Today's Marists V.6 Issue 1 FALL 2020

appreciate the small things in life, like
handshakes, hugs, conversations with
their friends, etc. Although it may sound
a bit pretentious or seem like a cliché, I
know that at least for me this pandemic
has made me appreciate other people
more. I’m naturally a bit reticent and
reserved, and before this pandemic I
oftentimes would kind of be a weensy bit
of a loner. I’m not saying one must always
be talking with other people, as it is ok to
sometimes be alone. I am fine with this
aspect of my personality. However, as
the quarantine grew longer and longer,
I really noticed how lonely I felt. My
friends and other people around me also
felt this same loneliness. One does not
appreciate the opportunities presented
to them until they are no longer there;
I think that this has been the case for
me, socially. Now, I’m more willing to
talk with people and connect with them
since I know how it feels to not have the
opportunity to do so.
Coping with New Circumstances
According to Grace Lorys, you hear about
pandemics in your history classes, but
actually finding yourself in the middle
of one is a little surreal. There are a few
things that can prepare a person for
complete isolation from everyone but
their family for months on end. Then
there’s the matter of going to school in
the midst of a rising number of virus
cases; imagining eating lunch 6 feet away
from friends, breaking through thick
layers of cotton and filters, and knowing
that none of it will end anytime soon
because classmates are going out on the
weekends and partying-most definitely
without masks and social distancing. In
elementary school, it was the kid in the
back of the classroom who would not
be quiet, preventing you from going to
recess. Now, it’s the 18-year-old going out
with his or her friends, preventing you
from living a normal life.
It’s nice to see people, don’t get me
wrong, but it’s different. I feel isolated
from my classmates - being yelled at
when I come within 4 feet of my friends is
difficult during senior year. Senior year.
I waited 6 years of my educational career
to get to this mark of adulthood, and it is
nothing like the stories say, thanks to the
kid going out without a mask. Of course,
this brings joys and challenges, namely
the spectacular level of innovation that
our teachers have shown. Sure, it’s easy
to just talk to their students and make
class as ordinary as possible (we sit,
they lecture), but if anything joyous has
come out of this pandemic, it is how well
I have learned to be resourceful from
the example set by my teachers. Half of
the time at school and half of the time at
home caused a learning barrier that the
teachers overcame with versatile lesson
plans and their comfort (though it might
be fake, it’s completely believable) with
the new environment. Everything is new
to us. It’s a learning process for all of us.
Coping with the new circumstances is
a feat beyond normal expectations. I
have taken up teaching myself piano as
a past time, channeling my occasional
frustration and exhaustion into a
performance that I can hear and share
with other people. That’s only my
approach, but people have done other
things…TikTok, knitting and coloring,
just to name a few. This whole “learning
in a pandemic” thing has taught me the
resourcefulness of humankind. I have
seen an increase in empathy, intelligence
and love for our neighbors despite
the isolation. That’s why I still have
patience for the kid who goes out on the
weekends, because I would do the same
if that was my way of coping. Everything
is new. Everyone is learning.
Hope is Not Lost for Amelia Humphrey
Click, clack the sound of my sweaty
fingertips smashes into my keyboard
trying to resolve the technical error that
has just appeared on my screen in the
middle of my test. My teacher is yelling
at me, but slowly becomes frozen due
to my lack of internet, and there I am
again, stuck while the screen reloads.
I eventually cave and move my sweaty
hands to form an apology email hoping
the teacher will understand that yes, my
Wi-Fi really is not working.
When I think of Marist, I am flooded
with memories of football games and
group exercises on the front field. This all
becomes a blur in this new school year
as I trudge through the halls wearing
my mask and staying six feet apart
from everyone, barely being able to
communicate a word. Yet, I am reminded
of our success as a school to remain open
and optimistic, and my emotions begin
to fade.
When I enter my classes, I am welcomed
by comforting teachers who risk their
own health to provide for others.
Teachers who not only accommodate
to all but continue to be a light to those
suffering from loneliness during this
unprecedented time. What used to be an
open-air arena of laughter in the arcade
area of St. Peter Chanel Hall is now a
spread of chairs spaced with moderators
in between. But hope is not lost.
Our Marist community continues to
prevail. Through celebrations of cross
country meets and streams of online
games - we continue to support each
other unconditionally, even when our
future is unknown. Although we may
now all need blue light glasses, we
“The pandemic may limit our ability to come to campus,
but we will not let it dampen our spirits.”
continue to participate and strive to do
our best in and outside the classroom.
The pandemic has brought less traffic, no
more cafeteria lines, and above all a new
fashion statement: masks. The pandemic
may limit our ability to come to campus,
but we will not let it dampen our spirits.
Education Amid a Pandemic – An
“Unprecedented Event”
For Camille de St. Aubin …. I am sure
everyone has heard that phrase more
times than they could count on their
fingers and toes. It is true that these
times of face coverings and social
distancing have never been experienced
in our 17- or 18-year lifetime. The
pandemic itself is associated with a lot
of loss - loss that should be mourned
and felt deeply. However, if not met with
a small glimmer of optimism each day,
that loss will swallow us whole.
The bleachers that once were home to a
cheering, joyful student section now sit
in reflection. The silence is eerie, and it
makes us uncomfortable. What used to
be is no longer. We forget that everything
follows that cycle of change; it is more
the abruptness of this change that pains
continues on page 20
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