When Caroline Thomey Adolph and I held hands and walked across the St. Margaret School gym during our kindergarten graduation in 1989, our families were crammed together on folding chairs, recording the momentous occasion with video cameras that looked like they belonged on the NFL sidelines. At six years old, we had mastered phonics and tying our shoes and that was worth celebrating.
No one in that room could have predicted the way COVID-19 would alter our very existence. There would be no kindergarten graduations in 2020, and if there are any in 2021, there will be a livestream and maybe a few dozen spread-out chairs for some mask-wearing folks with iPhones. I’m hoping by the time Teagan graduates kindergarten in 2022, she gets to hold hands with a little girl who becomes a lifelong friend like Caroline has for me.
There’s something about Catholic school friendships that stand the test of time. Sharing a faith-based community expands our bonds from the social to the spiritual. Even as adults, Caroline and I have chosen to remain with Catholic schools. She works in admissions at The John Carroll School in Bel Air and I teach English at Archbishop Curley High School in Baltimore, which is how we ended up running into each other at the COVID-19 vaccination clinic in Bel Air.
Just after my principal and I discussed my return to in-person school, he emailed the faculty and informed us that teachers were now eligible for the COVID-19 vaccine. Two months ago, I was still skeptical about the shot, but after consulting with some health professionals and seeing favorable results from my vaccinated friends in the medical profession, I felt confident. I signed up right away and anxiously counted down the days until I got to post the selfie with the Moderna or Pfizer card (either one was fine with me!).
When I pulled into the parking lot, I was in awe of all the bumper stickers and magnets from regional Catholic schools. I tend to notice them when I’m driving and they make me smile. Sure, my school may have a rival on the field, but in the Archdiocese of Baltimore, we are united.
It was especially meaningful to be joining other parochial educators to get vaccinated during Catholic Schools Week. We all read each other’s school shirts and hats and smiled at each other with our eyes. Together we are on the front lines, making sacrifices in the ways we teach and live in order to provide in-person education for our students because we believe their futures are worth it.
As the nurse injected my arm, I said a quick prayer of thanks to God for the hope he is giving us through these vaccines. I didn’t expect this experience to be emotional, but I did as I imagined what my classroom would look like with everyone in it and my own children in theirs. This shot will take us one step closer to a brighter world. And now it was my turn.
“All done,” the nurse said, handing me my card. When she told me to sit in the waiting area for fifteen minutes, I got nervous, but as soon as I stepped into the waiting area, I saw Caroline’s signature cat-eye glasses perched above her John Carroll mask and I knew that I would be okay. We exchanged hellos (the hugs will have to wait) and reminisced briefly about our kindergarten graduation before I found a socially-distant seat on the far side of the hallway.
Just as I sat down, I heard a woman’s voice say, “All right, St. Margaret’s people! Let’s take a socially distant selfie!” Of course, Caroline and I did the same. In our late thirties, we received our first round of coronavirus vaccines and THAT is worth celebrating.
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