Class of Covid: 2023 grads reflect on their journey to high school graduation

G

raduation has finally arrived for the Class of 2023.

And for this year's graduating seniors, their high school experience was unlike any other: A global pandemic hit in their first year and upended education as we knew it.

Some have dubbed these grads as the "Class of Covid," because the pandemic overlapped with every one of their high school years.

KUOW's education reporter Sami West brings us profiles of two graduates, who reflected on how the pandemic shaped their high school experience.

Renn Novak

Renn Novak filled her first year of high school with all kinds of activities.

She played euphonium and trombone for the Mercer High School marching band, and was on the lacrosse, swimming, and ultimate frisbee teams. Some days, she'd wake up at 5 a.m. then get home well after midnight, absolutely exhausted.

But in March 2020, all of it came to a screeching halt. Novak remembers walking to her English class when the announcement came: School would close for six weeks to fend off this new virus called Covid-19.

"You just heard the whole hallway erupt in cheers," Novak recalled. "And I was like, 'Oh my gosh, this is so exciting. We're going to be back.'"

"So then I went to my English class and my English teacher actually lent me a book to borrow over the break," she continued, "because I was like, 'Oh, I'm gonna read a book. Oh, I'm gonna have all these cool new hobbies. I'm gonna learn how to knit and stuff.'"

That day marked a massive turning point in her high school experience and her life.

For graduating seniors like Novak, the pandemic hit just as a formative chapter of life was beginning.

"I was starting to find my path in high school," Novak said. "It was actually really hard for me ... Suddenly you're rid of all your activities and all of a sudden you're like in a vacuum. And you have to be alone with yourself for a really long time."

On a recent afternoon, as students trickled out of school, Novak reflected on her last four years and how Covid set her on a different course.

As the disruption from the so-called "normal high school experience" dragged on, Novak hit a breaking point.

She'd long struggled with depression and anxiety, but this was something different entirely. With no sports, activities, or friends to keep her busy, Novak felt isolated.

"There was just a lot of times where I felt so alone and I felt scared of what my future was going to look like," she said. "I wasn't sure if I was going to make it to be 18. And it was a really, really hard time for me."

She knew she needed help.

In the summer of 2020, Novak went back to therapy after a long hiatus.

Over time, she realized her first-year schedule was unsustainable and she focused on lacrosse and her studies when school started returning to normal.

She also took another big step: She came to terms with her identity. On National Coming Out Day that fall, Novak came out to her family as bisexual.

Having grown up Catholic, Novak worried about how her family would react. So she tried to make light of her announcement.

"I came out in like the corniest way ever," Novak recalled with a laugh. "I made a cake and I called it my 'gay-ke' ... coated it in some rainbow sprinkles and on the top I wrote — this is embarrassing to admit — 'Bi the way, I like guys and girls.'"

Novak now identifies as queer and her girlfriend joins her family for dinner regularly.

She credits the pandemic with much of her self discovery in high school.

"I felt like I grew a lot from that, and I don't know if I would have reached the same kind of point of self introspection," Novak said. "I think I'd be kind of in the dark still with a lot of stuff about myself."

Covid was the catalyst for Novak to get help for her depression and anxiety. And, in a way, the pandemic prompted her to come out and generally be more open and unapologetic about who she is.

She joined her school's radio station and started a podcast centered on mental health and LGBTQ+ issues.

Novak will attend Whitman College in Walla Walla this fall. She's thinking of studying biology and maybe psychology, and she'll continue to play lacrosse.

Eva Miranda

Eva Miranda wears a navy cap and gown. "Pomp and Circumstance" booms over the speakers as she walks onstage.

At one point of the ceremony, one of Miranda's most supportive teachers stands beside her and gives a short speech in her honor.

"Thank you for sharing yourself with us — that is no small thing," she said. "Thank you for slowly allowing us to be a bigger part of your story. I know that has not been easy. I know that you have fought and endured."

Talking to Miranda later, she said it's hard to put that moment into words.

"Going on stage and seeing everyone there," she said, "it felt surreal to me, like it was not happening."

It was a long journey to get to graduation day. As a member of the so-called "Covid class," graduating seniors like Miranda never really got a "normal" year of high school. But for Miranda, Covid struck at an already challenging time.

She was born in El Salvador, then moved to the States with her family when she was 3 years old.

Often, her mom couldn't make ends meet, and they moved around the West Coast a lot before landing in Redmond.

When Miranda was around 13 years old, they became homeless for about a year.

"It was quite hectic," Miranda recalled. "There was a lot of chaos and there was even trauma that was inflicted. And I was dealing with it by drinking, which is a terrible coping mechanism. But a certain scenario made me spiral."

That spiral happened in her first year of high school at Eastlake in Sammamish. Her casual drinking had escalated to addiction.

It came to a head one night at a party.

"They had to call the ambulance because I had drank so much that I completely blacked out," Miranda recalled. "The ambulance, they were all saying that if it had been more time, I wouldn't have been there."

"That, to me, was a really big eye opener that I had to try to make a change," she said.

Miranda spent a week at a behavioral hospital, and when she returned, her school recommended she transfer to Eastside Academy, or EA. It's a nonprofit alternative Christian high school and treatment program in Bellevue.

Miranda was just getting settled there when Covid hit.

She lived at the school, along with several other students, so classes continued in person. Life for the most part went on as normal, except for masking and constant Covid testing.

Counseling and recovery classes were embedded in the school day and classes were small. Miranda and her classmates became like family, as they learned to cope with their challenges together.

"EA was just helpful in taking me away from that situation and just giving me all their love and support and caring for me," Miranda said.

At the end of the year, as the pandemic wore on, Miranda moved back home to support her mom and siblings. Her sophomore year, she returned to her old high school in Samammish and logged in for online classes.

It was jarring and didn't engage her.

"Everyone had their cameras off," Miranda said. "No one was speaking, it was just the teacher giving a brief lesson and then giving us the assignment."

One time, she fell asleep during class.

"I woke up to my teacher like screaming at me because everyone had gone and he's like, 'I know you're asleep, just wake up please,'" Miranda recalled with a laugh.

She decided to go back to her program at the alternative high school and got back on track.

She's been taking college classes through the state's Running Start program. She's relapsed a couple of times, but her close-knit school supported her through it all.

If it weren't for Covid, and her disastrous virtual learning experience, Miranda might not have returned to Eastside Academy and the community there that helped her get to where she is today: Sober and heading off to Bellevue College to study business management and finance.

But before all that, Miranda got her moment — when her head of school instructed her and her fellow graduates to move their tassels from the right to the left.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "it is my honor to present to you the Eastside Academy graduating class of 2023."

Miranda beamed as she took it all in. Then she tossed her graduation cap up and into the cheering audience.