I've never had the flu. My husband has. My son has. But I have never had the flu. When COVID found me I was woefully unprepared. It hurt. My throat, my head, my muscles, and my skin. My skin actually hurt. And I have been tired. So very tired. I can't shake it. All of my other symptoms have gone, but I am still so very tired. Yet, I know just how lucky I am. My whole family became positive because of me, which was unsurprising. My daughter (as she mirrors me in most things) has echoed my symptoms. She is the only one. She started with the sore throat, progressed to a fever and overall heaviness and cough. Hopefully in three days, her symptoms too will pass, leaving her with fatigue and a cough, but nothing else. Hopefully.
When the Connecticut Department of Health called me today, I was more than ready to answer all of their questions, and was humbled when they asked me about any and all help I might need. Did I need help accessing healthcare? No, my job has provided. Do I need help with rent or mortgage assistance? No. I can continue to pay my way. Am I concerned that I can not care for my loved ones? No. We are able. We are able. We are able. We are so very blessed. But for all those who are not in my position, I'm glad that we are counting. I'm glad there are people (even on the weekends) who are taking names and numbers. I'm glad that they are asking the right questions. And more than anything else, I am glad that there is someone in power who will listen to those data points. I am glad science and education are back in the White House.
For those who question, teachers are getting COVID. There are lots of us. There is mitigation of course. Masks and space and dividers help. But teachers are getting COVID. I could not teach for most of last week because of the weariness in my very bones, because if I sat up for too long I got dizzy. Because my fever made me cold all the time under layers and blankets. Because everything hurt. Because it hurt to talk. But I wanted to teach. I felt guilty not teaching. I felt like I was failing my students. There is an AP exam on the horizon. My twelfth graders are working on presentations. I still responded to their emailed questions. I still checked their progress. I still got paid, and I am ever thankful for that. But I also still felt like it was not, could not ever be enough. But as teachers, we often, if not always feel that way. We are never really enough.
My own kids were still working this past week, as well. Quarantined from school, they continued on. My daughter livestreamed into her classes and did her best to keep up. My son had asynchronous work, and livestreamed in for the read aloud at noon. They kept up. They pushed. They asked me for help. We fought over reading (for one) and math (for the other). But we pushed. We kept on.
Tomorrow I will livestream in and teach my classes. I am still in quarantine. I will do my best for my students, as always. I will be honest about my health, about my son (who will be by my side as he always is when I am home). I will check in on them all, their stress levels, their anxieties, their day to day well being. But I will do so with a new perspective. COVID is exhausting. I didn't know that weariness until this past week. I didn't really know what many of my students have known, have witnessed, have felt, until just now. I know it now.
It is a good reminder that frailty is always just a breath away. We do not know what is to come, or how we will withstand the moments of our lives. But we are able, more than we might know. We are blessed, and we are able.
