No matter your involvement at the college, it’s fair to say you’ve probably spent the better part of six months wondering how this would look.
Now it’s here: students are back.
Of course, “students being back” means something entirely different in this context than it did six months ago. There are welcome signs waving in a hazy breeze, today on the first day back at school coloured by forest-fire smoke. There are sandwich boards with large red lines that somehow seem that much more distinct in the ferociously orange light. They indicate that the best choice might be to turn around and continue working from home.
When I realized over the Labour Day weekend that I had class in 48 hours, my heart sped up a bit, which was pretty odd, considering I’m going into third year. But everyone—student or college employee—is essentially a first-year student right now, and not just academically: most peoples’ home lives are strained.
These are the things even someone with a doctorate in History—and a thesis focusing, say, on how the Spanish Flu changed federal health care in Canada—wouldn’t read about.
They probably wouldn’t read about the utterly deafening silence that filled a room I was in recently after myself and some family members had all decided to get together despite rising case numbers. The silence came from everyone, in their own way, knowing that it was a potentially risky thing to do.
It’s hard.
There’s no one right thing to do, or one right way to do it. We sat outside and physically distanced probably 90 percent of the time. And I’m happy I decided to go. Because those people are my family. I love them. I’ve seen them about a fifth as much as I normally would have pre-COVID, so to have a few short-lived doses of normalcy—where guttural belly laughter is heard at sunset over some delicious take-out, drinks, and the music I grew up on—is important. It’s truly, in this age of eggshells replacing cemented sidewalks or sand on the beach, just a few steps short of the most satisfying feeling ever. It feels great to feed the heart a little.
So, as we all settle into a new and uncertain term, flu season, rising provincial case numbers, and the sixth month of this pandemic in British Columbia, know that just because the government irresponsibly decided to send K-12 kids back to school doesn’t make the small actions we take meaningless.
If that small action you need today is something that’s good for the soul—a hike, a ride on the bike, some time, responsibly, with friends—carve out some time for it, and if, like many, you simply don’t have time, make some, even just three or four minutes, because sometimes, in these uncertain times, that’s all you can do.