I’m a school librarian. When staff returned to work a few weeks ago, we all trooped, wearing our masks, to the football field. There we sat on the bleachers and chairs set up on the field, physically distanced. We held a very different version of our traditional “welcome back” assembly.
After about 15 minutes, I began to feel uneasy. I was among more than 100 people. I had grown unused to being around so many people. It had been awhile. Five months, to be exact.
I had known the transition back wouldn’t be easy. Now I was experiencing that feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Of course I was worried about catching Covid19, as I am every day. But I knew I was being unrealistic. Protocols were in place. We were to wear our masks at all times, unless we were in a room alone with the door closed. We were also supposed to stay six feet apart.
Hand sanitizer dispensers had been placed throughout the building, and buckets of antiseptic wipes in every classroom.
I am lucky enough to have a small office, and there is a sink in the library workroom next to it.
I knew all this, but being around so many people was unnerving me. It never had been before. The staff is just a small part of the school population. There usually are around 1,000 students on hand as well.
I thought back in wonder to our previously crowded food court and bustling hallways.
Starting in March, we were told to stay home as much as possible and to avoid other people. My husband, Paul, is in the “at risk” group, so I did all the grocery shopping. We went for daily walks. I saw other people, but from a distance.
In April, my school district began online learning. We held Zoom meetings twice a week. It was good to see my colleagues again, albeit virtually. I held some conference calls with my library staff. There was a lot of email flying back and forth. I ran a virtual reference desk on the library Facebook page.
But still, I was mostly at home with Paul, and our dog and cats. I started to go to the hardware store and the drug store as well as the market. But that was it. Even though I’m an introvert, I felt isolated.
When we were advised to wear masks, the feeling intensified.
Yet I also felt safe. I was doing everything i could to keep Paul and myself healthy.
Staff went back to school for three days in June. I was anxious. The first day was difficult for me. We all stayed in our classrooms and work spaces, but I then I had to use the school bathroom for the first time. I hadn’t used a bathroom outside my home since March.
I was leery of the shared microwaves, so I brought a cold lunch. I worried about touching common surfaces.
Each day, however, got easier. On the third morning, Dunkin’ coffee and doughnuts were brought in. We followed the protocols as we served ourselves, and I actually enjoyed my treat while sitting six feet away from my library co-workers.
Then it was summer vacation. Paul and I made a point of taking day trips several times a week. We went to the beach, hiked and explored a lighthouse. Our adventuring did wonders for my sense of isolation. I was seeing new places and revisiting spots we hadn’t been to in years. As summer progressed, more tourists arrived. I could indulge in one of my favorite activities: people-watching. Finally, there was more to life than the supermarket.
Then, after a week’s vacation in a summer cottage, I was back at work. The first three days were spent just with my two library colleagues, and a smattering of other staff. It was a good transition. I had no idea at that point that being in a group of people for more than a few minutes was going to unnerve me.I’d been to beaches quite a few a times in the previous weeks, and people tended to cluster near the entrances. Though I try to shop during less-busy times, I get caught from time to time in a bustling supermarket. But in both cases I was just passing through groups of people.
As I sat in the bleachers that first full day back at work, I thought of how we had begun the school year in 2019. Staff from the entire district gathered in the high school-middle school food court. We enjoyed coffee, tea and scones and caught up with each other. Then we filed into the auditorium, chattering excitedly.
This year was surreal. What were we doing on the football field, masked, distanced?
Our collective attention was taken by the turkey vultures who circled in the sky over some nearby woods. The teacher sitting behind me said, “Something’s dead.”
I felt a chill. I do feel like something inside of me has died. Yet it was a beautiful, sunny day. I was among friends.
The new school year was about to begin. I told myself to look forward. I told myself, “Hope lives.”
No comments:
Post a Comment