The experience of being sick, in case you are all too often ‘doing well’, is awful enough. Being sick during a Westridge school week? The ultimate tragedy.
First of all, as a serious student, you always need to give advance notice. That means that you must have such strong bodily intuition that you can sense that you are about to get sick 2-3 days before you show symptoms, so that you and your educators may plan accordingly.
Remember when you sneezed at lunch in the Commons, you know, when you thought you just added too much pepper to your stir fry? THAT was your cue to notify your teachers, look ahead on the reading syllabi, and announce a 2-week sickness sabbatical to all your friends and educators. If you don’t, for some reason, possess this innate gift of foresight, and you start to feel a bit dizzy and sore the night before school…then you have a big problem.
So you lie in bed that night–praying to your God or the universe or to the beyonce poster behind your bedroom door–that the scratchy feeling in your throat is just a spider you accidentally swallowed last night, or that the tinglyness all over is simply the delayed effects of your evening 5-hour energy nightcap. You’re thinking positive. You’re manifesting health.
But then you wake up and you’re so unbelievably and irrefutably sick. It feels like you could clock in at a critically ill 107 degrees. Definitely no going to school. Unless…
The most comfortable and humane option for yourself, given the circumstances, is to remain in bed. You get to rest and recover from this nasty illness, you get to relax, maybe watch some TV, and you don’t have to wear any khaki for once. Unfortunately, you will miss Ms. Cutler screaming at you in the commons because you came to school sick, but sacrifices must be made.
On the plus side, you do get to hobble your way to Starbucks and watch your favorite, strong, blonde barista (who only works during school hours) make you a medicine ball at Starbucks, a major win.
Sniffling away in your bed, tapping at your computer surrounded by an army of used tissues, you scroll the endless volumes of each syllabus you have in your Canvas-arsenal to figure out your action plan, especially since every teacher has their own preferences, some completely contradictory of each other.
“If you miss class, please email me so I can send a detailed lesson plan over.”
“If you miss class, never email me, text a friend in the class. This is college prep babe.”
You scour the course modules, emailing teachers, texting friends, trying to gather the content materials you require to teach yourself for the day and schedule any exams you may have missed, all while you toss and turn and wipe and itch in bed.
Being your own teacher for the day has to be the number one reason why students decide to go to school sick. We are already students, siblings, athletes, and devoted members of Team Drizzy, being a teacher on top of all that is too much.
Option B.) You decide to come to school.
Some of us brave the campus full of mucus, avoid the history offices like the plague, and give half apologies out to other students who are concerned they might get sick themselves.
Coming to school sick is just like regular school, except your center of gravity is off, so you could fall and crack your skull on the Westridge campus brick at any time. 50/50 chance. Not to mention you might feel so uncomfortable all day that your mind will be so preoccupied feeling awful and foggy, that none of the content material will stick.
Feels like a lose-lose situation for Westridge students. We need a bit more empathy for students who are sick. We shouldn’t blame other students, shun each other, or passively ridicule the weak. If you have something to say about someone being sick at school, leave a little complaint in the main hall comment box, that’ll show em’.
