I lay here in a tired fog from the first week of school. I look at my bandaged feet that have seen better days, my tired legs that have walked up and down halls guiding students in masks. My heart feels heavy and worn, but this is a familiar feeling working in education. I feel so much empathy, care, and love for the students I have just spent the first week back to school with.

Juggling new schedules, worrying about hand washing and masks. New demands, reminders to stand 6 feet apart. I feel uneasy. I feel grateful I can be there. I feel worried, not so much about me and Covid, but about the students and the fear that we are trying to fan from the air. The fear and angst is there whether we want to admit it or not. It’s coming from parents and administration and educators. We are trying our best, but here’s the thing: we want to take off our masks so you can see us smile. We don’t want to keep reminding you to keep your mask on up over your nose, we can’t stay six feet from you because we want and need to hover over your computer and help you figure it out. Heck, we are trying to figure it out as well. We want to give you hugs and high fives, and most of all we don’t want to be worried and in turn make you feel worried. Our job is to keep you safe, and that’s what we will do to the best of our ability. We want things to feel normal again and we will try to emulate that, even through our masked faces. 

I will take advantage of the weekend and time I have to replenish my reserves. I will pray and be grateful for the job I get to do and the students I get to serve. I will thank God for my health, my schedule, and my ability to connect with the children who are needing us so much at times like this. I will put self care at the forefront when I am able, and I won’t forget to breathe. I will remember I can’t give something that I don’t have. I will continue to put one bandaged foot in front of the other and know that, “This too Shall Pass.”