24 COVID-19: Chronicles of a Contemporary Contagion

During my COVID experience, we went into full lockdown for about six months beginning in March 2020, which resulted in many day-to-day changes. My sister and I spent the mornings completing schoolwork at our dining room table; my dad worked from home; my mom had been furloughed. We only left the house for nature walks and grocery shopping, where we were required to wear masks and maintain social distancing. I was not allowed to visit my friends or my grandparents; instead, we connected over the phone or with Netflix Party—a browser feature that synchronously streams movies from separate locations.

This reflection is a timeline of events as I experienced them, with a few themes that connect COVID to other plagues in world history.

Anticipating Disaster: January 2020 – March 2020 

I was a hospital volunteer when COVID first gained global attention. At the time, I actually relied on newspapers in the break room for updates on the emerging threat. I remember reading about the death of the doctor who identified COVID in Wuhan, China. Then, I began to worry as global infection numbers rose and cases eventually arrived in Canada.

Connecting to Past Plagues: March 2020 

COVID was declared a pandemic by the World Health Organization on March 11, 2020. Each person’s reaction to this varied, and so my COVID experience connects closely to the course theme of social implications of plagues. Massive outbreaks of any disease are highly visible and can arrive suddenly, eliciting a societal response. During COVID, there were two camps of respondents: those who dismissed the virus and those who considered it a serious threat.

COVID-deniers often opposed public health mandates such as social distancing and quarantining. The anti-mask movement was an especially visible example of this. For this faction, the social and economic disruption caused by business closures posed a more worrisome threat than the infection itself. In my experience, this group represented a minority. I took the virus seriously, as did most of my social circle. We tuned in to news about the evolving pandemic, tracked case counts, and followed public health directives. Our obsessive response was driven in part by a fear of getting sick, a reaction that I now understand is common. Plagues induce fear because they appear without warning, seem to affect everyone, cause terrifying symptoms, and disrupt social systems. This was certainly how it felt during COVID. In the early days, we heard stories about doctors at the centre of the first outbreak dying from infection complications, making it seem sudden, deadly, and indiscriminate. Furthermore, although the symptoms of COVID did not disfigure like smallpox or Hansen’s disease, the mounting death toll and widening geographic spread were alarming. Outside my social circle, there were extreme reactions to this fear of contagion. Some bought toilet paper, canned foods, and water in bulk, clearing out grocery stores. Others blamed immigrants and travelers for bringing the virus to Canada. For example, there was stigma and animosity directed towards Asians because the first major outbreak of COVID-19 was documented in China. Later in the pandemic, those who tested positive for COVID were avoided as carriers of disease.

This collection of positive (e.g., acceptance of public health initiatives) and negative (e.g., stigma) responses represented a significant shift in social norms, highlighting the importance of examining more than just the biological factors in disease outbreaks. The social implications of plagues have been seen in other diseases such as the Black Death. Caused by Yersinia pestis, this infection was associated with horrible symptoms and death. The resulting fear led some to flee plague-ridden towns, some to pray, and some to blame Jewish communities. Both COVID and the Black Death were events so disruptive that self-preservation and blame arose as mechanisms to cope with the fear of disease and social chaos.

Living as a Student in Lockdown: March 2020 – September 2020 

Quarantine was in full effect after March Break. There were closures of all schools. Social gatherings were discouraged. I was only allowed to spend time with those living in my house.

School was entirely virtual from March 2020 to June 2020. My teachers posted asynchronous lessons, homework problems, and textbook readings. My sister and I spent most of the lockdown at the dining room table completing these tasks. The lack of guidance from instructors was challenging, but ultimately, this experience made me a more resourceful and resilient learner.

I can identify two long-term impacts of virtual schooling for myself and others my age. First, the pandemic accelerated technological literacy. Before lockdown, my teachers relied on physical textbooks and worksheets; it was rare to have online discussions and homework submissions. Then suddenly, lockdown required everything to be virtual. When I returned to a hybrid school model in September 2020, technology continued to play a significant role. All assignments were submitted electronically. Lessons were delivered in hybrid: half of the class attended in person, while the other half attended via Teams. Today, every one of my courses has at least one learning management system. Most lectures are recorded. Assignments are submitted online. Thanks to lockdown, I quickly learned to use technology to support my education.

I believe that virtual schooling during COVID also affected study habits. Some students likely benefited from online learning, as it forced them to become self-directed learners. My sister and I, for example, spent hours on schoolwork every day during lockdown. However, I imagine that some struggled to stay motivated. The lack of supervision would have made it easy to lose focus. Teachers could not force students to engage in the material, and many parents who worked from home were unable to monitor their child’s progress. As a result of this, virtual schooling may have created gaps in knowledge and a lapse in study skills that have carried forward to today.

Easing Restrictions: September 2020 – January 2022 

My world began to cautiously reopen in September 2020 and restrictions would noticeably ease in January 2022. I received my first COVID vaccine on March 11, 2021, coincidentally one year after COVID was declared a pandemic. As a hospital volunteer, I received a letter that allowed me to receive a vaccine when it was first rolled out.

Grade 12 was delivered as a hybrid of in-person and virtual classes. I had to fill out a COVID questionnaire and show my “green check” before entering the classroom. The school year was arranged into “quad-mesters” —four semesters, each with two subjects taught over two months. I graduated in a virtual ceremony in June 2021.

In September 2021, I began university. As per McMaster’s policy, all classes and labs were virtual for the Fall semester and would return in-person in the Winter. In January 2022, masks were required indoors, but I finally got to have an in-person university experience.