Day 254 of Isolation

Now that it’s almost Thanksgiving, students are finally getting a welcome break from a uniquely taxing semester. As I’m writing this, there are three vaccines that seem to work, and the timeline predicts that non-medical workers who aren’t uniquely at risk could be vaccinated by May. I cried when it hit me - the news that my senior year could actually be okay, that I could hug my friends and take all in-person classes and go to the store without worrying that I'll get my family sick. It’s beginning to feel like I’ve been repeating the same hollow encouragements in every post, but finally, an actual end is near.

Although every state that’s recounted their votes from the election has returned the same result, the soon-to-be-former president continues to file failed lawsuits like a pensioner yelling at the wind. It’s gotten to the point where news headlines that are simply stating objective facts can be easily read as sarcastic, always ending with some version of “in spite of a lack of evidence”, and I can imagine the newspeople sighing at what they’re hearing: “He’s still going? Really?” As for me, I’m trying to keep one ear checked into politics, but I’m grateful to have a few months of relative political quiet. Instead, I'll keep my infotainment small-scale and local. Online school, in effect, removes everything that makes the "high school experience" such a potent cultural force, diluting it to pure academics, so I'm grateful for any remainder of the interpersonal subterfuge and meaningless speculation that bring some excitement to our virtual lives. I'm not exactly suggesting that you replace news with gossip as much as I'm begging you not to judge me for doing that for a few months, since in quarantine, fun isn't easy to come by.

The second group of students to live on-campus at my school has now returned to their various homes, scattered throughout the state, and seeing my experience echoed in that of so many others both forced me to melancholically relive the pain of leaving and gave me some selfish hope that at least we’re all on the same monotonous chapter. Now, I try to comfort my friends who are coming off the six-week high of social interaction and euphoric outings, bathing in the light, to return to the cave of online learning. We almost all know how it feels now, to miss the feeling of a mask on your face while in your own home, to instinctively fill out the required health assessment upon waking up, to call your friends constantly in fear of losing them, and to realize that the person you’ve become is a puzzle piece now placed into the wrong box. The first week home may admittedly be a fugue state, and feeling sad right now is the most natural thing in the world, but it does get better, especially if you call your friends as much as possible. I promise, you won’t be annoying them (especially if they’re like me, extroverts desperate for the chatter of a non-family member).

I will acknowledge that I'm so privileged to be attending school in-person at all. The local public school system recently announced a plan to partially reopen, but only for elementary schoolers (completely ignoring what would happen with high school). So, high school will probably be fully online, meaning some of my friends will complete their junior or senior years without ever stepping foot in a physical classroom. People are disappointed at the county's dismissal of the plight of high school students - my friend Eva (once again, pronounced Ava), said, “Obviously, I don’t love it. I don’t want to go back to school when it’s not safe, but it feels like so many other schools in the country can make it work, so why aren’t we even trying?" The adjustment to online school has varied greatly among students, with my friend Charlize stating that "I cannot do online school, and I cannot do performing arts at home," while my friend Harper said "Online school kinda slaps." (For my mom's Facebook friends, "slaps" is a good thing). Both the local schools and my school seem to be having trouble balancing ensuring that students learn the material and preserving their mental health in stressful home environments, but hopefully the next semester will reflect some much-needed adjustment in school policies after what we've all learned in the past few months.

As for my school, last week, admin announced that the second semester will be in the same six-week rotation configuration as the first, and the news was met with a bittersweet mix of disappointment and acceptance. My friend Makayla said, “It’s not awful, but the seniors should get more time all together,” in reference to the three days of senior-only time that have been added after final exams. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the greater amount of fully-remote weeks, expressing hope that the next semester is “more engaging and less stressful for fully-remote kids.” Many of the people I knew who chose to stay at home for the whole semester will be coming to campus in the spring partially due to how hard it is to learn for months at home. My friend Pranet conceded, “[The plan is] the best they can do under the circumstances, since it’s a lot easier to open a closed state than to close an open state. I’m pretty satisfied with it.” There’s also hope that restrictions for those on-campus might relax in the spring if cases decrease enough, so at least we have that as motivation to keep begging everyone to wear masks. In general, we’re sad that full-density can’t happen, especially since there were zero outbreaks in either cohort, but since the stupid people of our state are causing cases to go up, we’re grateful that we’ll all get another six weeks of actual school in the spring. I’m definitely not the only one who was thrilled to be on campus, and everyone at my school is waiting together for this whole thing to end so we can finally enjoy the on-campus experience at the school that, for many of us, represents a challenge, an escape, the beginning of our adulthood.

I’ll conclude with a quick word on time: It’s odd how differently it passes at home than at school. When I was with my friends, every day was full of experiences I actually wanted to remember, and though it inevitably felt too short upon its conclusion, my time there felt like it was passing steadily, probably because I was constantly thinking about it and evolving as a person throughout. At home, every day is filled with either work or self-distraction, and after another six weeks, it hasn’t felt anywhere near as long. I look back on the days and can barely remember anything that’s happened to me, and my camera roll has returned to consisting of mostly sunsets, assignments, and tomfoolery over Zoom instead of the constant stream of friends' faces that once filled it. Being at home is livable, and, out of necessity, we have to focus on whatever positivity and fun we can find. I won't make any promises about this whole pandemic being over soon, but eventually it will be, and we'll be back to normal life with a newfound appreciation for the human interaction that keeps everyone going.

XOXO, Quaranteen