I cried when I got my second Covid-19 shot.
Not a lot.
Just a few drops.
But the flood of emotions I felt that accompanied that tiny pinch in my arm was totally unexpected.
It was like I gasped for breath and hadn’t realized until then that I was suffocating.
I looked up at the volunteer who had injected me to see if she’d noticed, but it’s hard to read someone’s expression under a mask.
So I found myself shrugging the feeling off, giving her a brisk “Thank you” and heading off to file my paperwork, get another stamp on my vaccination card and plopping in a chair for 15 minutes of observation before heading on my way.
As I sat there, I started to feel this growing sense of excitement in my chest.
Two weeks, I thought.
In two weeks I will be fully vaccinated.
Moderna is 94.1% effective at preventing infection. That means I should be able to return to school and teach my students in-person. Safely.
Some of them have been back in the classroom for weeks now, but I’ve had to stay CONTINUE READING: Hope During a Pandemic is Both Hard and Inescapable | gadflyonthewallblog
