I’m thinking of spaces—distanced and farther. I’m thinking of NASA’s rover, Perseverance. In the midst of the pandemic, it launched in July 2020 and landed in February 2021. It, too, was in limbo or perhaps on a predisposed trajectory over seven months. So much can happen in so short a time. From Minnesota to Mars, I’ve felt like I’m rooted beneath an umbrella in Bradbury’s science-fiction story, “There Will Come Soft Rains,” because I’m teaching through a screen in a universe indifferent to life. I believe even summer and winter may not have remembered passing through.

It’s August. We are six months into the pandemic at this point, and fears are still high. I have just accepted my first job as a public school teacher in the city. I’m feeling every emotion under the sun. I’m excited to finally “make it”, finally graduate and land my dream job. I’ve known I landed the job since July so I’ve had about a month of anticipation, and lots of time to make my Pinterest perfect classroom. I took many trips to Lakeshore Learning center to gather plant borders, birthday wall stickers, and sight word world walls. Charlotte Mecklenburg Schools finally makes the call…

On March 13th, 2020, I told my third-grade students to clear out their desks and pack anything essential because we would have to stay home, for what we thought would be two weeks, to help prevent the spread of COVID-19. It was a Friday, the end of a particularly hectic week with a full moon, time change due to daylight savings, and change of the season. As we packed our belongings, the fear of uncertainty filled the room like a nimbus cloud, bigger than the ones we studied in our science unit. Two weeks became fifty-two, and we are still in the middle of the storm.