This is What It's Like to be a Post-Covid Teacher

Do you want to know what it's like to be a teacher right now? This is what it's like, exactly what it's like.

I am in a battle, one I didn't create, but one I allowed myself to be conscripted for.  I showed up a long time ago, naive, idealistic, eager to serve and help.  This is not what I signed up for.  Because I was optimistic, because I believed it was the right thing to do, and because I wasn't paying close enough attention, I ended up here.

In this battle, I am expected to aim and shoot at an unseen enemy.  It's not hard to do because I am being shot at, and I don't know why. 

It's dark and cold and wet and foggy. I am constantly under threat.  I am tired, my eyes bleary with fatigue. My adrenal system is on high alert all the time.  I can't sleep, my eating patterns are off. . .stress is life.  I just keep dodging and shooting, day after day.  I am exhausted.

All around me are people like me. I see them now and then through the misty air.  We grab furtive conversation. With quiet cliches and sidelong glances, we try to support and encourage each other as best we can, having each other's back to the extent that it's possible.  Collectively, we do what we are told and what is expected, even when we disagree.

Even though it's a terrible way to live, nothing changes.  It gets worse everyday. There is no end in sight.  

And then, for a brief moment, for the first time in a long time, I look up, and I see a glimpse of sunlight and tree leaves and blue sky.  As I stare a little more, I see an edge. It's smooth and circular, and next to the opening, dim but not hidden is a rope ladder.  As my eyes follow it down from the edge in the sky, I see that the ladder extends to my/ our level.

Quietly, hoping to stay undetected, I sneak through the dark, navigating obstacles and thick foliage, until I see the rope ladder. 

It's right there. I can grab it. 

If I am brave enough, I can drop my weapons and start climbing out.  To climb will leave me exposed - I could get seriously wounded or destroyed by the unseen enemies.  Equally terrible, I will also be ridiculed and despised by those in charge.  My fellow warriors will be confused and angry that I gave up, quit, and deserted, leaving them to carry on and fight.  

I am torn. I feel a sense of loyalty and duty, but then, I look up and see the inviting canopy above me, causing inexplicable relief.

What if I climb up, and it's not what I expected?  What if it's worse? 

If I stay, though, I know I will be destroyed eventually.  Even if the battle ends, what will remain? And with any war, when one battle ends, another begins.  

I have to decide.

Even though there are no guarantees, do I choose sunshine, to feel heat, to see leaves and trees and blue skies, or do I stay with what I know - safe and uncomfortable in the unsafe, uncomfortable but predictable circumstances? 

Even if I am shot dead when I get to the top, what's the difference? Staying where I am is just prolonging the agony.  I will eventually die here too.  

If you're not really living, aren't you already dead?  

I have a hand on the ladder.  I feel the coarseness of the twine.  I run my palm along the smooth, wooden step.  Two swift movements - another hand and a foot on the step - and I am on my way.  

All I need to do is decide to move.