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The virus, which has taken more than 60,000 American lives, has left many in a state of despair.

A compilation of 7 poetic reflections on the 2020 COVID-19 crisis.

The Virus and His Twin

Lon Pringle, Social Studies teacher

The virus knows no geographic boundaries or geologic barriers. It transcends the highest mountain ranges, the deepest oceans, the greenest of valleys, and the bluest of skies. 

The virus cares nothing for political affiliations or parties, schools of thought or economic philosophies. It ignores all capitalists, socialists, and Marxists. The virus does not discriminate between rich and poor, it has no gender preferences, no sexual persuasions, and infects straight, gay, lesbian, trans, queer, and curious with pure equality.

The virus knows nothing about height, weight, eye color, or hairstyle. It could care less about national origin, education level, profession, marital status, or elected position. The virus cares nothing about where you live, your beauty, your confidence, your vanity, your insecurities, your strengths, your weaknesses, or your deepest fears, hopes, or dreams. 

It doesn’t know or care about family pets, memories, experiences, mom, dad, or great-uncle Rupert.

The virus knows no boundaries, no limitations, and no barriers. It is then, in the final analysis, pure. 

But as we take stock of the characteristics and behaviors of the virus, let us recall that there is something else in this most awesome, vast, and wondrous universe that behaves in much the same pattern, ignoring all boundaries, limitations, and barriers. 

It’s called love. Remember that!


So We Beat On, Boats Against the Current

Krista Hennessy-Jacks, English teacher

We reverberate between cautiously optimistic

And ever-so-slightly terrified.


                I have never been one to so easily accept my own mortality.


We tear up so easily at the good people and the good news we see.

And, yet, we feel so utterly disheartened and defeated by waves of helplessness.


The unfairness of things:

Those who are dying.

Those who don’t have access.

Those without care or concern for others, (doing anything else but what they ought).


                I have never been one to accept defeat too easily.


When we see milestone moments cancelled or put on hold, we try to remember why…


WE                      KEEP                      OUR               DISTANCE.


We battle on… so we can keep it together, just when we feel as if we’re falling apart.

So we can remember that we are a sum total MORE THAN  merely ourselves.

So we can ALL be accounted for once this is     O    V    E    R….


                I have always been relentlessly optimistic, though it’s a bit harder now.


But, I find that it’s a battle I keep fighting each morning, each setback, each dark moment:

When I feel like time is moving interminably slow… and yet we all  are LOSING so much time.


Social Distancing

Margot Pilling, 9

“How are you?” 

The question that gets asked less and less. 

“Okay.” (But I’m not.)

I feel it all.

The pain, the mourning, 

The sudden silence that came on like a summer storm,

The weight of the world’s despair. 

I feel complicated things because I am a complicated person. 

We all are.

I am not bored because I have nothing to do. 

I am bored because I have nowhere to be, 

No social life to navigate,

Nothing unique to say,

Because everybody has been leveled down to the same game.

Like a freshly mown lawn. 

We are no longer important; we are just obstacles to those who are. 

And so we wait. 

Stuck in the same story while separately in our own homes. 

And so we wait.

And we wish the world would get better soon.


The Gravity of Our Cores

Dorothy Angle, English teacher

We used to say six feet under to mean:

A literal and metaphysical separation,

The distance between those we can access and those we cannot.

And now, instead, we say six feet apart;

Or two grocery carts’ worth;

Or the length of an average car;

Or two adult golden retrievers.

Though sometimes the distance seems greater than carts, or cars, or goldens.


The toll this must take on a human soul,

One that evolved to crave the company of another.

A craving our survival once hinged upon and might yet still.

On the sidewalk we know to move apart, yet

Within us something stirs, sensing

In each other the primal core that glows.

Our heads incline imperceptibly towards one another,

Like magnets drawn to a northern or southern pole, a force

Mysterious and powerful and yet

A mere shadow of the gravity that pulls

Us into the orbit of other souls.


No wonder, then, that our bones ache from straining

Against that hardwired reaction, the writing

In our humanity.


Are You Lost?

Hilary Loder, English teacher

Dedicated to the Class of 2020

Sitting alone

Watching that movie


Glittery gown

In a heap

Next to the black polyester one

Online school hours

Not at 3 a.m.


Are you lost?


4th quarter grades


Being busted by security


Baseball games

Graduation rehearsals

Beach week



Are you lost?


Too much family

Ground Hog Day








Are you lost?



Life again finds North


Doesn’t replace what’s been stolen


Are you lost?


You shouldn’t be

Because you’ll always

Have me


Die, Corona

Mary Ellen Webb, English teacher

Sung to the tune of the Knack’s “My Sharona”

Ooh my little ugly one. Ugly one.

Guess I’m gonna get some time off, corona

To the groce-ry stores we run

Stores we run

Hoping for some Charmin Ultra Soft, corona

Never gonna stop

It’s a virus

Such a nasty thing

We’re never gonna stop

Cause we’re teachers

Though no bells will ring

Fie fie fie fie fie (wooh)

You oughta die, corona

You oughta die, corona


In a sudden stillness

Helen Mondloch, English teacher

In a sudden stillness I move between





                                     and surrender 


I always end with surrender


I surrender to knowing 

                that I am part of a collective spirit called humanity,

                                something greater than myself and this moment,

                                      that God’s will is in this somewhere 

though I have no clue where it hides


I surrender to knowing 

                that I must act to keep my mind and body strong, 

                                and my heart open, 

                                     and my creative energies alive 


I surrender to knowing that 

                I see through a glass, darkly.