Waiting to Exhale

Friday night, my school had graduation!  The real thing.  Were there fewer of us than usual?  Yes.  Were we masked?  Yes.  Was my seat spaced from the person next to me?  Yes.  But it was real and in person.  As the ceremony ended and teachers followed the graduates up the aisle, we heard cheering and clapping.  It took me a moment to realize what was happening.  They were cheering for us, the teachers and staff.  I got what my kids from a few years ago would have called "all the feels."  I teared up, laughed, had goosebumps, got a little catch in my throat, all of it.

After the reception, in which I spoke to alumni (some of the first I've seen all year) and parents (many of whom I have only seen online this year), I got into my car and heard myself let out an audible sigh.  It wasn't a sigh of sadness or exasperation.  It served more as punctuation than anything else.  It was a sigh of finality.  I realized after I heard it that I have, in a sense, been holding my breath since March of 2020.  

Going into virtual learning involved a lot of uncertainty about the strength of our wifi, our ability to teach from a screen, and the anticipation of return.   The summer involved a lot of tentative planning.  Upon returning to campus, every decision about seating, communication with parents, how to administer tests with equity, whether to and how to hold events, whether or not to bubble our athletic teams, and even how and where to eat lunch, came with uncertainty about whether it was the right thing.  We prayed, used our best wisdom, held our breath, and hoped for good results.  

In pre-pandemic years, I spend most of my days operating at 90-95% of my energy capacity.  Occasionally, there were days requiring 100%, and I would go home exhausted and needing rest but happy to have accomplished whatever it was that required all that energy.  This year, every day required operating at 100%, and those days that required more meant operating in an energy debt.  This caused my muscles to be perpetually tightened with my shoulders climbing up toward my ears, elevated blood pressure, and tears that have been chronically just below the surface.  I have talked little about the difficulties and exhaustion of this year with anyone who hasn't done it because the most empathetic would still not be able to understand.  

My school administration has been great about listening, caring, and working rest days into the schedule, yet I still worried each time I saw an email with the subject line "Update from GRACE . . ."  Parents have been supportive, and kids have been great, but I still held my breath when an email came in from a parent with the subject line "Quick question" or "Just a concern."  My co-workers are the best ralliers in the world.  When anyone had a need, they jumped in to make sure things were covered, even though their plates were already full.  I can't imagine enduring this year with any other administration, colleagues, or group of parents and students.

GRACE friends, now that we have the chance to exhale, I wish you all good books, delicious tea, entertaining movies, and long walks this summer.  I'd also like you to add, "hug Beth" to your school checkout list.  We could call use the oxytocin.