History Coming to Life: A Teen’s Perspective on Social Distancing

Just three months ago, I sat at my desk brainstorming potential topics for my junior paper, a notorious ten-page history paper written by every eleventh grader at my school. I sifted through various possibilities, such as Roosevelt’s New Deal and 1940s internment camps for Americans of Japanese descent, but it did not take me long to settle on the influenza epidemic of 1918. I was immediately drawn in by the strangeness of the situation, how the entire world shut down in a matter of days. It was like nothing I had ever heard of. I immersed myself in the subject, learning about everything from movie theatre closings to unusual preventive measures such as eating teaspoons of baking soda and putting various herbs in one’s hair.

In the fall of 1918, amidst the chaos of World War I, a pandemic began. Known as the Spanish flu, this strain of influenza was more deadly than any ever seen before. It swept across the world, killing over 50 million people in a span of only months. Nearly all institutions shut down, and people confined themselves to their homes, afraid even to breathe outside air. The world was in shock. 

As I read old newspaper articles, listing school closure after school closure, I thought, “Wow, that’s crazy.” I never imagined that I would be experiencing something like it just three months later. 

However, about a week ago, all that changed.

The transition occurred very fast. One day, I was attending school, completely unaware that it would be my last normal day for a long time. The next, I was sitting at home in isolation. 

There was little time to consider the implications of the changes that were taking place, and perhaps this was for the best. Otherwise, I might have spent my final day at school crying about having no prom, stressing over when my SAT would be rescheduled, and being sad about all the things I would miss. Worst of all, from a public health standpoint, I probably would have hugged all my friends goodbye, risking further spread of SARS-CoV2.  

These past few days have been difficult. Online school has just begun. With it comes all the stress of school, but few of the perks. I miss being able to learn directly from my teachers as they write on the white board. I miss making eye contact with my friends across the room when something funny happens. 

Photo: Marie Lowry

But I am making do. I have by no means lost connection with the outside world. The other day, my friends and I scheduled a lunchtime Zoom conference. Sitting in front of a computer screen was not quite the same as sitting around the cafeteria table, but our conversations were just as fun. Instead of telling stories about what happened in English class, we told stories about the technical difficulties that prevented English class. Instead of complaining about how many things we had to do, we commiserated about how we had absolutely nothing to do. Instead of comparing grades on a math test, we compared other things, like who could complete the most jigsaw puzzles in a 24-hour period. I found that there is something beautiful, in a sort of twisted way, about everyone being in the same situation. 

Not to say that any of this outweighs the negative aspects. For example, panic. Panic in one person sets off panic in others, and in hours, stores are emptied. When people see their neighbor buying 162 rolls of toilet paper, they become concerned that they only have 10 rolls in their house. To alleviate this worry, they go to the store and buy 152 more rolls. As they do this, all the other shoppers around them become perturbed, and they too purchase excessive amounts of toilet paper. Now, the store itself no longer has any toilet paper. The concern that people previously felt shifts to panic. 

I will never be able to erase from my mind the rows and rows of empty shelves at the grocery store. At first, I found it entertaining to note the few unwanted items that did remain in stock: all-natural coconut flavored soy yogurt, maple-bacon pop tarts, flaxseed, and a few other unappealing products that I had never known existed. But as I scoured the store for normal food, I became worried. How would anyone have food? My amusement was replaced by terror. White metal shelves loomed on either side of me, unoccupied by the comforting sight of pasta boxes and the familiar crinkling sound of chip bags. This new apocalyptic reality reminded me of something: my history paper. 

As frightening as this situation is, I am thankful it is not 1918. I can find out the latest updates and CDC recommendations with a few easy clicks instead of waiting for reports on a staticky radio or a newspaper delivery. I am able to “attend” school online, I can talk on the phone whenever I want, and medicine has made enormous advances. 

Despite the technological differences between our times, though, COVID-19 — like the influenza of 1918 — is a disease that has killed and will continue to kill thousands of people. I think it is difficult for people my age to grasp the gravity of this situation. I have heard many comments from my peers that “adults are overreacting” and “school didn’t really need to be canceled.” Others have been viewing this break from school as an opportunity to see friends every day or travel for record-breaking low prices. It is understandable that teenagers might have this mindset. 

After all, young, healthy people are unlikely to become seriously ill. However, we all still have a role to play in preventing the virus’s spread and “flattening the curve” of infection rates. I keep reminding myself that I am staying at home and missing my friends not only for myself, but primarily to protect others. 

Ironically, by doing less, I am doing more. Being only 17, I have not had many opportunities to contribute to society in meaningful ways. As dire as these circumstances are, I believe that they are also special because they have empowered young people, like me, by giving us a unique opportunity to make a difference. I hope in the coming days and weeks more and more people will do all they can to respect this effort, prevent the spread, and save lives. 

Sophia David is a junior at Friends’ Central School. She lives in Swarthmore.