by Blake DeYoung, the Associate Head of School at Bellevue Christian School
Let’s talk about these past ten months. A global pandemic with unimaginable upheaval to daily life. A(nother) Black death that jolts a nation towards self-examination, acknowledgement, and change. A toxic campaign and election season filled with uncertainty even as we look towards Inauguration. And now the holidays, disrupted and diluted by COVID-19.
We’re just trying to raise our kids with some sense of normal. Normal feels like water through our fingers.
This post is sponsored by Bellevue Christian School.
For me, the last ten months split neatly into Part 1 and Part 2. Part 1 was, simply, survive. We did OK. This was the overnight pivot to remote school, work-from-home, cancel your vacation, and learn to wear a mask.
Part 2 is adapt. Adapting stinks. Adapting is the sober realization that things are not going back to the way they used to be. Adapting is frustrating and exhausting. This is beyond survival. This is waking up to a new reality where we recognize the activity – school, shopping, dining, gathering with family – but we don’t recognize how we do it.
I’ve been thinking about nostalgia. Nostalgia comes from the Greek “nostos” (to return home) and “algia” (a painful condition).
Our nostalgia is almost certainly magnified by the holidays. So many meaningful rituals have been lost. We try to recreate these rituals – we try to adapt – but these perverse imitations only make us yearn more deeply for the old, authentic version. Trick-or-treating, family gatherings, the kids’ Christmas concert, Christmas Eve worship – we long for the way these things used to be, and we resent the way they are.
I work with teachers. Teachers are amazingly resilient, but they are terribly frustrated. A teacher’s life is built around rhythms and routines. We’ve done school a certain way for 150 years. As of March, that history means nothing. My school is open and in-person, but all schools are recreating their model in real time. There is no roadmap for what we are doing now.
The lack of a roadmap is going to result in some missed turns. It’s going to mean kids bickering in the backseat. It might mean running out of gas and having to sleep in the car.
But it also means that the natural instincts and attitude of the driver become incredibly important. It’s a chance to discover new ways of doing things, pulling off on the side of the road to study the foliage instead of just plowing down the interstate in a quest to get “there” as fast as possible.
We are all experiencing this as parents, as spouses, as workers, as friends. We feel nostalgia for the way things used to be and we long – painfully – for the return home. But right now, we can’t. We can mourn our loss or we can see the opportunity to think in new ways. We can choose exhaustion or exhilaration. I’ll choose exhilaration.
Judy Garland graced my drive the other day. She sang: From now on, all our troubles will be miles away…Here we are as in olden days, happy golden days of yore, faithful friends who are dear to us, gather near to us once more.
We’ll get there.
We invite you to call the Admissions Office today at Bellevue Christian School to find out more about how BCS might be the right fit for your family. Call (425) 460-3300 or apply online at bellevuechristian.org or email BCS at admissions@bellevuechristian.org. We are happy to setup a tour or tell you more about our special programs, Athletics, Arts and Academics. Bellevue Christian is excited to work alongside you to prepare your child to live faithfully for God.
