But I guess it's time to be presumptuous that you'll care what I think.
I'm keeping my child home for at least the first nine weeks of school. I could give you quotes and figures and scientific studies, but then it would seem as if I were trying to convince you that our family's choice should be your choice too. What's more, it might seem like I was judging you, which I am not. Mostly, I'm saying these things so others know they aren't alone in this choice. Thought it's likely that you are cut from the same cloth as me and aren't too concerned about the aspersions cast at you by others.
There are parents out there who need to send their child back to a physical classroom. There are students who need the physical classroom. I don't have a regular job that requires me on premises. I currently have zero event contracts and am not teaching yoga anywhere. My child is a fairly easy learner, save for the scourge of elementary school known as multiplication, so sitting at home to learn with me as an aide does not present any insurmountable challenges. It's a time when I can use my privilege as a mostly stay-at-home mom to actually help others and remove my child from an already burdensome situation. This also removes him as a vector for contagion.
And if I am being honest, I am actually concerned about what Covid might look like in my own body. I'm young and healthy and take good care of myself, but my experiences with illness haven't been good this year. I started out January 1 with the flu, and it made me sick in a way that was terrifying at times. In my usual hit-it-hard great work ethic, I was back to teaching multiple classes before I recovered, and was still trying to take classes on the side to work towards fulfillment of requirements for my RYT certification. (Which I'm currently dragging my feet on... oof) Following a cold camping trip I contracted bronchitis and strep, which hit me hard. I had a significant falling out with someone I had come to think of as a friend during that time, while a design project spiraled out of control. All of those things combined to leave me sicker than I've been since 2016, when overtraining left me laying on the couch for months at a time.
A couple of weeks after treatment for strep, in the midst of the foggy exhaustion that plagued me for most of April, I woke one morning and couldn't taste or smell anything. Leading up to this, I had been suspicious the antibiotics had not completely killed off the strep, and had other strange symptoms alongside, like pain in my armpits and dry eyes. Of course, I was tested for covid. I felt sicker as the day went on, and hunkered down in the bedroom and even made Luna, my very fluffy cat, stay out. The next morning I received a call saying my results were negative - huge relief - and returned to urgent care. We ended up retreating my strep, and I was feeling much better by that night. I still struggle to smell little things, like a lip balm I regularly use, and don't really have any explanation.
Rightfully so, I'd like to avoid getting sick. I'm not willing to self sacrifice. Nor am I willing to risk my child's health - he's my only one, and we are casting our entire lot on him, all of our love. I want to avoid the risk of causing others to be ill, too. Facts and figures aside, my gut tells me that this time of discomfort is a way for our family to contribute to the greater good by continuing to limit our exposure to uncontrolled public gatherings. When disagreement led to the disbanding of a friendship, I told that person I wanted to get out of their way. I'm doing that now, too.
