Dear Lake Nona’s Class of 2021,

Let me start this letter off by saying I’m sorry! I am sorry because, last year, you sat back and watched your community come together to lift up your peers – the Class of 2020 – when things all around them started to fall apart. Things were different then. We all were trapped in our homes trying to figure stuff out, so yes, it was hard not to see the disappointment in their faces when all the senior events they looked forward to were suddenly yanked away. Our community saw their pain and rallied together and adopted the 2020 seniors. Pictures flooded my Facebook feed of chalked-up sidewalks with congratulatory messages and happy 17- and 18-year-olds holding their unexpected boxes of donuts, coffee and balloons. It felt awesome to see those kids smile, and it made the adults, who generously donated their time and love, feel good during a time that was anything but.

When the summer months approached, things changed. Adults suddenly grew tired of being home, and we tried desperately to get back into some kind of new norm. We started to venture out of the home as soon as they said we could, and we figured out ways to try to do things we used to. Anger and frustration about the pandemic and our own losses of income, freedom and – in some cases – lives replaced empathy we once had for things like missed dances and senior traditions. The adults who once seemed so loving and understanding about how teenagers were feeling no longer seemed to care.

You started your senior year off basically alone, most of you virtually at home. The teachers who, just a few months before, had so much sympathy for students were now extremely frustrated, trying to figure out how to teach to those at home and in person. Admin, who worked so quickly to figure out ways to make the seniors the year before you feel special by posting pictures outside the schools and offering drive-thru events, were suddenly just too busy trying to keep COVID-19 out of school to worry about making you all feel special, too. And the loving community, who empathized so much with the class before you, now just scream at you to “Suck it up.” And that is exactly what you beautiful kids did, too. It’s not an accident that your senior class shirts say, “21 and DONE!”

But as a mother of a senior from the Class of 2021, I see you! I know you are applying to colleges blindly because most are still not allowing tours. I know that the scholarship offers that hopefully are coming in are much smaller – not because your class is any less deserving but because those higher institutions do not have the funds to offer anymore. I know that there was no real Senior Day or Homecoming. Spirit week virtually just did not happen, and fall shows were canceled as were competitions and so many other events. Football games and other sporting events looked quite different this past fall, with testing beforehand and limited attendance. Even senior yearbook pictures were different with boys having tuxes photoshopped on! These are all things that, unless you have a senior at home, you may not know.

And so, Class of 2021, I write this letter to you all to let you know that even if you don’t think so, YOU ARE SEEN! I see your anxiety about your future and the sadness behind the mask you are now forced to wear. I see the loss you are feeling as you are being forced a little quicker to let your childhood go and GROW UP. I’m sorry this is not the year you dreamed of and that you are not getting the support that the Class of 2020 got. It is not because we love you any less; we adults are full of compassion in a moment of crisis, but we grow tired and cynical rather quickly. But you sweet children are not adults yet, nor are you ruined by cynicism. You are compassionate, determined, creative and conscientious. I know this because I am raising one of you in my own home.

I don’t know what the rest of your senior year will look like, but I do know that there is a whole world outside of high school that desperately needs the strength and tenacity the Class of 2021 is showing.

You got this, seniors!

Love,

Sharon (aka MOM)