A Summary of What I Hope to be the Worst Year of Our Lives

A Summary of What I Hope to be the Worst Year of Our Lives

COVID has been a real stretch

from the online school

to the numerous hybrid models

it’s been a real s t r e t c h


I always thought

a pandemic

would be like it is in the media:




an apocalyptic world


But no

it was everyday life

with masks

and a sleeping chaos

eating at everyone’s subconscious








A dark cloud

floating just beyond the horizon

never quite reaching us



I could feel the vicious winds accompanying the cloud

media outlets

reporting devastation

that felt just so far away


It stayed there

for online school

endless hours of Zoom

people and their faces

dissolved into black boxes with names

torture for everyone


The cloud stayed there

for all of the forms of hybrid

two days in person and three days asynchronous

then two days in person

one asynchronous day

two synchronous days


Confusing schedules

coupled with constant changes

set everyone on edge

quiet classes dragged

with no chat to type in

or computer to hide behind

hybrid was arduous to adjust to


The cloud stayed there

for in-person school

one asynchronous day

was discovered to be helpful

as a mid-week break

for everyone

a slight sense of normalcy was found

with this model of learning


But guess what?

the year’s almost at its end now

and my eighth-grade year has been messed up

I mean


it was a learning experience

(in many more ways than one)

it taught me the necessity of flexibility

and sensible optimism

but the



is that my last year in middle school

was muddied

thrown askew

by a cloud


The cloud will stay there

it’ll stay there for ages


(And how could I ever forget
what feels like an axe
over my head:
high school)
Teachers tell me that grades don’t define me
but high school grades matter the most
I shouldn’t be stressed by school because it’ll be a breeze
but I can expect a workload that takes a Herculean force to overcome
I can’t wait.)


But one day

the cloud will be reduced to wisps

its brutal winds finally calmed


Maybe it’ll scream with thunder

and flare with lightning

and pass on


Or maybe it’ll dissipate

the sun’s mellow rays

cutting the cloud into fragments

and allowing them to fade


Who knows how it’ll go?

it doesn’t matter

one day

the cloud will go.


Thank you to all the teachers I’ve had in middle school, during, and before COVID; core class, elective, and club teachers alike. Thank you to all of Westlake for providing me with a fun (albeit tiresome and difficult) three years. Thank you to Ms. Kaehny, Ms. Cianfrance, and the rest of the newspaper club. I’ll never forget the time I spent with you here. And finally, thank you to all of my friends and family who helped me whenever I needed it and got me through these long three years. Peace, Westlake.