The First Day of School
When Apoorva Mandavilli, a science and global health reporter for the New York Times, said, on The Daily Podcast that aired on Wednesday, September 8th, that we should all memorize the Greek alphabet to keep track of how quickly the virus was mutating I nearly spit out my coffee.
My kindergartener would be starting public school the next day and my 1st grader the day after that. With both kids returning to school amidst surging break-through Covid cases, I was more anxious and scattered than normal. Also, calling them “break-through” feels pretty ridiculous given the number of vaccinated people who have become infected by the Delta variant.
I received no fewer than 30 emails in the four days preceding the first day of school. Many long, detailed Covid protocols and “what if” scenarios; ever-changing guidance on how, when, and where to safely pick up and drop-off my children; and a few “normal” first day of school things. I attended a Zoom orientation with 150 other families where a 6 year old accidentally hit the screenshare button while the PE teacher was talking. The child was drawing in paint or some other program and it took the Principal a minute to figure out how to regain control.
The school district is doing its best and I want to thank each and every teacher, school administrator, and other employee (janitors, kitchen staff, all of you!) who make it possible for my children to attend school in person. THANK YOU! I hope you can still see the humor in the volume and flavor of communication hitting parents this week.
Thursday was kindergarten only; the rest of the grades would start Friday. All the parents and kinders were experiencing the same thing: so many unknowns, a nervous excitement at the idea of in-person learning and a new chapter for all of us. Watching my tiny 5yr old son, wearing an enormous blue backpack that made him look more turtle than boy, walk bravely away from me into a building I was not allowed into with people I’d never met, was jarring in a way I didn’t expect. I was proud, and terrified. Terrified of the virus, the idea of my baby “alone” in a new environment, everything. I was terrified of everything. My 5yr old was brave AF.
The next day, Friday, was the first day of 1st grade for my daughter, at a different public school. I’m not used to seeing so many people in one place anymore. I’ve been hiding at home and making quick trips to the grocery store here and there. Hundreds of people in one place is anxiety fuel. It feels unsafe, even outdoors. But the masked parents standing by the sea of masked children was not the strangest part of that morning.
I only have my kids half-time; their dad has them the other half. Those first days of school weren’t my kid-days, but my ex and I agreed that I could meet them at the school for drop-off. On my daughter’s first I arrived a bit too early, before my ex showed up. Without children in tow, other parents mistook me for a school employee and asked me all kinds of questions that, fortunately, I was able to answer because I’d read all 30+ emails and attended the Zoom orientation.
A man waved me over toward one of the gates and it took me a second to recognize that it was my ex husband’s current partner’s ex husband. Yes, you read that correctly. As I walked over, my mind was searching for a better way to be connected to this person but couldn’t find one. He introduced me to his current partner and we talked for a few minutes before my ex showed up with his partner and my kid (he’d already dropped-off our kindergartener). Phew.
We, the seven of us now (five adults, two children), walked to the gate and the two kids walked through it and then out of sight. To recap: I’m the fifth wheel, with my ex and his partner and her ex and his partner. In that moment, I felt so deeply alone it was visceral. The entire way home I replayed those few minutes over and over again. It was all so incredibly surreal. These five adults with such torrid and complicated histories coming together to love and support the tiny humans we’d collectively brought into the world. It was beautiful and ridiculous at the same time. It was too much to process at once--public school, in-person learning, surging breakthrough cases, ex partners, new partners, the fact that I was partner-less. I just kept thinking: “What the fuck is my life?”
