A click of a button. That is all it takes to start a normal school day in the pandemic-torn world we live in. The school day begins the same way every day, where getting to class consists of opening up my computer and logging on to Zoom. With a click of a button, I navigate the link and wait to be let into a classroom with no doors or windows, a classroom that exists only online. I stare at the bright screen of my computer with dreary eyes and see a single face staring back at me. It’s my advisor in a sea of blank rectangles and profile pictures. I sink back into bed and tune into class as she drones on about new announcements she has but there isn’t anything exciting enough to make me sit up. My eyes drift to a smaller screen and I take the chance to glance over at my phone. At the top of the screen is the date, Friday, March 12th. Tomorrow marks one year since the last time we were in person at school. 365 days since I sat in my assigned seat, in a classroom where I could see the people I was interacting with. 365 days since I had lunch with my friends and joked around with them without the limitations of being behind a screen. 365 days since the last normal day before we were plagued by the pandemic. 

The entire week leading up to the shutdown was one of loud whispers and anticipation in huddled groups around campus. Every group of students seemed to be saying, “Did you hear that they are shutting down schools because of Covid? Is our school closing? What happens now?”  Answers of which we waited on edge to hear. It was the end of quarter three of my sophomore year of high school and I was just about done with a majority of my assignments. I could see a lot of seniors coming to terms with the cancelation of prom and a lot of anxiety around the senior events following the same path. I couldn’t say the same for me. It was the time of year where my motivation levels were low and I was in much need of a break for that extra boost to finish off the school year. Hearing that school closures were up in the air was a breath of fresh air after being holed up inside but at the same time, it was like I was slowly heading toward a dark tunnel with a faint light at the end that always seemed out of reach no matter how much I ran. I didn’t know just how long the tunnel would be. It turns out that this pandemic would impact us to the extent that the whole world was tilted off its axis and our sense of normalcy pushed right off its surface. 

I was never one to believe in superstition but Friday, March 13th, 2020, changed that for me. That morning it was announced that our school is shutting down, two weeks shy of spring break. Who wouldn’t love more time off? It was exciting getting to have an early spring break because it rarely happens. But it was only supposed to be three weeks. A few days later, I was laying in bed past noon and that was when it started to hit home that we weren’t going back, at least not soon. Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. Covid-19 cases were rising at an alarming rate and I felt like I was a spectator watching everything unfold, going through the motions of life without really living it. I remember leaving school for the last time and visiting Ms. Patel in the middle school with my friends, as we often did after long days. We didn’t say goodbye, it was more of a see you later. With a smile and a wave I yelled, “Enjoy your break!”, I left and didn’t look back. As I walked out of the gates, just as they were closing up for the day, I thought nothing of it. The closed umbrellas and empty benches never stayed that way for long. I was sure as the sun rose that we would not be separated for long. Now I long to go back to school and spend hours after school catching up with my friends and with the teachers. Leaving as the sun begins to set and darkness paints the afternoon sky.

With the restrictions set in place to stop the spread of the pandemic, a lot of the activities I was involved in were postponed indefinitely or moved online. This includes going to taekwondo classes at the dojang, which had practically been my second home. For the first two months of the pandemic, I remember taking frequent walks with my family because I had so much free time and nothing to prioritize. When adjusting to distance learning, I remember feeling lost for several reasons, especially since I suddenly switched from being always busy to having so much free time that I must have watched weeks’ worth of shows and movies in the span of a few days. In late May, my taekwondo school started providing online classes for the time being so that students could keep up with making progress. A few weeks later, I was invited to go back to work in the office and keep up with parent-student relations. My parents were worried at first but of course, I wanted to go back. Having that sense of normalcy helped to restore the community, but more importantly, it gave me something to look forward to. My experience is mirrored in that of my cousin, Janezza’s, however, her experience applies to performing arts. She was a star on the stage and pulled long nights to rehearse for productions such as the fall musical, spring show choir set, and competition season. A true dancing queen who we never got to see as the main lead. These experiences are just another thing the pandemic robbed us of. 

The last big taekwondo demonstration I performed in was at our school’s annual board-breaking fundraiser which has happened every year for the past 20 years. All except for this year. The feeling of adrenaline coursing through my veins as I aim to do my best, kick high, break the boards, and move quickly. The eyes of parents, students, and community members watch with excitement and admiration for the next cool trick that the kids can’t wait to try. It’s the feeling of exhilaration as she belts the final note. Singing and dancing her heart out on stage to the audience who watches this display of art with eyes full of amazement and pride. That’s how it was supposed to be. Disappointment was a common feeling for me during the pandemic and I found myself laying in bed as if I could close my eyes and escape. I spent nine long years practicing taekwondo to have my third-degree black belt test online in a space that was too small and much too lonely. My cousin is graduating this year and by the way things are looking, she may not have the full graduation experience. We’ve been dealt a lot of losses over the past year that sometimes it seemed easier to stop running towards the light and stay in the darkness. This year was different and it wasn’t just these big events in my life, it was also missing out on all these shared experiences. It was missing out on Christmas, on Thanksgiving, on birthdays, and all the in-betweens. It was missing out on sharing snacks with my friends and walking around bothering teachers during lunch. It was missing out on group activities in class and seeing the faces of my classmates. It was missing out on hugs, seeing smiles, and having human interactions without having a bad connection being your biggest obstacle. 

What I’ve come to understand is that these feelings are valid and that it's understandable to be upset.  Although the celebrations aren’t the real thing, the feelings are real. The pride is real. The support is real. The love is real. It is more than enough that my loved ones are safe and healthy and that I can see them even if it's through a screen. To remind myself that this is only temporary, that we will be able to make more memories, that there is time. But there isn’t. High School is coming to an end. Soon enough our time will be gone like toilet paper at the start of the pandemic! But, all we really can do is keep walking toward the light at the end of the tunnel, and hope for the future. It is Friday night as I look around the room at my friends on the couch bundled in blankets. The lights are dim as we pass around the snacks and crack jokes as the movie plays on the big screen. It is a clear and sunny day as I see my cousin stand and walk the stage at graduation. She smiles brightly as she waves to us, diploma in hand and head held high. All I know is that I plan to make the most of my time especially when I am with my family or friends. 

It’s 10:00 AM  on Friday, March 12th. I tune back into the Zoom meeting just as our advisory comes to a close. I type, “Byeeeee, have a good weekend!” in chat. With a click, the school day is over. I take a deep breath and lie still as warmth spreads throughout my face like good news in a pandemic as the sun peeks through the blinds. I draw the covers back and crawl out of bed. It’s a new day and I am going to make the most of it.