“Haven’t seen you for awhile. How are you?” I asked.
“Uh…I was sick. Didn’t feel well,” he replied, careful not to make eye contact.
When I completed a recent student teaching placement there were a number of one-week absences throughout the school. The responses were often similar to the one my student provided. The more vague the response the more suspicious I was. What else besides Covid-19 requires five days of self-isolation? This sense of needing to hide the reason for missing school, perhaps feeling guilty, evasive when pressed, was testament to the inconvenience and disruption parents underwent every time a family member was diagnosed positive. After two years of home schooling and lockdowns parents are in no mood to be tolerant.
“He’s what?“
“She’s positive?”
“They both have it?”
“Why did you even take the test?”
“I don’t care what the doctor said!”
“What about Gran’s 70th birthday this weekend?”
“Do I have to isolate?”
“I can’t miss work again!”
And so on.
Some of the teachers seemed to be hiding any evidence of illness, too. Coughs were supressed, but the speech tones of blocked sinuses were obvious despite being treated with extravagant doses of every non-prescription, over-the-counter medicine known to science. No one takes a day off due to a cold anymore. It’s an all or nothing high stakes gamble where admitting weakness is not an option.
Except for one student.
“I can’t do the work today,” he told me as I explained the day’s task. “I wasn’t here last week so I don’t understand what we’re doing.”
“Oh, that’s right,” I acknowledged. “You were gone last week.”
“I had Covid!” he gleefully exclaimed.
I involuntarily took a step back. I remember thinking the first day of my placement it would be a miracle if I didn’t get Covid. Was today the day my faith would be tested?
I didn’t run, I didn’t hold back. Everyone got the teaching and attention they needed, including ‘Mr-I-had-Covid.’ Faith had taken me this far so why stop now? And what was being a teacher if not one big leap of faith?