By Charlie Lowe
Editor’s note: Charlie Lowe, 11, of Aptos, a fifth grader, shares what he wrote for a school assignment in September 2020, calling it an accurate (or, as accurate as possible) record of the day he learned about the coronavirus pandemic. Enjoy.
•••
This terrible year
Has made wildfires and
SARS-CoV-2. Perfect.
That pretty much sums it up.
I sit inside, staring at the ash on my dad’s car. Can’t go outside. Can’t see friends. So I guess I’ll write.
It was a novel virus that had the form of a coronavirus, a virus that had only been found infecting animals.
That sparked terrified theories and scared news reporters talking about any animal could’ve started it; from the snake to the humble pangolin. You see, I could talk about the psychology of the debate that was coming up… the impeachment looming possible. But I would probably bore you.
So, instead, I’ll talk about my birthday, just a couple days before March 13.
I rushed into class. Finally, the portable classrooms (i.e. Giant Shoeboxes) littered around the school were taken down and we had a big building for 1st to 5th grade. The downfall was that sinking feeling you get when you walk into a white classroom with white walls and not much… pizzazz.
Once there, I sat down and looked around. My small plastic chair is uncomfortable- well it’s always uncomfortable but it’s worse now. I look around. Survey says:
Stony faces. Sad people. SIGH. Ok. Not the BEST omen. I clear my throat. Listen. Pin drop silence. Shoot. My teacher, Mrs. Wilson, sighs, straightens up.
“The coronavirus has been the talk of the town for a while (New Yorker joke. That may have happened in real life, but most likely just in my mind.). I’d like to confirm any of your questions,” she says.
“What is it?” asks a classmate.
“I don’t know.”
(Not what we wanted to hear)
“How did it start?”
“I don’t know.”
Yeah. So we were all scared. We thought our teacher knew EVERYTHING. Or at least more than she did. The bright lights reflect Mrs. Wilson’s face onto the SmartBoard. (It’s like a TV, but for teachers. Mrs. Wilson was and still is VERY tech savvy.)
“All we know is that old folks and babies are susceptible. The virus is especially dangerous to anyone with asthma and/or compromised lungs.”
Pause. I scrape my chair across the floor. My mouth is a sack of sand. Not the sand part, the sack part. Burlap. But not the itchy part. That would be weird.
Ms. Wilson mercifully interrupts my train of thought: “Any REASONABLE questions?”
One hand. Before I even realize that the hand is MINE, the question is out of my mouth.
“Are they dying?”
Eager heads everywhere.
Mrs. Wilson stiffens like a news reporter being hounded for answers. “Um… yes.”
Pin drop silence.
“Lunchtime.”
Wait. HOLD ON JUST ONE FLIPPIN’ SECOND! Did she just say my grandparents were in danger of death by disease and had the NERVE to end that sentence with LUNCHTIME?
My classmates file out to get hand sanitizer. They’re still freaked out. It’s like a prison camp. Only less cheery. Okay. Happy birthday to me. Ugh. I guess, nothing a little Charlie Charm can’t fix. What’s the problem? It’s not a PANdemic, only an EPIdemic.
But still I had a feeling this epidemic would change into a pandemic. A big, earthshaking one. We all did.
God, I hate it when I’m right.