As I write this blog, on St George’s Day 2020, we have missed fourteen days of “normal” school due to the coronavirus closure. Fourteen days. It seems like much longer. “Normal” school already seems like a distant memory, and this new life has taken over. 

Our front window, this morning

Simple things, like going to the supermarket, have become significant events. I used to pop out and do the weekly shop without thinking about it. Now, I am held two metres apart outside the store, waiting in a queue for a disinfected trolley. Once inside, I am directed round the aisles in a one-way system, instinctively waiting behind the black-and-yellow tape for the person in front to take their milk before moving forward. They are wearing a face mask and blue latex gloves, and this is “normal.”

Social distancing in the supermarket: the new “normal”

The store is eerily quiet, and then I realise – everyone is shopping alone. The child seats in the trolleys are folded flat. Nobody has brought their children with them. I never thought I would miss the sounds of somebody else’s toddler having a tantrum – but I do. I turn into the baking aisle: no flour still. No eggs. No rice. And this is “normal.” 

As I wait my turn for a checkout, behind another black and yellow line, I look at my fellow shoppers. I can’t help the thought crossing my mind: have you got it? Will I catch it? When I get home, I wash my hands. The first verse of Shake It Off is 20 seconds long; I sing it to myself as I soap.

Before COVID-19, I would leave school after a full and exhausting day. I’d listen to a podcast (or Taylor Swift) and unwind, coming home to spend time with my family. Some weeks, I would hardly see them due to late meetings and early starts. Now, I see them all the time – but the separation between work and home has disappeared. My school work – video conference meetings, emails, phone calls, lesson planning, problem solving, decision making – takes place in and around my family life. I find it hard to switch off, constantly stepping from parenting to working.

Like many families, we are juggling working from home with supervising our own children’s home learning, supporting them and keeping them motivated. I don’t know whether it’s a good thing being locked down in home-schooling when your Dad’s an actual Headteacher…you’d have to ask my children that!

The BBC News film crew, preparing to film in the ICU

These are difficult times. I watch the news once a day, but try not to look beyond that. The heroics of the NHS staff inspire me, but the blurred-out ventilated patients they are tending to are terrifying. I struggle to sleep: I worry about our students, our staff, my family, myself. What will the future be like? How will schools return safely? How can we get back to the old “normal?” When will it be possible? Will it ever be possible? And, because there are no answers to these questions, they go round and round and round.

The tree in our back garden, this week

And yet, in these dark times, there is light. Our students are accomplishing wonderful things in their home learning and in their communities. Our staff are developing a whole new range of skills in remote education, and continuing to reach out and support our students even when we can’t be together. I am loving spending all this time with my family, playing, creating, reading, eating and laughing together. The sun has been shining in a sky without airliner vapour trails; traffic noise has almost disappeared. Every Thursday evening we venture out to our front gate and applaud. To our left and right, up and down the street, families are doing the same. Someone sends a firework up into the evening sky. Blossom is filling the trees.

In the end, it will all be okay. We have adjusted to this new “normal;” we can adjust again. And, if we work together, maybe, eventually, we can establish a new “new normal” that is even better than the old.