I don’t think I’ve ever been more worried about sending my kids to school, and I’m betting you might feel the same way. I mean, unless you don’t have kids, in which case you’re probably living a worry-free existence of nonstop positive life experiences, super fun midnight dance parties, and copious disposable income. Because that’s how life works, right?

Anyway, sending our kids to pre-school was hard, and full of worry, but exciting. When our daughter graduated from the 5th grade and moved on to middle school – with a whole new building and new teachers and a daily city bus ride – it was nerve-racking. But it was an adventure.

This year is different. There’s a lot more anxiety and a lot less nervous glee. New school schedules and new friends and new locker combinations seem pretty low-pressure compared to a global pandemic featuring an evolving set of virus variants.

But also … exactly what am I going to do all damn day?

Allow me to explain.

Am I worried about my kids getting sick? Of course.

Am I worried about my kids taking part in an unintentional, city-wide super-spreader system set to strangle our health care infrastructure? Yes.

Am I worried about anti-mask and anti-vaccination campaigns creating a toxic “us vs. them” environment for students and parents and teachers alike? You bet I am.

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I work from home. I’m very lucky that way. I’m also a creature of habit. And after 18 months of pandemic, my work routines are now completely supported by a rickety scaffolding comprised of two somewhat loud kids and what they do all day. How will I function without them?

MIKE PAULUS

Am I worried about large chunks of my kids’ childhood memories getting gnarled up (or totally obliterated) because of all this? Yuuuuuuup.

But more to the point, am I worried about how this might disrupt my personal daily routines?

Most definitely.

Last year, we chose the 100% virtual route for school. This means my kids haven’t been inside an actual school building to do The Learning^TM for about 18 months. This also means that I’ve grown very accustomed to having them around. Now they’ll be leaving the house every morning, leaving my wife and I all alone.

This change will be catastrophic.

I work from home. I’m very lucky that way. I’m also a creature of habit. And after 18 months of pandemic, my work routines are now completely supported by a rickety scaffolding comprised of two somewhat loud kids and what they do all day. How will I function without them?

How will I work without my son’s trumpet blasting Ode to Joy at an iPad screen while his teacher listens from across town?

How will I work without my daughter constantly showing me YouTube clips of hilarious YouTubers referencing memes I’ve never seen about TikTok trends I barely understand?

How will I work without regular, ear-splitting shrieks in response to the cat sleeping with its front paws held in a somewhat cute position?

And how and I possibly get anything done without a regular stream of questions about “what can I have for lunch,” when the precious angels asking said questions know full well the contents of our pantry have not magically changed since yesterday?

I’m just so glad my wife, who works part time, will be home to help me through these very difficult times. I know it’s hard for her, too. I just hope she has the strength to support us both. Somehow, we must persevere.

Seriously, we’ve all grown accustomed to disruptions and changes, so I’m pretty sure we can handle this next challenge. Even so, each new wave of unpredictability holds the potential to drown our sanity. So it’s best to voice our fears and frustrations and prepare as best we can.

I know that sounds dramatic. I know there are many, many people in the world standing on far less solid ground that we have here in Eau Claire, Wisconsin. But we all want our kids to be safe. We all share that same instinct.

This year, for so many reasons, it feels like we’re sending them off to school for the first time. Except this time around the smell of freshly sharpened pencils is mixed with COVID. Literally. So it’s a lot more complex. It’s hard for them, and it’s hard for us.

Kids or no kids, I see you out there struggling to do your best and stay safe. Please know that this is important work.

Please keep at it.