Wolves are cool I guess

Hey.  I know that I am probably the last person you ever really wanted to talk with, and, more than likely, you haven’t thought about me in years. Although, let’s be real here – part of me wonders every day if you do.  I gave up the hope that our paths would cross again to form a relationship again many years ago when I entered adulthood and saw what kind of a nightmare you had to endure under the reign of terror of my affections for several years.  I suppose that’s the problem when an undiagnosed autistic girl falls in love with you.  Honestly, ________________, I think you are the only boy I’ve ever fallen in love with my entire life, and, if you aren’t, then you certainly taught me how I would experience love for the rest of my life. Even if you are not the only boy whom I could ever say I loved, I can say without a doubt that I have loved you the most.

It’s funny how unrequited love works, isn’t it?

I remember the first time I ever laid eyes on you.  I remember the first time you ever smiled at me.  I remember all of the times you said you were impressed with how much I remembered about you, but that is because you became a special interest the moment I laid my eyes on you.  The thing about autistics falling in love is that, sometimes, the people of their affections become special interests.  Perhaps not all autistic people are the same, but I certainly knew I had fallen in love when my love for you and my penchant for developing special interests combined into a hodgepodge of yearning and affection.  Honestly, until my therapist indicated to me that I may have autism, I had no idea how I could have had so many feelings for you, while at the same time having so much social ineptitude that I could do nothing about it and, as a result, only pushed you away.

I did push you away, and none of it was your fault.  I wouldn’t entirely consider it my fault either, because I don’t know if blame needs to be assigned here.  I was a girl who had just entered adolescence who fell in love with a boy three years older than her.  I acted the way any young girl experiencing the first hormones of love would have acted, and you responded to me in the way any respectable older boy should have. You were nice to me, but you never once tried to date me or tried to take advantage of me, and, as an adult nearly ten years later, I respect you more for it.

The reason I write this letter is that these were the words I always wanted to say to you, and I wish I could say to you now, but we are both adults with paths that have not intersected since we were kids.  I remember the last time you ever spoke to me, nearly five years after we first met.  I remember how dark the parking lot was when we sat outside of your car and talked.  I remember your family asking me to come hang out with them.  I remember your not fighting against my coming for dinner. I remember feeling how disappointed I felt when I wasn’t allowed to go, because it was a school night.  I remember feeling how warm and loving and safe I felt in your arms when you hugged me that night. I often ponder about that night.  I wonder what could have happened if I had gone with you and your family. I often think that things may have turned out much differently for you and me.  

Truthfully, I think the reason I started writing this is that you were the first boy who ever made me feel as though I mattered.  I’ll never forget when we were all sitting around talking, and I was in the midst of fighting off a bout of young teenage depression.  I tripped over something, and everyone laughed.  I swore I would never come back there again.  Then, you came, and you sat down beside me.  We had talked multiple times beforehand, but I felt like this was the first time you had ever truly noticed me or that I had been noticed by anyone for that matter.  I had become so accustomed to flying under the radar, a feeling that so many autistic women and girls can identify with, that I couldn’t comprehend when someone noticed me.  I had always been attracted to you, but that night was the night I believe that I fell in love with you. I’ve always wondered if it were just gratitude, but I have come to the conclusion that I don’t believe gratitude would have transcended several years of unrequited pining.  I loved you every single day for close to seven years, and I firmly believe that I will always remember your name, and you will always occupy a small corner of my heart.

I hope that, in all your memories of me, there is just one memory that makes you smile.  I hope that one day I can get the opportunity to sit down with you and tell you this in person.  I’m sorry for all the embarrassment I caused you.

With love.

Preface:  I want to preface my statement with stating that this is not to rag on the education system for taking precautions when it comes to the COVID-19 panic. These precautions are absolutely necessary for the continuance of education. This is merely to express my frustrations with distance learning.  

I am tired. 

I am tired of 2020.  I am tired of Covid.  I am tired of distance learning. 

I have the unique perspective of being a fresh out of college educator who experienced distance learning as both a college student and, now, as a high school educator.  The only reason I acquired my position was due to the fact several teachers retired from my school system due to the pandemic.  I love my job. I love my kids.  They are not the problem.  The problem is that distance learning is not operating in any kind of effective way.  

I attended university during the pandemic.  I witnessed my ADULT peers refuse to attend Zoom lectures, so when my students, who are literal CHILDREN, refuse to come to class, how on earth am I supposed to be angry?  I can’t be.  I can’t be, because I completely understand. In fact, I truly, from the bottom of my heart, feel horrible for you guys.

How can I be angry at my kids when they don’t show up for online school during snow days?  COVID has taken so much from you guys -- proms, school parties, field trips, sports -- and it absolutely is not fair that you guys can’t have the joy of an ACTUAL day off from school due to the weather.  How can I be mad when my kids don’t turn in their work, because they are just so ready for their break, that, mind you, has already been shortened, because American education cannot seem to get its act together to function halfway efficiently.  This time has especially been trying on students with special needs, whom have struggled the most with these changes.

They are done.  And I am done. 

I have seen several people, mostly Baby Boomers, complaining that “kids have it so easy, I wish I could stay home and play on the computer all day instead of go to school.”  My response to the people who say this is shame on you, because you are part of the problem. These kids do not simply get to stay home and do nothing all day.  They are learning, and they are learning virtually in the middle of a global pandemic that is going to make human history, and, because of this global pandemic, they are facing sets of challenges that no other generation has faced before. I try to have patience with remote learning because we are essentially the guinea pig generation, and, while I hope that this never has to happen again, I hope that, in the event that it does, the system improves.