how to stay active through long months of difficult weather conditions right inside our own space, plus we got an upward vision that allows us to dream of what is almost here.