Day 48: On Hope, Part 3

So, on the subject of hope: the news on Omicron appears somewhat hopeful. In certain areas of the United States, the wave may be perhaps, tentatively, (hopefully?) cresting. New infections in those earliest hit locations—New York City, Chicago—may be leveling off. Even Philadelphia and South Jersey may have reached their peak. 

Now, this belies the fact that hospitals are severely understaffed and overrun, hospitalization and death rates continue to climb, and numbers descending from a massive high remain massively high, but I am seeking signs of hope here. 

I feel a tiny inkling of hope the strictness with which I have been running my classroom—extreme distancing, no hugging, extracurriculars cancelled, socially distanced “partner work”—may not remain necessary for much longer. After all, reading to a buddy 6 feet away is hard.

Maybe soon I can loosen some mitigation measures and go back to a classroom approximating what 1st grade should look and feel like. This seems more reasonable in an environment with one third the current community transmission rate and an official case positivity rate, oh, anywhere south of 38%.

Plus, I believe more of my students are getting vaccinated, though this is hard to parse because 6-year-olds are notoriously unreliable sources.

I hope students who have been sick will test negative and return to school, and I hope families keeping kids at home due to concern about excessive coronavirus spread will begin to feel comfortable sending them back.

And I hope so hard that Omicron presages other variants that continue to be “milder" and—via increased vaccination rates and increased immunity from previous illness—coronavirus transitions from pandemic to endemic. From what I have read, this scenario proves possible, perhaps even likely, but is not a forgone conclusion. 

Viruses mutate as randomly as evolution itself, but the process takes place extremely quickly as the virus produces a million new generations daily. The next dominant mutation could be more contagious, more vaccine evasive and more physically taxing, not less. In that case, G-d help us all.

As to my personal state of well being, let's just say I, unlike Philadelphia, am not at my peak.

Under this extreme stress, I am not physically or emotionally holding up well. My focus on hope notwithstanding, I have been staying up late wasting time online. The dark circles under my eyes look even darker than usual. Last night, I bit all my fingernails to the quick, though I abandoned that habit more than a year ago. And as a long-term pescatarian, I have been compulsively nibbling bites of hot dogs and bacon—whatever we keep in the fridge for the kids—along with a seemingly endless supply of chocolate peanut butter.

All the stress and uncertainly has decreased my self control and inhibitions so much that techniques for self-soothing I could previously access now feel completely out of reach. 

I feel exhausted, depleted and drained—but not without hope. 

Because hope is not about how much chocolate peanut butter you ate last night. It is about how you will to get up now, workout, and cheerfully teach socially distanced 1st grade all day. Then, you will get excellent sleep, nourish yourself with healthy foods, and build your self-care and resilience reserves over the upcoming three-day weekend. 

After all, hope springs eternal.