My senior year of high school was all about parties, prom, one last wild class camping trip, and midnight diner runs with friends before we all sped away to our far-flung future lives. We stayed up all night after graduation, knowing that we were on the brink of brand-new worlds.
My youngest son, Gabriel, a graduating high school senior, has been sleepless a lot this year, too. But that’s because he, like the rest of the members of what I consider the class of COVID-19, already lives in a world that is transforming in a way that seems apocalyptic rather than promising.
This is not the senior year any of the estimated 3.7 million members of the class of 2020 imagined.
