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Being a teenager is hard under any circumstances, but I’m inspired by my ninth-graders’��resilience in the virtual��world.

Brimming with optimism back in July, I diligently��checked off the items that I’d need��for my ��ɫ��Ƶ uniform��during��a��typical year��of service. I felt��like a kid shopping for school supplies again.��I knew I’d be starting my service year virtually,��but I was eager to start��repping��my program, so I��sought out the��flyest,��black,��non-denim non-yoga pants��and mostly black��closed-toed shoes. And��then they sat in my closet for��ten��months��while I��continued��joining��Zoom meetings from my bedroom��on the East Side.����

Four seasons, two administrations and one attempted��coup; spiking COVID-19 cases in my own��family and thousands more; excruciating debates about��the return to in-person learning in the��Milwaukee Public Schools system: I rocked my bomber-and-sweatpants��chic throughout it all.����

But an elastic waistband and the three-foot commute��from my bed to my desk can’t ease the��heartbreak that I feel for my��ninth graders��every��day. While serving in bilingual English and��Geometry classes as a member of the Chavez Cardinals��Team at South Division High School,��I’ve watched the same students’ names cycle in and��out of virtual classrooms over and over as��their internet connections waver, and silently begged��them to find the energy to come back just��one more time. Some students unmute themselves to��ask questions over the sound of screaming��baby siblings, while others haven’t spoken up since��January. Many don’t have cellphones and��have resorted to using teachers’ office hours links��to hang out with their friends.����

I can tell they’re lonely, bored and frustrated—as��if being a teenager isn’t already lonely, boring��and frustrating enough. I believe decades will pass��before we fully understand the toll that the��COVID-19 pandemic��has had��on the hearts and minds��of high school students in Milwaukee��and elsewhere.����

What dazzling hearts and minds, though! I’m present��from the shoulders up every day to provide��all the support I’m capable of, but for a more selfish��reason as well: I get to be in awe of my��students’ grit and, somehow, their continued joy for learning; and of my teammates’ and��partner��teachers’ compassion and patience.����

My emotional lifeboat��is the student’s mom who decorated a��room in their house to look like a classroom; another��student who suddenly submitted a��months-long backlog of geometry homework after we��called home to check in; and another one��who recently asked me for an extra list of poems��to��read during our poetry unit (the same student��once encouraged my Spanish skills so kindly that I��had to turn off my camera so no one would��see me tearing up).��

I’ve decided to dedicate a second year of my life��to service as a Team Leader with ��ɫ��Ƶ��Milwaukee for these students, but also for the ones we��never see, who I’m terrified will fall through��the many yawning cracks in��the inequitable education��system. I know that��every single one of them��is capable��of��keeping��me��an optimist, if I can only give��them the opportunity. Also, maybe I’ll��finally be��able to break in those oxfords.��

Do you know an 18-25 year old interested in doing a year of service with ��ɫ��Ƶ Milwaukee? Encourage them to��.

About the Author:

Clare Eigenbrode is a super-proud, first-year AmeriCorps member on the Chavez Cardinals Team at South Division High School and an alumna of Beloit College. When asked why she serves, Clare said, “I serve for the students at my hometown high school, including myself, who struggled because we didn’t always have an academic mentor who understood us as a whole individual while we were students. I’m inspired by ��ɫ��Ƶ’s commitment to the value of ‘service to a cause greater than self,’ because I have always found my sense of identity in the communities I belong to. ��ɫ��Ƶ Milwaukee and Corps 11 are two of those communities.”��