To My Kids, on the Real Weird School's Eve

My darling children,

The three of you who are headed back to school tomorrow, not the other three that have moved on, I have a few words of wisdom and a whole lot of words I won’t put into print, but you know your mom and you can fill in the blanks.

Elsa, Sally and Wesley, you’re starting your senior, freshwoman and eighth grade years, and damn it, I wish it was normal. You should be excited about football, homecoming, back to school clothes, seeing old friends, making new ones, sharpening your pencils and zeroing in on what kind of year you hope to have. You should be trying out for sports and picking activities and joining clubs and groups.

But because adults didn’t do what needed to be done, and leadership in our country completely bungled the most basic of tasks, you get nothing of the sort.

You’re heading back to school in the midst of a fouled up pandemic response, heightened racial tensions, social upheaval and the most divided community, country and world we could not have foreseen in a million years. You get school on a screen and masks and unclear direction for a future we can’t even name.

I’m sorry.

But somehow I know you’ve been raised and nurtured for a time such as this.

Over the years, I’ve tried my best to turn your heads to the least of us, who lack the most and have access to little and who have only known lives of struggle and fear. You know that you sit in a place of great privilege and have an unending catalog of choices for your present and future. You’ve got the fastest wifi available (thanks Karl!), iPads, study spaces, supplies and tools at your fingertips. There’s a refrigerator and pantry full of food and snacks to keep you going all day (and night!) long.

Yet you’re keenly aware of your peers in school who don’t have what you do. You know that buying extra supplies and packing bags to take to the food shelf is always the most important thing. This summer, you joined Karl and me in packing the entire car full of food, diapers, formula and laundry soap to bring to neighborhoods in Minneapolis that have been crippled by racism and strife. Together, we gathered water and sunscreen and other items that the brave men, women and kids on the front lines of the protests needed most. I’m proud of you who marched, donated, rode along, protected and served with us during the month of June.

We’ve already forgiven that whole arrest and jail thing. We’re super proud of your passion.

Tonight, our bellies are full of the traditional Labor Day clambake feast. We looked back on a summer of camping and fishing, first solo plane rides, trips to the boundary waters, Colorado, new jobs, new friends. Despite a global pandemic, you had a good bit of fun and adventure, right?

Karl and I, and your dad, are incredibly proud of your resilience and strength. We know you’re going to make the best of this wonky beginning of the school year because you’ve been taught this is just a blip on the radar screen of life. It’s a piece, not a whole.

Keep your eye out for your friends who are lonely at home, who are struggling or who just need extra love, Invite them here to (safely) study. Keep your ears open for those that might be hungry or hurting or in need. Quietly tell me about it, and we’ll see what we can do together.

For whatever crap this whole year of 2020 produces, you’re the cream that rises to the top and you’re going to take this and go be better in the future. I can’t wait to see how you use this for good.

And for the love of all that’s holy, be nice to your teachers.

I love you, my loud and lovely and amazing children.