When I ruptured my Achilles’ tendon, I had about the smoothest medical experience one can have. I ruptured it on a Sunday. I had an appointment Monday first thing. I had surgery on Friday. Everything went as well as it could, no complications. I woke up from surgery and voila! I was on my way to recovery.
A perk of being a native Kansas Citian, in the medical field, I {sort of} knew the anesthesiologist. The surgeon came highly recommended by his partner, who happened to also be my friend. I laughed in the pre-op area with the nurse, because she went to my high school and we knew each other, plus many mutual friends. My comfort level in my care could not have been higher. But, I’ll tell you what. Even with the best case scenario for every single step of my path to recovery...the whole thing SUCKED. Do not recommend.
I cried briefly in the Pre-op room. It’s lonely, and isolating. They don’t allow your loved one back, and I had to strip down and sanitize my body. Waking up from anesthesia is the worst (for me anyway). My blood pressure is all over the place, as is my consciousness, and man! Did my ankle HURT. If you follow me at all on social media, you know I whined for weeks. Weeks and weeks and weeks. Months really. If you know me in real life, you got more whining, in the form of texts. Emails. Conversation. It was miserable. I was miserable. My husband was miserable. Again, do not recommend.
In all this whining, I don’t think it ever once occurred to the surgeon that my agonizing. My displeasure in my current life and situation. My new and awful personal hardships...had ANYTHING to do with him and his surgery performance. Why would it? How could it? He didn’t force me to play pickle ball in shitty tennis shoes the day after a holiday spent standing in wedges. He didn’t have anything to do with me being fat and out of shape. Nor is he old enough to have anything to do with my genetic make up, that might have precluded me to such a fate. He’s just the guy with the skills who is trying to help me make it through this patch.
So, why, I ask, are teachers taking anything parents say about how difficult, awful and life-altering virtual or hybrid learning is, personally? Did they create this virus? Did they shut down the schools? Are they the reason we parents are stuck home trying to suffer through our careers while herding our children?
Because, as far as I can tell, they are the surgeons. Trying to make the best of this horrendous and impossible situation. They are the ones altering their plans to try and educate our children. They are on call, working around the clock, constantly having to maneuver through this. Some of them are parents themselves! Muddling through both sides. They are the trained professionals in which we entrust a huge part of our children’s’ future. And though, not unlike my surgery, the process is painful and long and unforgiving through this disaster of a year, we know it must be done. And frankly, because I complain about everything, I’m going to complain about the most difficult moments. The quarantining, the electronics failures, the emails. Oh my. ALL THE EMAILS.
Parents and teachers are a team. We must be. We always should have been. We actually have the exact same goal. And the administration has the toughest job of all...trying to keep everyone safe. Educated. Maybe even happy (content might be a better word). We all have a common enemy, and it’s a pandemic. Literally every member of this team is on edge. Has been since March. Nearly a year.
So, I implore everyone, parents and teachers alike, to take a step back. And a deep breath. And realize, we are in this together. Like it or not. And it sucks.
