I've said these words approximately five thousand times in the past few months. I say them when people ask, "So, seriously. What do you think? What will school look like in the fall?" Then they tell me why they're asking. It usually takes me a couple sentences to identify their "side."
My child needs to be back in school. I have to work. I can't lose my job. Last spring was a disaster. My child needs socialization. Have you seen the data? Hospital capacity is lower than ever. We have to get these kids back in school. Special education! English language learners! Struggling readers! Athletes! Theatre! Music!
Or, they say:
This is terrifying. I am so very, very scared. It's a matter of life and death. Have you seen the data? So many people are sick. We cannot safely send students back to school without compromising the health of our entire community. We have to stop this push to get back to school. It's irresponsible and negligent.
As I listen, I feel very shred of each person's conviction and passion. And that's when I say, "There are no good answers."
I also say, "You are correct."
Right? We're all correct. Regardless of our place on the spectrum, regardless of the lens we are using—academic, social, health, emotional, intellectual, scientific, political— we are all correct. We. are. all. correct. We are all correct. Which also means no one is wrong.
You guyyyyys. There's so much name-calling lately. Social media—? Blech. Individually and collectively, it seems many folks are taking this approach: Anyone who doesn't agree with me is crazy, misguided, influenced by the wrong news sources. Anyone who does agree is educated, smart, tuned in to the truth.I have refreshed my mental health by deciding to avoid social media posts and comments. It wasn't healthy for me anymore. I'd been reading it all, scrolling and absorbing and trying to keep up. I'd thought it was the responsible thing to do—keep my fingers on the pulse of the conversation. Understand the perspectives, identify the bulldogs and leaders. Most times, though, I just felt nauseous. I'd want to shout, People! You are all correct! There are no good answers! Stop! Why are we so angry? Why are we turning on one another?
But I never shouted. I retreated and remain calm. Yay me! It helped when I recognized I couldn't find the "right" answer. Because. Again. It doesn't exist.
Last night, I took my daily evening walk with my husband and the dog. The crescent moon invigorated Roxie; she raced around as if she were still a puppy, chasing fireflies and sniffing under each bush. For a dog, there is opportunity and possibility beneath each weed, each branch, each flower. Then I looked up. The sky! The moon! The stars! I remembered my son telling me a million Earths can fit inside the sun. "The sun makes up almost 99.8 percent of the solar system's mass," he said. "It's 109 times the size of earth. And a million of Earths could fit inside! A million! I mean..." he shook his head. "We're tiny! We are so small it's impossible to even imagine."
Perspective is hard to accept, especially when our very biggest fears and anxieties have their own podium and microphone. Perspective is there if we seek it, though. Just because someone disagrees with us doesn't make them wrong. The world is enormous, and we are teeny-tiny. I'll end with one of my favorite, oft-quoted truisms: It's all going to be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end.
