The Selfish Class of 2020

By: Grace Whiteley

At the time, I had no idea that the notification that popped up on my phone would bring the
world to a halt a couple months later. I open the CBC article detailing a virus, sweeping across
China, devastating their cities and crippling their resources. I shiver at the thought of thousands
sick and hundreds at risk. My friends get back from the cafeteria, instantly the conversation
shifts towards grades and graduation dresses, our future seems close and there are no threats in
my life. The bell rings, I walk to class thinking about everything and worrying about nothing.

“Friends and family- your graduating class of 2015!” My mom is clapping as hard as she can in
the seat next to mine, craning her neck to see my big brother in his cap and gown. He seems to
have grown up just by holding that diploma. He seems happier just from having walked the
stage. The room inflates with the pride of the families as each clap pumps it bigger and bigger
and it feels like the hall will explode with the happiness of the crowd. My dad wipes a tear from
his eye and I can’t look away from the celebration before me.

I think it’s pretty common for people to have a nickname for their grandparents. On my Moms
side of the family, I call my grandma Baba, Ukrainian for grandmother. My Baba is the
strongest woman I know yet she can’t feed herself, walk or dial a telephone. Baba suffers from
Parkinsons, a nervous system disorder that over time inhibits and prevents movement. At one
time Baba would carry me around her warm house on her hip and I would give her suggestions
as to what to add to her Borscht. Now I gingerly sit by her bedside asking for advice and pray for
the luxury of time, time one often takes for granted.

Things of this magnitude are harder to accept when nobody sees it coming, maybe I should’ve
seen it coming, but instead I convinced myself it would never happen. Then it sent me an email,
it was posted on snapchat, it was in my group chat and it was on my TV.
ALBERTA K-12 SCHOOLS CLOSED INDEFINITELY DUE TO COVID-19 OUTBREAK
At first it didn’t seem so bad. Then I realised that it had cancelled my spring break trips, it had
cancelled my sports, it had canceled my grad, it might change my university acceptance, it just
took away my last day of highschool without me knowing, it had taken senior ditch day, it had
cancelled our grad prank. It had just taken away my grade 12 year and I didn’t even see it
coming, nobody wanted to see it coming, but it was here anyways. It was just a notification on
my phone a couple weeks ago and now it was the only thing anybody talked about. It made me
feel like I was being selfish.

Hours later after being pushed from picture to picture, my shiny family finally sits down at our
table in the banquet hall. Although the room is decorated with recycled graduation decor and the
DJ is at his fifth grad this week, it all feels very special to me. My mom is fawning over my
brother in his suit and messing with his hair, but I don’t notice as I’m watching the girls in their
elegant gowns float into the room one by one. They sparkle and twirl, even though some of them
can barely walk in their high heels, it still seems like every disney movie I’ve ever watched,
except this time I get the satisfaction of knowing that it will be me one day. One day my mom
will fuss over my hair and my dad will shed a tear with pride, one day I will wear a dress that
will make a little girl want to be all grown up as well.

Even as she has moved from house to house and apartment to nursing home, my Baba’s place
always smells like that same Borscht soup. Maybe it’s in my head from years past falling asleep
on the couch before dinner with grandparents, ingrained in the memory of a tender hug waking
me up to come sit at the table. Her nursing home is less like the house my mom grew up in and
less like the house I would spend Christmas. In my Baba’s nursing home she has lots of pills by
her bedside and you have to lean in very close to hear what she’s saying. Today when my mom
and I visited, she showed me her jewelry from her youth. Gold earrings from nights out and long
necklaces from a time where her good judgement hadn’t yet been learned. I had to almost lean on
top of her frail frame to hear her whispers of times past. Baba said she wanted to see me wear her
ancient gold earrings at my graduation, but got interrupted when the nurse came in to give her
her nighttime medication. My mom cried on the drive home, she wants Baba to see me in those
earrings too.

I sit in my house with absolutely nothing to do as all normality fades away from my life. I am
mad that everything I was looking forward to in the next year seems to be gone, it makes me mad
that all I can think about is myself at this time. At the time of writing this 8 944 (now 47 264)
people have died, yet all I can think about is the grad dress sitting upstairs in my closet. My dress
is gold and sparkles when I walk, but now it's just a constant reminder of the experience that
seems out of reach. There are wedding dresses and Team Canada jerseys that are hung up in
closets too, symbols of anticipation and celebration that now seem so trivial. I think I’ve come to
terms with the isolation and the cancellations. Now I confront the reality of death for so many
and again I feel selfish for ever being upset. Everyone is upset, maybe we're all being selfish.

Finally everyone has been ushered into the banquet hall and a girl who looks like she is still on
the high from being inflated by our applause from earlier, goes up to make the valedictorian's
speech. Her speech is both insightful and funny, you can tell she is smart by the way she holds
herself. Once again I find myself idolizing another graduate, wishing that at her age I will be as
equally eloquent and graceful. The valedictorian tells her classmates that highschool made her
who she is today and prepared her for what is to come tomorrow. Years later I would remember
the feeling of that room and the look of exhilaration as the teenagers of my brother's class looked
forward to the next chapter of their life, their smiles not from their uncomfortable shoes nor from
the pictures they took, but from the anticipation of the new chapter to come. Years later I would
apply to be my own graduating class’ valedictorian in hopes of emulating that feeling of
excitement to my own classmates. The class of 2020.

Today my mom spent hours on the phone begging my Baba’s nursing home to let in her private
nurses. Today the province closed the door to all nursing homes and only staff members are
allowed in. Today my Baba who can’t move nor fight for her own wellbeing will be left alone
for 6 hours at a time so she isn’t exposed to the virus. My mom is scared she will die from
depression or from being left on her own. The province is scared she will become another victim
and add to the growing death toll that they are trying to supress. I’m scared I was so busy
thinking about a dress, my sports and my grades, I didn’t think enough about the people who are
at risk. I am only at risk of my life being put on hold, they are at risk of their lives ending.

I am still the same girl who is dreaming of the day she can be valedictorian and the day she can
wear the gown waiting in her closet, but now I’m in self isolation and praying for a vaccine to
come soon. It has been upsetting to see so many things be seemingly ripped away from me, but I
have realised that there are greater things at risk. Disappointment is not unique to the Class of
2020, it is a feeling felt by fiances, athletes, birthday girls and many more. Just as I would never
consider any of these people who had to put their lives on hold to be selfish for wishing it was
different, I no longer feel selfish for wanting to have my senior year be given back to me. Now I
wait for the curve to be flattened and toilet paper to be back in stock, I pray for my Baba and I
pray for the world that seems fractured around me. I am still remaining hopeful that sometime
soon I will get to be in a room that seems swollen with the happiness of proud parents and get to
wear my grad dress with my Baba’s earrings. I don’t think it’s selfish to want any of these things.