As the school year approaches, I find myself in a whirlwind of emotions. In the past, I eagerly awaited this time, counting down the days until my home would return to its usual quiet, allowing me to focus without constant interruptions for snacks or complaints of boredom. This year, however, things feel different. Now, I’m consumed by fear.
Lying next to my son as he drifts off to sleep, I cherish the moments when he is safe at home, healthy and sound. Yet, unexpectedly, waves of dread wash over me at the oddest times. While preparing a simple peanut butter sandwich, a chill of terror surges through me. Just the other day, I had to pause, gripping the kitchen counter to steady myself.
I recognize that my feelings may come across as dramatic. Statistically, the most severe outcome this school year could be my child contracting COVID. I understand that even if they did get sick, the likelihood of survival is high. Sending my kids to school amid a pandemic is not equivalent to sending them into battle, yet it feels that way.
To give you some context, I have two sons. One is a fully vaccinated teenager, while the other is too young to receive the vaccine as he enters fourth grade. Last year, both boys were learning remotely, and our family faced the challenges of isolation. It was difficult for all of us, and their mental well-being certainly suffered. Nevertheless, with no vaccinations and a raging pandemic, staying home felt like the right choice.
In June, with my husband, my teenager, and I fully vaccinated and COVID numbers at a low, I felt optimistic about sending my kids back to school in September. Many adults and teens in our community had been vaccinated, and I had followed the school district’s efforts, noting their effective COVID protocols that had resulted in minimal in-school transmission.
At the start of summer, I was prepared to send my kids back, even my unvaccinated son. After a year at home, both boys were excited to return to school. I felt relieved knowing they would be safe.
However, my confidence has shifted. With the emergence of the Delta variant, COVID cases surged in my area, affecting even vaccinated individuals. Outbreaks at local day camps were reported, and alarming news emerged about children being significant spreaders of the Delta variant nationwide. My news feed filled with distressing images of kids in hospital beds, struggling to breathe, and reports of children who had tragically passed away. The thought of my child facing a similar fate is unbearable.
While I should appreciate that my children’s school district is taking the pandemic seriously—with universal masking, improved ventilation, distancing, and hygiene measures—Delta feels different. Its contagious nature makes it hard to trust that even the most stringent protocols will keep my kids safe.
Statistically, the chance of serious illness in children remains low, with reports indicating that less than 2% are hospitalized and an even smaller percentage face fatal outcomes. I know that most children recover swiftly, but the prospect of long-term symptoms is frightening. I’ve made the decision to send my kids to school in six days, including my unvaccinated son. After 18 months of limited social interactions, I feel that his mental health needs outweigh my concerns for his physical safety. My logical side reassures me about the precautions in place, yet emotions often overshadow reason when it comes to my children.
Currently, I am a bundle of anxiety, fluctuating between optimism and the urge to keep my kids indoors indefinitely. More than anything, I feel frustration over our societal response. Yes, COVID-19 is a virus that spreads, and yes, the Delta variant is extremely contagious. However, we possess numerous tools to mitigate its spread—vaccines and masks. Yet, many seem to have resigned themselves to inaction, allowing the virus to run rampant just as we prepare to send our children back to school, some for the first time since the pandemic began.
I find myself in a state of panic, as do many parents I know. It didn’t have to come to this. We could have prioritized our children’s safety, implementing masks and vaccines to reduce transmission until all kids could be vaccinated. But here we are, facing September with dread. It feels as though our children’s well-being is not a top priority.
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In summary, as the school year begins, many parents are grappling with intense emotions, ranging from fear and anxiety to anger about the current state of our society and the pandemic’s impact on our children’s education and health.
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