On Wednesday of last week, my school district made the difficult decision to reopen into a hybrid model school day: with half day distance learning and 90 minutes of voluntary in-person advisory. Though there remain numerous conflicting issues on both sides of this argument, one thing most people can agree upon is that we’re heading into uncharted waters. Many people are frightened. Many people have questions that cannot be answered. I am one of those many people, and I’m sure you are probably one of them, as well.

This blog post is not going to answer any of those daunting questions. I will not pretend to know where to begin with this issue. In fact, I stand somewhere in the middle of the argument. I understand how much our students and educators need to get back to in-person education, but I can also identify with the terrifying anxiety that comes with not knowing. Not knowing if this decision will lead to more illnesses. Not knowing if my children, my husband, or I will get sick. Not knowing is unsettling. Not knowing is torturous at times. Not knowing is the reality we all face… unfortunately.

As I head into my last week of pure distance learning, I wonder how this new hybrid model will unfold. I remember the same distressing fears when I was faced with the idea of distance learning, but like all of the educators I know and call my friends, we rose to the challenge. We put in the work. We learned the new technologies that were necessary to help our students feel some sense of normalcy during an abnormal school year. In short, we did what we always do… we became flexible and persevered. We took a crappy situation and built a garden, and we will do it again. It’s just what we do.

One thing I’d like you to remember, if you are faced with similar circumstances, educators care about your kids. We didn’t ask for these circumstances. Many of us are just as frustrated and fearful as you are. We want the future generations to thrive. We want them to grow into incredible human beings. We want them to be safe. But most of all, we want them to learn. To learn that regardless of what life throws their way, regardless of how problems attempt to break them, they can rise up. Rise above their fears. Rise above the uncertainties. Rise up in the face of the unknown and emerge victorious.

In the end, that is what we all want. Isn’t it? To rise.

So, when your school reopens, remember there is an educator there who is struggling to find normalcy, too. Many of us have children of our own. Many of us have family members who are compromised. Many of us are wading alongside you in those uncharted, dark waters, hoping to stay afloat long enough to be rescued. Remember, we’re doing our very best with a crappy situation, and we’re just trying to turn it into a garden. We will do what we can to help our students blossom. We will be flexible. We will persevere. It’s what we do.

I know I can’t do this alone, though. I need you to help me when I feel like quitting. I need encouragement, just as my students do. I need to feel grace when I am surrounded by fire. I need patience. I need kindness and understanding. Mostly, I’d like to feel like I’m not going to drown. In short, I’d like to blossom in this garden, too. I’ll do my part, but I’m hoping you do yours, as well.

Together, we can make this work. Together, we can thrive. Together… that’s the answer, friends. That’s our solution. Let us never forget that.