To the Students of New Prague High School, 

To be frank with all of you… This sucks. On Sunday, when I watched Tim Walz, our governor make the announcement that schools would be closing, I sat on my couch with an overwhelming feeling of sadness. Sadness for so many things. Sadness for the world, sadness for our country, and sadness for the people that are battling COVID-19, and sadness for the people who will be fighting it in the coming days, weeks, and months. Since then, I’ve been trying to wrap my head around what it means to teach from my house. How to make that work, what technology to use, and how to make the most of each day. It’s been overwhelming. 

On Tuesday, I ran into school to pick up a few things that I thought I might need. As I was looking at my empty classroom, I started to think of all the things we would miss out on for the foreseeable future. I love my job. I was born to be a teacher. Going to school, seeing the future of the world in my classroom each and every day gives me a joy I can’t recreate in other areas of my life. It is a blessing that I’ve taken for granted at times since starting my career. It is a blessing I will try not to take for granted for the rest of the days I’m lucky enough to get back in my classroom.

Whether you’re a freshman, a sophomore, a junior, or a senior – this isn’t how you envisioned your year going. Not only in regards to school, but to the world at large. Being at school, surrounded by your friends – this is what you deserve. Walking through the locker bank, seeing your faces, laughing with you in class, handshakes, fistbumps, even the times when you try to make me flinch, or scare me in the locker bank – these are the things I’m already missing. What I wouldn’t give to hear someone yell across the locker bank, “What it doooooo, Ms. Mayer!” 

This next part is directed towards the class of 2020. I want to tell you that I am thinking of you all. I am so sorry that this is taking away from the time that you have left at NPHS. For four years, you’ve walked the halls, won games as Trojans, performed on stage in theatre productions… The list feels long. Except now, I’m sure it suddenly feels far too short – it feels too short to me. The time you’re missing out on right now is precious, and all of the unknowns are frustrating. 

The one thing that I know for sure is this. Over four years, I have had the privilege of watching you grow up into these kind, resilient, hilarious, intelligent, and boisterous young adults. I’ve watched you deal with adversity. I’ve watched you sing and dance your way across stages you used to be too shy to stand up on. I’ve seen you catch the winning touchdown, score the winning goal, hit the winning shot. I’ve graded some of your best work… and some of your worst. No matter what the situation, you’ve all proven time and time again, that you have the strength to thrive. 

I cannot explain to you all, how lucky I feel to be your teacher. Every time I look through my class rosters or think about funny things that have happened in my classroom… I’m reminded of it.  Through all of this, I’ve known one thing to be true, above all else. Whatever happens – you will rise up. I have never been more sure of something. Though it feels dark right now – the future of the class of 2020 is so bright – that I need to wear shades. (Obviously, I had to end with a cheesy joke… duh.)