Leaf Insects Turn into Butterflies
March 15–19, Hunenberg, CH
Seasonal Memoir #63
The BA.2 wave is here, playing the role of wedding crasher, and we’ve let out a collective shoulder shrug about it. It’s incredible how our psychology has shifted during this pandemic. Entering year three of this has changed people in so many ways. In the West, only the “greatest generation” remembers what it was like to be under siege, quarantine, and rations, and that was for less than a decade. While this pandemic is not the same as the Second World War, I wonder if the invisible nature of the SARS CoV-2 onslaught has caused so many in society to give up preventing its spread. I’d like to think we have more grit, but I nevertheless admit to feeling the pull to simply live with the virus, and no longer hide in fear.
It was interesting to watch the intense backlash that came our way when asking our school staff to reintroduce mask wearing as a prudent measure, given the surge. We quickly realized that this request was politically untenable, and the protection measure lasted just two weeks. As more and more of our extremely cautious staff, who had been wearing masks even when the mandate was lifted, came down with Covid, I was surprised that even they didn’t raise a storm over our imprudence. We are now clearly living with the expectation of we can go forward, but we cannot go backwards. What if we felt the same way about speeding laws, aimed at protecting ourselves from ourselves? I can’t help but think that this dynamic speaks to individualism and entitlement, and the days of common good are numbered.
I love working in schools. Here’s just one illustration, contained to a single day. I had been a bit down from a growing frustration with some staff who I believed were acting entitled, who weren’t prioritizing the children over personal needs and desires. It was the end of the week, I was tired and feeling puny (a great term from the South for feeling sick), and it was sleeting ice and rain outside. My work at that moment was feeling like a job, more than a calling, or even a vocation.
On the short public bus ride to school, I was standing near a student of ours, and we got to talking about sports. I mentioned the tennis club as we drove by it. Out of the blue, she challenged me to a match before the year ended. Now who knows if she’s a good player, and it’s unlikely we’ll even make it happen, but what a great gesture!
After students found their way to class, and I shared friendly “hello’s” with several sleep deprived teenagers, which in itself was uplifting, I went down to the theatre to hear a short concert. After two years worth of cancellations, we were able to invite back to the school members of the Luzern Symphony Orchestra to perform for our music students, and then hold master classes for them. I sat in the back and listened to Bach, Mozart, and even some jazz pieces, from a violinist, a violist, and a double bassist. Simply sublime, especially in the composers’ backyard of central Europe.
The day, off to a good start, ended with a very special milestone, the senior send-off assembly. It was 90-minutes of tributes to the Class of 2022, and the perfect blend of laughter, tears, and special remembrances, highlighted by invited teachers speaking to their students. With two graduates having parents in our faculty, it provided an extra special vibe.
To cap off the day, as we sent the seniors outside (into an unexpected snowstorm), a student who I’ve gotten to know a little bit asked me impromptu why I wasn’t staying on past this year. I explained the interim nature of my position, but soon realized that this wasn’t what he was referring to. He was just trying to say that he wished I was staying on. I thanked him sincerely, though he’ll never know what a boost that small gesture gave to me, when I needed it most.
Why I love working in schools… case in point.
