The Covid Crisis - Coming to a School Near You

I am dropping my daughter back at school, when I see the windows in two classrooms are firmly shut. So much for Covid-prevention. I make a note to email the headmistress. 

Photo-  Andy Buchanan  

Last night, I got a private message on social media from an old friend who is a secondary teacher. ‘Brace yourself,’ she said. "I caught Covid a month ago and it spread to most of my pupils…and their parents’. 

After 4 weeks, my friend still has trouble breathing. She feels a heavy pain on her chest. Her GP sent her to the hospital with an irregular heart rhythm, to check for blood clots. Long Covid is now on her notes. She is frightened. 

 

Before all this, she was a fit 35-year-old. She tells me, teachers sign a contract not to discuss schools on social media. Photos of drinking wine at a party are frowned upon. Teachers telling Twitter they are appalled at the lack of in-school mitigation against Covid in isn’t going to sit well with employers. Secretly, staff rooms are ‘aghast’. 

 

I know what that feels like, because I’m a parent, who also feels ‘aghast’. I suffered 22 years of acute disability with a diagnosis of ME/CFs, from age 18 to 40. It all started with a sudden virus. I was bed-bound and wheelchair bound for years, in acute pain and ‘brain fog’. I’ve been recovered for 10 years now.  I don’t take a day of that for granted.

 

2020 brought us Covid. A risk we all share, some more than others.  During the first wave, our family were able to isolate in lockdown. Although frustrating and frightening, our risk was low. We were the lucky ones, privileged to work-from-home. That semi protection ended when schools returned. Our two children went back, full of excitement and purpose to primary and secondary schools.

 

‘There is NO social distancing in school. None!?’ admits my 10-year-old daughter. Teachers are now frontline heroes in my mind. They do their best inside the classroom, but the free-for-all in the playground and around school gates is glaring. Even if the kids are in ‘bubbles’, 30 is a pretty big bubble. 

 

Meanwhile, at school lunch hour, our corner shop is crowded with anoraked teenagers, not wearing masks, bunched together on the pavements, like penguins in the Antarctic. Kids are not expected to wear masks in class. My son says, ‘only one or two’ do. Kids lean in close to share memes on their phones. 

 

All of this leads to a grinding feeling of inevitability. Are school-age families just waiting for the Covid clusters to arrive –exactly as they did with Universities? Will the virus clobber and disable many parents, just as it clobbered my teacher friend, who can’t even speak out about her experience, for fear of losing her position?

 

I feel as if I am in a minority. Even my own family are much more ‘que sera.’ Trust in the schools, they say. It’s worth the risk. A friend is ‘very happy to drop kids at the school gate’ and I shouldn’t make myself ill with worry. 

Technically, I could try to home school my kids. I know a few mums who have done this, but it’s not what my kids want, and I get that. Of course, I’d rather have confidence that they were safer in school.

 

What would ‘safer’ look like? 

 

Many scientists are emphatic that only a full UK lockdown will reduce case numbers now. Personally, and on behalf of public health, I would welcome a reset / fire break lockdown for a few weeks. 

 

For those who make understandable pleas for mercy on the economy, I hear that pain, but surely lower numbers of circulating Covid are the only way to bring confidence back into the economy? When hospitals are overwhelmed, it’s time for the brakes. 

 

If community transmission is finally lowered via lockdown, schools could be re-opened and made safer by measures such as smaller class bubbles, mandatory masks in class and increased ventilation (HEPA air filters, proven to lower transmission are less than £100).

 

Acknowledgement is needed of the growing science of aerosol spread. The two-meter rule is shown to be outdated and insufficient. Blended or part-time learning for older teenagers could be utilised.

 

I say this as a one-parent, keyboard warrior, at the risk of annoying people. I feel like I embody a Told-You-So, just waiting to happen. Few people are taking this seriously enough. I think the Scottish Government are getting many things right in this battle, but they are getting schools wrong. They got Universities wrong. 

 

My teacher friend ended her chat by saying – ‘Just know you’re totally right on this, and it’s mental more people don’t get it.’

 

I just pray they ‘get it,’ before they get Covid. 

 

 

 

Rally your Inner Spirit for Halloween

 I've just heard Nicola Sturgeon hint that Halloween will have to be restricted. 

In a moment of heart-tug,  the First Minister of Scotland rallied by saying, if there are any kids watching, 'Santa is a Key Worker, and he'll have to get through.' 

It was similar to a moment of pathos, at breakfast. I told Tess I had to speak on Radio Scotland about the Covid coverage. Occasionally they invite me on as 'Mum of two and Blogger.'

Tess commented - 'You always try and hide the news from us, mum, but you don't need to, because it can't get any sadder! It's at Peak Sad!' 

She must have watched me turn away to spread tuna on a pack-lunch bagel.

What's that face, Mum? Mum?! The It-can-get-sadder face? 

I had to rally and say, 'Well yes, ...who knows whatever the future holds, but we'll have the inner spirit to get through it! Of course we will!' 

Tess is wise for her 10 years. She radiates faith. She raises my game. 

Avert your eyes from the sugary cookies. I'm about to get an introductory call from an online nutritionist. Tess's cough is still persisting and I think it's worth a try. 

I'm a believer in the potential of 'gut biome'  therapy, even though this kind of 'holistic care' is only available on the fringes of medicine. The theory is that long-term reflux harms the throat and the body needs rebalancing. All sounds so simple. I wish someone could tell us exactly how to achieve such a nirvana. 

Wish us luck and play Spot the Dog. Or howl at the moon, if that's your thing, on this, the scariest Halloween. 

Staying Human - Quite a Trick if You Can Pull it Off

 A decade ago, I  had a new job in a TV company that was falling apart. I didn't know it was falling apart; it became more evident as the weeks rolled by. 

The boss looked like Bill Clinton, or at least, Bill Clinton with more personal problems and a bandaged hand. 

Meanwhile, I had a baby boy kicking inside my belly. 

I wrote a poem about that intense time, and I'm chuffed to have the poem published in this amazing Bloodaxe poetry anthology. What an honour! These anthologies have inspired me for years. 

Honestly, I can't leaf through one, without loads of the poems giving me the shivers, and I think, if only I could write one like that. Now, I can officially die happy. 

Unless, of course, I die of Corona Virus. I won't be happy, at all. What a mess we are all in. 

Quick - look at that rainbow! Note to self : Distract yourself from Planetary Disaster and the lure of the Twitter Doom-scroll.

My best distraction is still the daily dog-walk. Who knew it was a form of meditation for those who don't want to sit crosslegged chanting Ommm? The Wellies are put to good use. I feel like a farmer, tending my fields. Look - this is Glasgow!

And this is Bumcheek. The kids call her Bumcheek when she is being 'naughty'. Or being 'Bum-Cheeky'.  It's become an adjective now.  Someone's been editing photos on my phone. 

Here we go for the October Break. In terms of Covid Risk,  it's a temporary relief having schools shut for the holiday. We don't have any plans, beyond dog-walks, popcorn, Netflix and Nonsense. It's enough. 

Life can be scary, but it's still abundant. And a bit Bum-cheeky. 

Stay Human, fellow Bum Cheeks. X