The Joy of Being Back at School
Six months ago, I could not have imagined that Browning would be a place where the dress code would require masks instead of neckties, where boys would be sequestered into homerooms with their own protective barriers, and where the joys of handshakes, choral performances and team sports would be replaced by the sterility of hand sanitizer, staggered drop-offs, and unidirectional staircases.
And I certainly could not have imagined how happy that place would make me.
Our faculty and staff worked incredibly hard this summer in planning and preparing for September 9, of course, but none of us could know for certain what the experience would be like when we opened our school doors last Wednesday. And, to be sure, our first week has had moments of needed adjustment, as all of us–faculty, families, and boys alike–are still learning to curtail old habits, adopt new routines, and manage processes that have added necessary but challenging complications to our days. To be sure, there is nothing easy about coming to school during a pandemic.
“Our return to in-person learning has felt so meaningful, so joyous, as the feedback of both boys and teachers testifies. ”
But despite its imperfections and challenges–or perhaps because of them–our return to in-person learning has felt so meaningful, so joyous, as the feedback of both boys and teachers testifies. Much has been made, understandably, about how in-school participation this year differs from years past, and there seemed a real risk that the constraints placed on all of us would result in an antiseptic, moribund slog for everyone involved. At Browning, though, we have seen the effects of proximity and the centrality of relationships carry us through our first week and a half together; indeed, what has been most notable in our nascent days has not been what pandemic restrictions have taken from us, but what has been reaffirmed in our community identity, which is the primacy of in-person human connection and care. Masks and barriers and movement limitations are time and again outmatched by the heart of our school’s ethos, our commitment to knowing and challenging and loving boys in ways which are not just planned and observable, but responsive and felt. At its best, the Browning experience retains an irresistibly loving, spiritual dimension, and that quality–animated by the meeting of enthusiastic boys and generous faculty–has been palpable since the school year began.
Our present euphoria is not, of course, an excuse for self-satisfaction. We have to keep working to give our fully-online boys as much community connection as our in-person learners are feeling. We have to stay vigilant in maintaining healthy social distance and mask protocols. We have to find creative ways to engage our boys, who may find themselves wishing for a cafeteria lunch or non-virtual group meeting or the chance to be in a favorite teacher’s classroom. We have to stay supportive of our friends and colleagues for whom this is a particularly anxious or trying period. And we have to stay ready to adapt to a different learning modality, should we see change in the viral conditions within our pods, our school, or our city at large.
These imperatives for continued attention and improvement, however, should not, must not dim whatever senses of hope, gratitude, and possibility that we currently have. Even if our coming together in person proves temporary, it decidedly matters that we have done so. It is an achievement–and I think that the word is appropriate–that could only be managed by calling upon the best parts of our community: The curiosity, energy, and openness of our students; the expertise, selflessness, and innovation of our faculty and staff; and the patience, generosity, and trust of our families. These are the ways in which we have found ourselves in a place of common good and purposeful activity, and it has been a remarkable way to open our year. We have met this moment, and let’s keep doing all that we can to make it better, and to allow it to endure.