Life is a bit rubbish at the moment isn’t it?
We can’t do the things we want or see the people we want to see. For many of us it’s even worse than that with us desperately worried about the people we care most about. Some of us have been really ill. Some of us are processing premature bereavements. Some of us are really scared about the future – about our jobs and how we’ll afford the things we need.
Yes. Life is a bit rubbish at the moment except here and right now in this place somehow it isn’t.
Year 10 and 11 are sitting in a circle playing drums, led by their music teacher who is smiling and nodding and cajoling and encouraging. A sound that comes from far away across oceans and mountains and valleys and mighty rivers connects us all to a world that’s been closed in on itself for nearly a year now. We take it seriously but we are laughing too. This joyful sound we make resonates through our whole school, heard by the chess players and the dancers and the cooks, all grabbing the gift of a screen free day with both hands. Then it’s lunch time and we move the speakers into the canteen and there’s loud music and responsibly distanced dancing.
Those of us who are here are the really lucky ones but those who can’t join in with us here aren’t excluded either. We’ve brought in as many as we can safely hold just for today. Those at home are rising to the screen-free challenges they have been set while their parents meet with their tutors, who are talking about all the remote learning stuff, and checking it’s working, and finding problems and solutions and reassuring and making light of all this awkwardness and inconvenience because what better way is there to do this?
Here we all are doing what we’ve always done. Caring, educating, teaching and learning. All of us travelling together, closer when the road is tougher even though it might not look like it from the outside.
And yet there are those who say schools are closed.