The first glorious signs of autumn and back to school in a pandemic (with just a little uncertainty).

As the first chilly nights arrive in stark contrast to our endlessly sunny summer, I have that "going back to school" feeling.  Leaves are starting to show the beginnings of autumnal colours, the evenings suddenly feel darker and I'm wearing warm layers again.  For two decades I've worked in primary schools, so the childhood feeling that we might associate with the start of September has been long extended.  I would normally be planning work, filling in my new academic year diary and bracing for the impending INSET days.  By the second week of September, I would typically have my year mapped out with dates, holidays, meetings and targets all neatly highlighted in yellow.  Nothing in life is entirely predictable, but working in a school gives a huge amount of structure to a year ahead which has always felt reassuring.

I hadn't exactly planned on a redundancy but decided to make the most of an enforced break to focus on improving my health, dealing with the aftermath of multiple bereavements and having energy to cope with my father's cancer and final move into a care home.  I struggled to take even a week off to deal with the bereavements at the time, so now two years later this is almost comical that I still don't have any concrete "plans".  Still, this time has felt precious, less pressured than most of the rest of my life and mostly a relief.  If I had been able to see myself back then, ill with severe shingles, barely able to walk to the kitchen or lie down comfortably for six weeks, I would kindly say, this break was also necessary.

However, I hadn't planned to welcome a pandemic into my life, right in the middle of this rather longer break than intended.  Now as I look at my diary for the autumn, it is the opposite of my old life as a teacher and pre-pandemic world.  Mostly things are in pencil if at all, with just further possibilities swirling around.  Things that might happen in person, on Zoom or not at all.  I keep reassuring myself that this is good practice, to live more in the present moment and practise accepting the unknown, but sometimes I just want to yell, "I'm fed up with this all" and "I HATE UNCERTAINTY".  

My endless patience is wearing thin, taking only a small thing to cause irritation.  I finally found out that one of my yoga classes will be able to start back in person, to which I felt like skipping around the kitchen in celebration.  And when I saw it isn't for three more weeks, my joy turned to irritation... haven't I already waited for 5 months I ranted, why can't it just start soon?  Real life, in person events still feel like some mirage on the horizon of a desert, that I keep walking towards in hope and desperation for some human shared activity.

As autumn starts to creep in, we unfortunately have more uncertainty ahead.  I am taking some deep breaths, along with millions of parents, teachers and children alike, as schools are about to re-open this week.  None of us actually know the impact of returning all children back to school full-time, but never mind, let's do it anyway and see?  As a teacher, I definitely think children need to get back to school and into a routine, but the issue is how exactly can this be done safely and in a way that is sustainable. Having read about the impact of re-opening schools in South Korea, Hong Kong and Australia, a more flexible approach has so far been needed with some secondary schools returning to on-line learning for a period.  Just imagine the responsibility that schools feel, with the challenges of testing whether a child has a cold, flu or coronavirus as we head into the germ filled snuffly season.  But what is the alternative, to keep children still at home?  

Many professionals and parents are rightly concerned about the emotional well-being of children remaining at home for this long.  Although, some children have thrived with home-learning and being able to study without the pressure on.  This was backed up by a recent research project found that the stress levels of a number of teenagers actually went down during May this year compared to being at school last October.  One thing is for sure, that opening schools this week will be unlike any other September that we've known and there will be definitely a lot of mixed feelings ahead for all involved.

While I was searching for some wisdom for these more fractured pandemic times, I was inspired when out picking blackberries recently.  It is one of my simplest pleasures, to collect then make blackberry and apple crumble.  Even the aroma of blackberries cooking fills me with happy memories of my grandmother who passed on both her love of nature and cooking to me.  As I was searching for the last remaining blackberries, I was struck by the variety of colours and ripeness of berries on each plant.  I noticed other autumnal berries and saw this rainbow like variation too.  Even on the same plant, in the same patch of soil with the same amount of sunshine, berries ripen differently. 

As we take another step towards getting back to normal, just as the berries show us, we will all be at different stages in our "ripeness".  Some of us are bursting with enthusiasm to go back to school, get back to work, fly overseas for a holiday and try to forget about the pandemic as much as possible.  Others like myself remain much more cautious, treading our own path more carefully and only doing what we evaluate to be okay.  Some children will be relaxed about returning to school while many others will feel some level of anxiety and reluctance. 

And then there are further variations, those distinctly green unripe berries or those overly ripe that squish if you try to pick them.  I know of friends' older parents with health issues who remain mostly house bound and not able to enjoy the easing of lockdown rules.  At the other extreme, others are busy protesting against the use of face masks or against the whole pandemic as a hoax (seriously?).  It all feels rather unsettling to me and in some ways I miss the simplicity and collective response during lockdown.  I find myself feeling judgemental about people's more relaxed ways, but equally I feel frustrated at times with my own cautious path.  But rather than judging, I am attempting to be more accepting of our diverse ways of enduring a pandemic.

The hardest part is living with a pandemic for far longer than any of us imagined.  Five months of coronavirus news is more than enough.  I really wish the pandemic would stop now.  The longevity of this "marathon not a sprint" is tough.  Who would have thought by September we would still be thinking about coronavirus, weighing up decisions alongside daily case numbers?  As the schools re-open I share concerns about what will happen to the R number now and will our "world beating" track and trace system work well enough? 

And then I bring myself back to "today" before my mind can leap ahead months to work out what may happen... Steering my mind towards the things that remain constant and steady helps.  I will remember to enjoy the amazing September sunsets, to enjoy the chilly sea as I swim each day and to look forward to more delicious blackberry and apple crumbles.  Much still remains familiar and steady and life really is okay, even with some uncertainty in the background.  

"If uncertainty is unacceptable to you, it turns into fear. If it is perfectly acceptable, it turns into increased aliveness, alertness, and creativity"  (Eckhart  Tolle)