Education was what brought me to Washington, DC and education helped keep me there. I was thrilled to be teaching in our nation's political center. I had endless public resources at my disposal to teach social studies. The teaching salaries were high enough to not require a second job. Outside of work I had access to the arts, diverse food, and museums. Most importantly, DC had something my home-state of New Hampshire didn't: mild winters.
Then came the COVID-19 pandemic. Like the majority of the country, my life was upended by the changes in public health, the economy, and human interaction. I was fortunate to have access to food and was thankful I'd bought plenty of toilet paper back in January. But I was worried about the future. A job offer for the upcoming school year was rescinded due to budget cuts. Grad school had left me with little to no savings. I wasn't getting the PUA payments. Trying to find a new teaching position was difficult. I was not on a sustainable trajectory.
Throughout the pandemic stay-at-home orders I watched as many of my friends packed up their belongings and returned to their home-states. All of them had been unemployed or were recent grads struggling to find work as unemployment rates rose. They were moving in with or near family members. In the early days of the pandemic in North America, my parents had offered to let me stay with them. I turned them down. I loved my apartment. I loved Washington, DC. I loved teaching. But by July, my determination had wavered. I called my brother, who was planning on coming to DC in mid-August to help me move to a new apartment, and asked if he could help me sooner. Five days later, both my brothers helped me clear out my apartment and drove me, my dog, and all my belongings up to New Hampshire.
During my two week quarantine after arriving in New Hampshire, I was mourning the abandonment of the life I knew and loved. I hadn't planned on moving north for at least another decade. I was struggling to find joy. The news is full of tragedy and I worry for my former colleagues who are expected to be teaching in-person this fall. But once the two weeks of quarantine came to an end, I was no longer feeling sorry for myself. I can regularly see my family who I hadn't seen in seven months. I get to see friends who I've missed terribly. I'm able to sit outside because I'm not hit with the DC humidity. And soon I'll be able to see the leaves change and be present for a New Hampshire autumn. My life is no longer heading in the direction I had planned and it's okay to be disappointed. But I am also excited for what might come next. The nation is currently full of chaos and loss. I am choosing to look for the joy in my immediate circumstances and save my mourning for those who have been taken by the pandemic.
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