AISAP52

“After this is all over.” “When things go back to normal.” “After COVID.” These phrases became our constant companions during the 2020 year and into 2021. They were, in time, replaced by, “maybe next year,” “if we ever get back to normal,” and “sometime.” The journey back to normalcy has been a long and winding one. The certainty things would go back to the way they were- was replaced by uncertainty. And now, it just feels like perpetual pause. Each frame of movement advancing just enough to get you to the next event, the next question, the next stressor.

This pandemic has caused a time warp. Things only exist in the here and now or “before COVID.” Sometimes it seems we were just doing things the old way a few months ago, and other times it hits us just how much time has passed.

First, when we went home in March of 2020, we thought we were on an extended spring break and would be back about three weeks later. When it became clear that that was not to be the case, we dove into the unknown, learning how to do this very personal job in the most impersonal ways. We laughed at the novelty of our first Zoom staff meetings, we stressed over the impossibility of hosting Virtual Open Houses but then figured out how to do them - and fast! We gathered around one another in this profession to share information at a rate we’ve seldom seen before.

And, despite the distance and the screen time, we got surprisingly good at it. And while it was clear it was no one’s first choice (a phrase I say so often it has lost all meaning), we were thriving in the unfamiliar world created by the pandemic. But just as we began to settle into the new normal, it looked like things were getting better. Vaccination rates headed up, vaccines for children were on the horizon, and the promise of a turn towards the old normal felt within reach.

So, we find ourselves in this year of nots. This school year is not as bad as the last. This year is not back to normal. This year things are not fully remote, but they’re not fully in-person either. Some folks are vaccinated, some campuses are nearly fully vaccinated, while others have age groupings that make that impossible. Some places have masking under control. Other places see new cases and breakthrough cases spreading quickly. It is the year of everything and nothing, paused between frames.

We find ourselves, this year able to open up a bit, but not all the way. We find ourselves making plans only for the current month, unable to think ahead. We are Zooming and finding safe ways to do in-person programming. We have hybrid programming, virtual programming, remote programming, in-person programming, with each school and regional area operating differently. But we must acknowledge that each type of programming should be thought out, planned, and carried out by admission and enrollment teams made up of the same humans who, 20 months ago, planned and carried out just a single set of “normal” programming.

Recognizing the silver linings has been a common conversation among admission professionals I’ve interacted with over the last several months. There has been a definite recognition that some of the virtual programming may be here to stay. We saw value in its accessibility and ease of use for many families. We saw parents join programming from their desk at work or while cooking dinner. We engaged with people in ways that made a trek to campus unnecessary. The new frontier of the admission and enrollment profession is blurry and undecided. At present, we “pivot” and “balance,” we remain “flexible,” we “rethink.” We try to create programming that covers all the bases: programming that is safe, meaningful, convenient, personal, engaging, and authentic. But there has been no time for reflection nor to be proactive, only the need to react, in the short term and hope we haven’t missed something. The luxury of review and debrief went out the window and we are just doing. The things we do all feel temporary and none of them seem like something we can stake in the ground, something we can consider permanent.

It feels a little like when we first went home and people found themselves working, parenting, and homeschooling their children full time, and feeling as though one human does not split three, or four, or seven ways. It’s the same now with the admission season. A buffet of programming types, platforms, and protocols sits before us with families who have felt starved of the normal, just as we have. And so we do it all.

So, to all my admission and enrollment colleagues out there who cannot see the surface of their desks, who triage their email inbox knowing it’s hopeless, and who smile at their ring light one day, and at their 3D guests the next, bravo! It’s been a long time and a long haul. I congratulate you on the months and months that have gone before you and I wish you luck on the months ahead. Even if we must take it one frame at a time.