Dispatch from Coronaville: Paradise Lost?

There is definitely a sliding scale of loss in this pandemic. There are the truly horrific losses.  The loss of life to the virus. Parents and grandparents. Sons and daughters. Spouses and Siblings. Friends and Lovers, all taken too soon by this terrible scourge.  There is devastating loss of livelihoods, millions put out of work, wondering how they'll keep a roof over their heads and food on the table.  There is the frightening loss of health--once vibrant people now tethered to machines to help them breathe, fighting the virus to return to health.

And then there are the lesser losses. I don't believe that all losses are equivalent, but I do think that they are all valid. There is the loss of freedom to move about, the loss of the freedom of assembly.  There is the loss of milestones, weddings postponed, funerals missed, graduations on hold. Someone said that this feeling we all have-this malaise that we battle against if we are fortunate to enough not to have to fight those larger battles that eclipse everything else--is grief. We are grieving the loss of life as we knew it.  We are mourning what I now call, with a wry smile, The Time Before.

I took this photo of my classroom white board today when I had to stop by the school to pass on a laptop computer to a child who needed it. It's left the way it was on March 12th, our last day in the classroom. Note the hopeful date of return that my students' put on the board then: March 16 or March 31. But it was not to be.

I'm grieving on behalf of my eighth graders (and myself, honestly) who had their final year at Columbus Adventist Academy unceremoniously snatched away from them. And they were having such a great time too. Most of my 8th graders can't wait to get away from CAA and move on to the exciting world of high school. This class was in no hurry for the year to end. They were savoring and treasuring every moment of their school year.  More than most classes, these kids deserved to have their whole year. There's a litany of 8th grade end-of-the-year traditions that my class will likely miss out on: the Day of Responsibility where they get to trade their school uniforms for professional dress and set their own schedule, the traditional photo shoot on the last Monday of the school year, the early end to the academic year and the days of graduation practice leading up to the graduation day itself. My heart hurts so much for them because they would have enjoyed all of those traditions so much. It saddens me that I can't give that to them.  And then there's the class trip. . .

Another photo of my room, taken today. You can see the special desks with the comfy office chairs for the class president and class treasurer at the back of the room near the cabinet where they kept their snacks for fundraisers.

What about Hawaii? The CAA 8th grade class blasted through all previous class fundraising records, both on a whole-class and individual level. We've had such a beautiful outpouring of support by our community. By the time their year came to a sudden end they had banked thousands of dollars and were well on their way to achieving what seemed impossible at the start of the year--an 8th grade class trip for all 23 of them and eight chaperones to the paradise of Hawaii. And now? We have a tentative plan for a rescheduled trip from July 21 to 26 (right after a rescheduled graduation ceremony on Sunday, July 19).  That's the latest possible time we can take the trip before many of them begin their freshman year of high school. But right now, that 's all it is. An idea. We have no clue whether we'll actually be able to take the trip then.  Even if the travel restrictions and  advisories are lifted, the virus has been contained, and it is safe to go I fear we won't have the whole class. I worry that there will be parents who remain anxious despite reassurances from public officials, who conclude that it's just too late and feels too risky.  And even if we have the support of all the families, how many will we lose because there just isn't enough time to raise the remaining funds? Sure we raised thousands, but we needed to keep doing that. Our fundraising came to an abrupt halt right along with their school year. And how difficult will it be to fund raise while millions are unemployed and the economy is in shambles? What seemed like a long shot at the beginning of the year feels even longer now. I haven't given up. I can't. Not yet.  But there's a part of me that's in mourning already.

I don't have a bright side to all that has been lost from the unfathomable to the irreplaceable, big and small. Sometimes it's okay to just sit and grieve whatever paradise we might have lost. For now, I'm allowing the loss to be what it is.

Here's the numbers: I predicted 486,168 cases in the United States by today. The actual number is 463,394, an increase of 27%. I predicted 16,825 deaths and I only missed the mark by 137, with the actual death toll at 16,688, an increase of 56%. Assuming the rate stays the same (which it shouldn't), I would predict the total number of cases to rise to 588,510 by Easter Sunday and our deaths will reach 26,033.  These losses are staggering and it's important not to let the numbers numb us to the reality everyone represents a hole in an American family.

At the state level:
Florida: The number of cases rose 23% to 16,819, 0.08% of the population. The number of deaths rose 46% to 370, a rate of 2%. Florida remains in the top ten hardest hit states that it is currently at it's best standing since I began keeping track, at 8th place.
Ohio: The number of cases rose 24% to 5,512, 0.05% of the population. The number of deaths rose 50% to 213, a rate of 3.9%. Ohio is currently 17th in the nation for number cases.
Nebraska: The number of cases rose 36% to 594, 0.03% of the total population of the state. The number of deaths rose 67% to 15, a rate of 2.5%. Nebraska has inched its way up out of the bottom ten is now 37th in the nation.