A Love Letter to My Public Health Students During a Global Pandemic

Dear Students of PH510 Spring 2020:

A few weeks have passed since our last Zoom class, ending the strangest semester of my career at BU (Boston University). I am relieved the semester is over but I miss you.

When we first met in January, I thought you were a typical bunch of BU undergraduates enrolled in an introduction to public health class—diverse, interesting, worried, funny, stressed, committed, and so very smart. On the first day of class we talked about the new virus in China, and how we might want to pay attention to it during the semester. We had no idea.

Then, March, when it became clear from news of cruise ships and Washington State and Italy that things were going terribly wrong, many of you reached out to me—what should I do? Should I stay in Boston for break? Take my planned trip to Europe? What is going to happen?

I had so few answers for you.

Suddenly we heard that you would not be on campus, and we would be online for at least a month (later to become for the rest of the semester). I logged in for our first day of online class absolutely dreading what was to come—What if none of you showed up? What if I screwed up the technology? How could I be “me” over a screen? Then slowly, steadily, your names all started to pop up on my screen. And there you were—almost all of you—in your bedrooms, your kitchens, on the porch, hidden behind a blank screen, but on—online and in class. You were literally scattered across the country and the world, but you were with me.

What you proceeded to do over the next couple of months was remarkable. You were engaged, you were tenacious, you were resilient, and you were present. I got to meet you dogs, your cats, one pet iguana, and your mom. I got to see you walk around your house, eat lunch, yell at your sister. I got to see your worried faces, your happy faces, your boredom, your fear, all of it. You had thoughtful, reflective questions, you were engaged in the material, you wanted to learn, and you wanted to share what you knew and what you were thinking. You wrote amazing assignments—you went beyond the (revised) expectations for assignments and submitted thoughtful, smart, elegant work.

Instead of dreading teaching online I started to look forward to it—a time for us to learn together about the virus, and about public health. A time to make sense of what was and is happening to all of us at once. We stayed connected both in and out of class—you emailed and texted me, you posted in the chat, you participated during class.

Perhaps this is what I will take away from this unprecedented semester: if we stay connected to each other, if we stay open to learning from and with one another in an engaged community (even if virtual), we can, and we will, get through this time.

I’m proud of you for not giving up—for continuing to learn, and staying engaged in the work of our class. I’m proud of you for your resilience and your strength. I’m proud of you for getting through the semester—imperfect, annoying, gratifying as it was.

As I said on our last day of class, I have long believed that students only learn through love: when teachers love their students. Yes, it’s a little weird, a little out there, a little risky to admit. But I love you, I loved being your teacher, and I’m so grateful to have gone through this time with each and every one of you.

With love and gratitude,