In a year like 2020, it’s hard to weave through the chaos to find moments to give thanks. In this time of Thanksgiving, I find myself struggling to pinpoint the things I’m thankful for … but only for a brief moment. Even with the threat of this pandemic looming over our heads like a never-ending darkness, there are a multitude of aspects of my life that I am thankful for. It would be ridiculous to assume that while the world itself appears to still be falling apart at the seams, that there have not been moments of light to pierce through those looming chambers of darkness.

This year began as usual, with a hopeless and bandwagon-esque attempt at “changing” for the better. In January - like the rest of the naive populous - I made resolutions. Now, there has not been one year in my life I’ve upheld these mediocre resolutions, because if I really want a change, I’ll make a change. However, this year was different; 2020 began with a light so bright that I knew good omens were in my future. And then I remembered with my knowledge of literature that omens are almost always ominous in nature, and boy did the universe throw us a few curveballs.

It’s as if the universe were playing tug-of-war with my emotions - with every bad there followed a “good”, but all the good appeared with a plus. When the pandemic began, I was sent home for 2 weeks, and that 2 weeks slowly became the rest of the school year. While I was glad to be home - to end the misery of a long-distance relationship, 303 miles one direction, and the unending stress of creating 5 courses from scratch as I taught them - I longed for the moment I could stand at the helm of my classroom once again.

Soon after the remote end of the school year reached its resolution, there came an engagement; we were now planning a wedding for December 2021. However, with that beautiful positive and moment of thanks for a man who accepts me beyond all flaws, came the task of finding a teaching position in the area we wish to live with the very real possibility that the 2020/2021 school year may be as hectic as the previous spring.

I landed the job, and we managed to get all the way to Thanksgiving without having to go remote. Following a mandate from the governor banning the sale of alcohol from Wednesday night into Thursday morning came the news from administration that we would be remote teaching our students for a week. Now, I think all educators, especially those who have been remote teaching all year thus far - know how much more work that entails. It drains you even more mentally, emotionally, and physically because the work day never reaches its close. It’s a nonstop cycle, and when the students were informed during our half day Wednesday, their faces fell and concerns arose because all they want is to learn in an in-person environment. It is unrealistic for politicians to assume that teachers and students alike will be able to adapt to these new measures and learn at the rate they should be in the given school year. However, even with the unrealistic nature, we of course will push through as we always do because we love what we do. We would do anything for our students because it is our job to guide them down pathways of success.

Once again, even with the news of remote learning, there is the positive that without being bombarded with coverage requests, I can actually get ahead in my planning, I can return home before night falls, and I can hopefully relax. Although, relaxation has never really been my strong suit.

As I reflect on this year, I realize that there has been more darkness this year than I can ever remember falling into the laps of the general public; a darkness that has clutched the souls of many and fed on the isolation and fear instilled by outside forces. And unfortunately, even though I’m doing everything at the request of the CDC, the PA Department of Health, and the governor and his team of advisors, it’s still not enough. And, I’m fairly certain - based on the trajectory of what feels like the worst attempt at a science experiment - that it will never be enough.

Many Americans are spending the holidays away from their families through tiny LED screens, which from experience, doesn’t replace the feeling of having everyone home for the holidays. Many Americans are spending this Thanksgiving jobless, penniless, and without hope that “things will get better” because there is no beacon of light at the end of this endless tunnel. Many Americans cannot visit with their parents, grand-parents, or great-grand-parents because there is too high of a risk that germs will spread to the most vulnerable. Many Americans will not get the opportunity to see their Servicemen “until further notice”, after already being without physical contact for weeks, months, years. Many Americans now fear what the future holds, and that is a phrase I never thought I’d write in my lifetime. At 24-years-old, I’ve experienced my fair share of tragedy, but the downfall of this year feels almost more personal, like no matter how stringently we oblige, the result is already fixed.

So, even though this Thanksgiving felt a bit empty, with less seats at the table, missing laughter over ridiculous jokes, siblings that instead are oceans away facing more lockdowns and travel bans - I’m thankful for the opportunities presented before my family and I this year. I’m thankful for the health of my loved ones, as we continue to go out into the real world each and every day because locking ourselves inside like recluses isn’t an option. I’m thankful that this hopeless and chaotic year is soon coming to a close, because another year like this will leave irreparable damage to the economy and the daily livelihood of Americans as we know it, more so than has already been done.

This Thanksgiving, I remember the little lights that have flickered and led me through the blackouts this year. Without some good to counter the bad, I’m not sure what my world would look like. And to be quite frank, I don’t want to find out. Dwelling on the past isn’t something I frequent; instead, I look toward the future, espresso in hand, Mr. Know-it-All and Fred by my side, as we brace for the ascent into 2021. Until next time ...