FACULTY VOICE

Of Masks and Hats

By John Tyler, Middle School counselor

“Our times aren’t the first to test an entire generation.”

COVID is a harsh, sometimes cruel teacher. When accepting the Middle School counselor position in 2020, I felt the world shaking and changing beneath my feet. Walls in hallowed classrooms throughout campus were moving to facilitate social distancing and in-person lessons. This community was learning to preserve a thriving environment for young scholars while creating a healthy space for anyone stepping onto campus.

A pandemic taught us traditions could bend. During the worst of COVID’s semesters, achievements and rites of passage couldn’t enjoy the full force of a communal embrace. We celebrated with our hearts when we couldn’t cheer in larger gatherings. Lessons of COVID were frustrating at times; heartbreaking and tiresome too. Our lingering crisis instructs us to seek opportunities to sail above a runaway virus. Our times aren’t the first to test an entire generation. In times of war, economic depression, dust bowls, polio and more, previous generations adapted and inspired. We build from triumph and resilience summoned by persons surviving hard times before us.

My grandfather was a gentleman. A proper Midwestern man who believed in God, family and community. He was the kind of fellow who kept his shirt tucked neatly while working in the yard, tinkering with his car, or playing tennis on the city courts. He was the guy who wouldn’t bring up tribulations and focused instead on being grateful. When off to work or church or out for a walk, my grandfather wore a gray fedora. Men wore hats like that back then. Grandpa wore a daily hat late into the 1960s when the custom no longer was in fashion. I was in my middle school years desperately trying to figure out my existence while he entered old age trying to decide if an unhatted head was respectable. I recall walks with Grandpa – him with his hat and me with my worries – and I remember how he listened and lent me hope and courage when I felt unsure and unsteady. Grandpa believed in me. Eventually he surrendered belief in a return of the fedora and tucked his hat away, for good, on the top shelf in his closet. When he died, I asked my father if I could keep my grandfather’s hat.

When moving into the counselor’s office in Wilton Hall, I brought books enough to fill a tall bookcase and a hat, my grandfather’s hat, to hang on a hook inside the office door. Grandpa would be happy to see it again. It was with much reluctance and some discomfort when he retired it to a dark shelf. The hat is a reminder of the man who wore it and the little boy who loved the man who wore it.

Comfort is found in the fabric and heft of cherished traditions and venerated history. Customs and routines, even modified to offset COVID, keep us grounded and connected. Returning to classrooms and schedules after a few months of virtual school helped young scholars and our community of educators, administrators

and families find familiarity in an unfamiliar time. Former ways of navigating school and student life were bending. We discovered pathways to nurture resilience and flexibility. Our individual and collective conversations inspired optimism. Resilience is hard-won. Resilience requires difficult times, and COVID taught us hard times arise quickly.

The virus invaded our bodies and our minds. COVID spread into our conversations, our politics, our dreams, our vacations and even dinner plans. The bug infects our very wellness. Rising mental health disorders – anxiety, depression, PTSD – emerge as another invisible menace. Masks, social distancing, hand washing and vaccines kept us relatively safe from the virus. The Saints community, united, helped mitigate the terrible isolation and mental breakdown plaguing young people and families in the greater community.

Saints visiting my counseling office and crisscrossing campus express diverse opinions and attitudes regarding this pandemic. Some favor mask-wearing and some would rather not. Some students consider deeply what we know and don’t know about the virus. Some students carry on as if we live in a new, however temporary, normal existence. Some are anxious and confused when restrictions lift, while other students celebrate.

What is good medicine in this time of COVID sickness is the daily schedule – our in-person learning. Something normal in uncertain territory. The Saints community remains an antidote to some of the worst that COVID can bring. We learned to adapt to foster resilience and optimism. St. Christopher’s boys are resilient. Our teachers, administrators and staff are resilient. Our traditions and rites of passage are resilient. The pandemic became a relentless teacher and we all became students.

A COVID education comes with fits and fury. We learned that facts change, sometimes quickly, as understanding changes. We learned that loneliness hurts, and isolation is everyone’s problem. We remember that family – my family, your family, our family – is important and should never be taken for granted. We affirm that teaching is not just an academic or cognitive endeavor, but also an emotional practice that connects us to the well-being of all students. We realize self-care is not selfish. We celebrate little victories. We understand that community and collaboration build resilience. We know that uncertainty erodes resilience, so we practice small gestures and brave hearts to provide a foundation for control and certainty.

My grandfather was part of what is called the Greatest Generation. Born in the early 1900s, he endured hardships during a lifetime. I wonder what he might think about COVID and the challenges our youngest face today. His words have faded, but I see him now as I close my eyes. When strong winds blow, Grandpa doesn’t turn away. He sets his hat tighter and steers into the storm. He survived viruses and worse and remained forever optimistic. He winks beneath his brim. His mouth curves in a smile. Grandpa believes in me. He believes in you, too.