Chaos

It's chaos and mayhem at school. But, on a positive note, it is already the third week of chaos so everyone has gotten used to it and no-one makes a big deal of it any more.

The wave of omicron has swept over us. Last week the school was really quiet - most classes were sent home to isolate since they had confirmed Covid cases among the pupils. For some unfathomable reason, my classes were one of the few ones who were at school so I continued working as usual. The corridors were very quiet and I only saw a couple of colleagues in the teachers' room. Every time I saw another teacher, there was a moment of mutual surprise - oh, hello, so I'm not the only one here! Last Wednesday in the middle of my lit class for the fifth graders (introduction to the life and work of Astrid Lindgren!) someone started playing the piano downstairs in the assembly hall. The girls concluded that it must have been a ghost - since the building was virtually empty - and they found it very funny. 

Some classes come back after a few days of isolating and testing, others go into isolation. Teachers get sick and get well again. Everyone who is well is trying to cover for their sick colleagues. The principal was hit the hardest and is only now, after two weeks, slowly emerging from her Covid cave. Things change so fast I can barely keep up. And honestly, it is NOT quality teaching that is happening at school these days. Too many elements are changing, too many essential people are missing for any normal school life to be able to take place. But I always think - we have been interrupted for two years now. But just think about the World War II - millions were displaced, the whole continent was at war for years on end, schools were closed and books were burned, and yet a perfectly normal generation grew up after the war. I have my doubts about this generation, though. The will to learn, the capacity to discipline oneself, the desire to move forward and make the best out of this sorry situation seems to be missing in so many cases. I don't know what these teenagers will grow up to be.   

But then there are these other moments, too. Moments that bring pure joy. It was just last Friday when I asked one of my fifth graders to copy a poem she had recently written in the lit class on a decent paper so that I could send it to some competition or other. And she took out of her school bag a perfectly old-school pot of ink and pen and wrote the poem, dipping the pen into the ink after every three words. I couldn't help staring at her - and grinning from ear to ear. Not all is lost!

The only thing that I can't figure out is why I haven't caught the virus yet. I no longer count the close contacts, there are too many of them, and my peace of mind is more important than the everlasting counting. I don't think I will be able to dodge it for long, though. From a human perspective, it doesn't seem possible - and maybe not necessary either. What has to happen, happens. But until that I try to live as normally as possible. Even if "normally" means walking around eerily empty school buildings.