Missing Milestones: How COVID-19 is changing life for one Kentucky high school senior
READ MORE
Missing Milestones
An occasional series on how COVID-19 is changing life for one Kentucky High School senior.
Expand All
Macy Dungan had accepted her senior year at Frankfort High School would likely be a letdown.
Just after 7 a.m. on Monday, Aug. 31, while the sun was still rising, a light rain fell on downtown Frankfort. The street lamps hadn’t yet clicked off as Macy, in a dress unfit for the occasion, waited under the awning of B’s Bakery for her best friend, Tatum Williams. Macy’s boyfriend, Nate O’Bryan, their friend Sam Yocum, and her mom Amy Dungan had tagged along. Tatum, also a senior, overslept. It was their first day of school and FHS, like most Kentucky schools, was starting its year virtually because of COVID-19.
B’s was closed; it had adjusted its hours because of the pandemic, which had been a threat in Kentucky for almost half a year. But they weren’t here for baked goods. Though the school year was starting online, Macy and Tatum, friends since Kindergarten, insisted they hold fast to their first-day custom of taking pictures together outside the bakery before first bell.
Most Kentucky high school seniors like Macy began their school years virtually, deprived of the typical fanfare that accompanies the start of that liminal space between childhood and adulthood. Typically after B’s, the pair would walk to school a few blocks away across the Kentucky River. Frankfort High School sits almost in the shadow of the Kentucky Capitol, where since March, Gov. Andy Beshear has tried to slow the spread of the virus, which has infected upwards of 69,000 people and killed close to 2,000.
He first shut down the economy, forcing most people to stay home for two months. While businesses have since reopened, nothing is normal. People are required to wear masks in public. Group gatherings bigger than 10 are discouraged. We’ve been urged not to hug our family and friends. This summer, horses at the Kentucky Derby ran past empty stands, and the Kentucky State Fair was closed to visitors.
In July, when the percentage of people testing positive was at its peak, Beshear strongly urged K-12 schools to wait until at least Sept. 28 before starting in-person classes. It rankled many parents and district officials, some of whom chose to reopen, anyway. But FHS adjusted its schedule to fit Beshear’s request.
Though total school enrollment is small — just over 400 students — FHS has undergone few renovations since it was built in the late 19th century. Hallways are narrow, classrooms are cramped, and social distancing even with the small student body would be difficult, Principal Tyler Reed said.
Macy agrees with the school’s choice. But she wasn’t going to let the anti-climactic act of flipping open her school-issued laptop to start her senior year rain on a day she’d been anxiously waiting for.
Macy and her family agreed to let the Herald-Leader document her senior year at FHS, to show how the virus, having trounced all sense of normalcy, is affecting the day-to-day life of a teenager preparing for adulthood.
Back at the bakery, Tatum trundled up to the group as the rain picked up, her hair still wet from her shower. “Hey Care Bear,” Macy said.
They put their arms around one another, popped their knees into a slight bend and smiled as Amy snapped pictures, documenting the start of what’s guaranteed to be one of the most bizarre and potentially challenging school years for her oldest daughter.
Life interrupted
Macy is tall enough to be mistaken for an adult. She wears glasses, has brown hair with subtle blonde highlights and broad shoulders. The seasons in her 17-year-old life are punctuated by extracurriculars: cheerleading for the high school football team in the fall; vying for class president in the winter, and starting as pitcher on the softball team in the spring.
Her demeanor is reserved, but she has a lot to say. She’s confident and conversational, excusing the silly teenage behavior of those around her and holding eye contact when she talks. She works an after-school job at a pharmacy in town, which counts as her senior year internship. She doesn’t know yet where she wants to go to college, but she hopes to study medicine.
When I first met her in front of FHS as she was collecting her schedule the week before school started, she wore a necklace that said “I [Heart] Nathaniel” that her boyfriend gave her. They’d been dating the better part of a year. Her parents are divorced, and she’s the oldest of three siblings, though she often treats her two cousins as additional brothers and sisters. There are pictures of them all over her grandparents’ house, where Macy and her friends met after B’s to begin their virtual first day.
Macy’s grandparents, Paula and David Collins, built their house on a hill at the edge of town in the late 1990s. Today it overlooks a cow pasture and is a haven for Macy’s many friends, in large part because there’s a pool, and Paula, whom everyone calls Granna, is so welcoming. Her nickname is etched into picture frames of grandchildren and flowery plaques around the living room. Granna was wearing a Frankfort High School Panthers shirt that morning for the occasion. She graduated from FHS, and so did her parents.
“You all have like two minutes to get on morning meeting,” Granna reminded them as they spread cream cheese on bagels in the kitchen.
In class and under the covers
More than 100 students were waiting on Google classrooms when Macy opened her laptop at 8:05 a.m. Most hadn’t turned their cameras off, meaning others could see their rooms. One student, a basketball player and friend of Nate’s, was still in bed under the covers — a violation of a rule the school had explicitly set, knowing the temptation would be strong for some students.
“He was awake. I don’t know if he’s still awake,” Macy said.
Students could see into teachers’ rooms, too. Macy noticed Sam’s dad, who coaches girls basketball and cross-country and track. “I guarantee you they’re all in suits on top with pajamas pants on,” she said.
Most high schools have traditions and rites of passage. For seniors at FHS, one of those traditions is their entry into the auditorium during the first day morning assembly, colloquially called the senior clap-in. Underclassmen stand at their designated seats and clap while the seniors parade across the auditorium stage like royalty, soaking up their turn to be on top. This custom is repeated at the end of the year, when underclassmen line the hallways and clap for seniors who walk through in their caps and gowns.
That tradition was doused this year with no students in the building. But Principal Reed was determined.
“In traditional fashion here at Frankfort High, we start our first assembly with an important tradition,” he said. “Unfortunately we can’t do it in person, but we still have our senior clap-in. So if everyone can take off their mute.”
It was the first virtual snafu of the day: not giving concrete directions before asking hundreds of teenagers to unmute themselves, creating a rippling, incessant echo. Some students began clapping, but it was muddled by the reverberations. Macy and her friends looked at each other.
‘Rise Above’
FHS’s motto this year is “Rise Above,” Principal Reed said. “We want to rise above this pandemic we’re in. We want to rise above the social tension our world is facing. Despite this being virtual, we still feel we’re in a situation to improve our educational status and be the best school in the state of Kentucky.”
He reminded students of the virtual schedule: Mondays and Thursdays were for periods 1-4, Tuesdays and Fridays were for 5-8. Each 80-minute class was separated with a 20-minute break, and lunch was an hour. Wednesday was lab time.
Twice during his explanation, the echo started again, like a satellite pinging outer space. The only option was to wait until it died down. Reed called out a student and told her to mute her mic.
Assembly ended with “seniors, head to first period,” which fell flat.
Macy swapped her dress for sweatpants and a shirt that said, “I don’t have an accent, y’all do,” and half-reclined on the couch as she readied for the first class of her senior year — biology.
To Be Continued: Our Missing Milestones series will continue with occasional installments throughout the 2020-21 school year.
This story was originally published October 2, 2020 at 10:09 AM.
