As many may know, I have had a difficult year, losing three family members: my mother, my sister, and my brother-in-law. Navigating an already painful pandemic with these unexpected challenges has been tough. Grief is an exhausting process that hits each of us in different ways. I personally do not subscribe to the five stages of grief model. I believe that the first four stages – denial, anger, bargaining, and depression – are neither sequential nor endured by all, but I would like to believe that acceptance is the final stage of grief and hope to get there myself.
Globally, we are all experiencing and reconciling grief. Our lives have dramatically changed. We have lost or deferred not only family life cycle events, such as graduations, weddings, and funerals, but also lesser yet still important events, like proms, homecoming games, and birthday parties. We have lost jobs and witnessed deaths. We have lost education, too . . . lots of education.
No matter where our children were enrolled in school, a pandemic education paled in comparison to a pre-pandemic education. In-person instruction was curtailed everywhere, even if limited to times when students and/or teachers had COVID exposure. Fear gripped most students and teachers, further complicating the educational process. While I am hopeful that life is slowly resuming some normalcy, we must take time to understand the losses that each of us incurred, including educational losses. We must process our grief.
This week’s Winston-Salem Journal led with a story on Monday, November 1, of educational deficits. The results documented “profound” pandemic learning losses, supported by statistical findings. The sheer size of these losses may have astounded some readers, but not me; indeed, I believe that the percentages failed to fully capture the incurred losses. Expectations and requirements for students were curtailed everywhere. Student access to teachers was limited. Public schools offered pass/fail options and did not even require work after March 2020 during the conclusion of that academic year. Grade inflation was, at times, absurd. While private schools generally offered a significantly better education, even in these schools, based on my personal observations, learning and expectations were compromised. I am not per se assessing fault or blame on the educators; the required adjustments were immediate and unanticipated, but every student sustained learning losses, and most students, in my opinion, should likely be retained for a year. In our fast-paced world where education is a race to the finish, I know that retention will not happen, but I believe that it likely should. We have reason to grieve.
Even grief, though, has positive benefits, and I am particularly reminded of its benefits during the month of November, as Thanksgiving approaches. With grief comes gratitude and responsibility. Grief realigns our priorities, enabling us to cling to our values and to focus on relationships in the here and now. Grief also reminds us that we bear responsibility: responsibility for ourselves, our happiness, and our needs, including, of course, our children’s education.
I am hopeful that this Thanksgiving we will appreciate in-person instruction, the opportunity to learn from and with others, and the folks that still sit at our dining room table. Life is short and is not so much about accomplishments but more about our personal journeys and those with whom we share them. I hope that we can all work to recognize and reconcile our losses over the last 18-plus months and that we can then find room in our hearts for gratitude and reflection.