Missing School

Lily misses school.

She says that her other friends get to play with their siblings.

Dublin’s not quite ready yet to reaaaally play.

He only travels outside his world for small minute intervals, joining our world if he is really interested in what we are doing.

She wants to play with her parents at least.

Her parents have full-time jobs.

It’s tough to squeeze in quality clocks.

The bummer for me is, which isn’t an overwhelming bummer, but is a bummer none the less is that I know as a student, as a teacher, and as an observant parent that schools are often spaces of liberation for most of us—a space for us to try on new identities and exist outside our troubles at home.

When I went to college, I remember thinking I could try on any hat I wanted to with my new friends without the fear of them ever knowing the shame I felt about my origins.

Lily doesn’t miss school because of shame.

She loves her family; we are awesome—duhski.

I suspect though that she misses school because school has been this space where she doesn’t have to wear the responsibility of being a concerned sister and daughter.

She is the comedian that lightens our blows.

She is the counselor who checks in on our feelings.

She is the ultimate caretaker to both her brother and parents.

As I write this post, I wonder what liberatory mental spaces this virus took from our students. How pent up they must feel in a house with the people they live with. Whether they are in elementary or in college, whether they love and feel safe in their home and with its cohabitants, taking away their mental home place that they have created on their own by reading, writing and co-existing with the larger world outside of their residences, for some may feel like the earth is stripping away their ability to feel truly free.

On the other hand, I’m 100 percent sure Dublin feels liberated by his new academic environment! He—don’t—need—no—education…teacher, leave that boy alone!