How One Formative Year Changed Everything For An Entire Generation

By Ella R. Geoghegan

I am honored to share this guest blog post from my 19-year-old daughter, who has displayed amazing grace, grit, and courage over these past few years. Covid may have altered her course in life, but it didn’t extinguish her spark.

It’s no secret that the COVID shutdown took a toll on academics, but English, math, and science aren’t the only things that fell to the wayside during remote learning. In another life (which feels incredibly odd to say at 19), before I discovered my love for horses, I was a percussionist. Thanks to a magnificent elementary school music teacher and principal, I had been since the third grade. I had decided relatively early on to pursue that passion for music at least into high school, but more than likely beyond. I set my sights on the number one high school in the state, which had a prestigious school for the performing arts. To achieve that goal, I left my closest friends behind to attend a middle school that fed directly into this top high school. While that middle school had a myriad of issues long before COVID was even a thought, I suffered through because of my love of music. The only class that I enjoyed was band class. Making music with those people and that director made it worth it, as did knowing that getting through middle school would allow me to reach my goals. I may not have had many friends; in fact, many of my peers wouldn’t speak to me at all after they discovered my viewpoints (I won’t call them political, since we were 12, but it’s safe to say conservatism wasn’t widespread), but music was worth it. And so eighth grade came around, and I dedicated my school days and evenings to rehearsal and private lessons. It was my life, and I was okay with that. I practiced tirelessly, auditioned, got accepted, and was overjoyed. Then came March 13, 2020.

I left middle school without looking back. I never got the eighth-grade dance, the end-of-year field trips, or any “fun parts” at the end of middle school, but I didn’t mind because I had so much to look forward to. Later that year, I would do what I had worked so hard for: studying percussion in one of the nation's best programs and fine-tuning my craft under a top-notch instructor. Not only that, but I would get to make music alongside the other top musicians in the state, many of whom I had looked up to for years. We waited all summer to hear how the schools and band directors were handling shutdowns, and when the email came that we would all be sent home with keyboard instruments (I received a marimba) so that we could begin remote learning, I was disappointed to say the least. That meant making music at home, alone, in my grandparents’ basement. Not exactly the dream I had thought it would be. It was okay, though; it would only be for a short time, and then we would be back in the classroom making music together like we all love to do so much. However, weeks turned into months with no sign of us returning to in-person school.

My academic effort was also teetering on the edge during this time. I was doing what I had to do to pass classes and get decent grades without learning much of anything. This was also the year I had four physics teachers (two of whom were long-term subs with little knowledge of physics) and a geometry teacher trying to teach his elementary age children, resulting in him passing the entire class with A’s regardless of effort or attendance. I attended many of my Zoom band classes in tears due to frustration with the lack of progress I was making, and the complete isolation I felt doing the thing that had once brought me so close to others. I would record my parts to send in for grading, and crop out my face so that my director couldn’t see the tears in my eyes. My skills were not only not being fine-tuned; they were falling behind. I cared less and less for the music I was making by the day. Percussion parts are essential to any symphonic band, but they can feel a bit flat on their own. So instead of creating beautiful music with a full band of my peers, I was alone in a quiet basement recording myself playing dull, boring bits and pieces of music.

This clip is from a much longer video where I am participating in full band run-through rehearsals for our “winter concert.” (The concert was pre-recorded and edited together…) I have a wireless earbud in, so you would not hear the class, regardless, but every student was on mute, playing through the piece individually. How uninspiring. I’m almost sure you can see the love of music leave my eyes. But this was just one of hundreds of classes I attended, just like this. Whether it was band, percussion ensemble, or English class, these remote learning sessions only taught me apathy toward learning. By the time our end-of-year concert came around (the only time that year I stepped foot in the school building), I had decided I was not returning for the next school year. I would finish high school through an online homeschool course and step away from percussion entirely. I had always foreseen myself attending college and playing percussion through those studies, but that one year was enough to completely alter my perspective on academics and my passion for music.

Despite the challenges, I consider myself one of the fortunate ones. I left that school thinking I would be searching for a decent future. Instead, I was given an opportunity to work for a horse trainer, which resulted in me diving headfirst into the equine industry. I finished high school a semester early while working full time at a job I love. I have had numerous unforgettable experiences that would have never been possible had I stayed on my original path.

Unfortunately, I watched many of my peers take a steep nosedive after being so isolated. They kept on the path they were told was right for them, but were, and remain, incredibly lost. They, too, lost their spark and passion, but most have been unable to relight that spark. Now they go through life apathetic about learning and uninterested in the world. Most attend college simply because it allows them to push the “real world” and careers further into the distance, or because they want to party. Once great students find themselves stuck in a permanent mental fatigue. It just doesn’t matter anymore. Why give any effort? Already burnt out before they have even begun their careers. It was just one year, but one formative year in complete isolation changed everything for an entire generation.

Ella Geoghegan is learning the ins and outs of running a small business firsthand as manager of a tack supply store. In her free time, she trains her horse, Fitz (named after F. Scott Fitzgerald), with her trusty sidekick, Winnie, the best herding dog around

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