Learning to Learn

Hello! It’s been a while! It feels like it’s been much longer than it has, which I’m sure many of you can relate to. After my rather hectic journey from eSwatini to South Africa to Hong Kong to home, the days have stretched out and merged. When I arrived home, I isolated myself from my parents as best we could manage in our small flat. My father is immunocompromised, and my mother seems to catch absolutely everything and have it turn into pneumonia, so we were all rightfully wary of me, and my multiple flights home. 

I was mostly confined to my room and a chair in the corner, I stayed two metres from my parents at all times, and I wasn’t allowed in the kitchen. I carried around a little spray bottle of bleach and a cloth to wipe down any surfaces I might have breathed on. It was not the most joyous homecoming I have ever experienced. After my two weeks of quarantine, I was allowed back in the kitchen where I promptly hopped on the bandwagon of sourdough making.  Bliss.

I, like many people, have taken this unexpected situation and embraced the cottagecore life of my dreams. I bake so much! I made homemade ginger beer and preserved lemons! I’ve taken up puzzles! If it weren’t spring, best believe I would be knitting up a storm. I’ve been sewing fabric face masks for people in my building! I’m gardening and going on evening walks and drinking pots and pots of tea. I’m even learning the harp! When I write it all down like this, it almost sounds productive. 

Truthfully, these are interludes to hours spent on youtube and reading online. There was a month long period after getting home before classes started, and while I did do all the things listed above, I also sunk into idleness. I know my thoughts on this are not new – we’re all trying to learn to find balance between treating ourselves with compassion, and trying to remain a semi-functioning human. I went from a life where my day started at six am and often ended past midnight, with constant interactions and stimulations. It’s hard to explain Waterford. It’s a pretty special place. It’s not always perfect, but it’s very much my home. To be removed from it so suddenly has taken its toll. There is no one to knock on my door at 1am (Julia), no one to wander unexpectedly into the kitchen while I’m cooking and stay for a meal. There is no one to dance with.

There is also the more logistical troubles of trying to do online school when I’m nine hours behind the time zone of my school. I’ve had more than a few teachers asking why I wasn’t in video lessons – which occurred at 3am for me. I’ve attended some midnight classes and some 7am classes, but for the most part I’ve been working independently. 

After being homeschooled for most of my life, I wasn’t expecting this to be too much of a challenge, but I think I underestimated how much of the IB and UWC model is built on interactions. While I can read my biology textbook and watch videos and take notes, it’s extremely different from bouncing questions and ideas across the classroom. I can read articles and learn about the South Sudan civil war, but it doesn’t compare to in-class debates and discussions. Nearly every student in the world is experiencing this right now, and I remain extremely lucky. My internet connection is stable, I have my own room to work in, and I have teachers who are willing to teach classes at 6pm to allow me to attend.

Part of UWC is adapting to new situations, and learning to function in new environments. I’m confident in my friends’ and classmates’ abilities to make the most of this, and take each challenge as it comes. UWC is built on optimism and compassions and connectivity, and right now, that’s what we all need. So, as this continues, I remember the mission of my school and the movement it belongs to, and I do my best to embody it as I learn to learn in a new way.