The time was about 4:54 p.m., on Thursday, March 12. I received a notice in a WhatsApp group of people in my teaching cohort said that our schools would be closed until March 27. A part of me was skeptical of misinformation until I saw Maryland governor, Larry Hogan, release a press conference confirming that all Maryland public schools would be closing to contain the spread of the Coronavirus.

I remember the exhilaration and excitement I felt at the time. I wasn't scared about the rapid spread of COVID-19, nor was I concerned much at all about the safety of at-risk populations from the Coronavirus.

I rejoiced because I had a break, and I knew for certain that I needed one. I had a hard day at my school where one of my students got hurt in my class, where I struggled to contain and manage my kids, where my kids weren't engaged with my lesson. And that doesn't even describe half of the challenges I had that day, as I have a survival and coping mechanism of not thinking about work. It was yet another day of my first year as a teacher in inner-city Baltimore, and I was glad to just have a break.

My school, also, is about to close, and although I haven't personally checked out for the year, I find it increasingly hard every day to go into work. I love my kids, and I love my job, but I, too, am human. I'm tired of feeling like I'm not good enough on a daily basis. I'm tired of feeling like I let my kids down. With the school closing, a lot of my friends and I are grateful to have a fresh start and a less stressful placement where we have to deal with so much daily trauma and seemingly insurmountable challenges.

We went into work the next day, discussing the crisis and discussing how to get work out to the kids. Some teachers have devoted themselves to making online lessons and using technology to get through to their kids. But in Baltimore, a standardized system could not be made. Not every kid has access to electronics and Internet access to have equitably engage in online and technology-centered lessons.

But we acknowledged how we all felt. We felt run-down. We felt burned out, and a lot of us acknowledged feeling grateful for getting the break and the time off.

It has been almost a week after we closed for two weeks, and I haven't treated my break like a full-on vacation, but I haven't been the most engaged to checking on my kids through their parents, either. I have simply taken the time to recharge, spend time with my girlfriend, a couple friends, all while adequately social distancing.

I have been asked if I miss being in the classroom and I miss my kids.

My honest answer? No. I do not. Again, I love my kids, but I needed a genuine break from interacting with them all the time. Take a look at the teacher community on Reddit to see a lot of teachers who have similar experiences of finally engaging in hobbies they haven't done in years, of teachers who finally read that book they've been meaning to read for months.

I have spent a lot more time writing than I have in a while. I have read. I have played video games that I've been putting aside. I have filed my taxes, caught up with friends I've struggled to keep in touch with. I've slept well, watched TV, exercised. I've actually cooked. For all this, I feel refreshed and rejuvenated.

And I know the cause behind me getting this break is a pandemic-level emergency in the spread of the Coronavirus. With the rapidly spreading number of cases in Maryland, there's chance that we might be out longer. Like some states, there's a chance we might be out the whole year.

Am I a bad teacher for being this grateful for being out of school? Am I a bad person for being partially grateful for the Coronavirus? Am I an even worse person for silently wishing that the speculation from my friends in the medical community is right, that we will be out of school all year?

I think about my students and I do occasionally wonder if they're working on their learning packets that us teachers and the districts made for them, but honestly? I need this time off. I need this break. I know that the fact that this is a break for me is privilege: I have food in the fridge and a roof above my head, as well as an Internet connection to keep me occupied. Not everyone has those same privileges, and it's important to not forget about how class shapes your experience and chances of survival during the pandemic.

But a part of me is grateful for the Coronavirus putting life on hold, for giving me time to breathe. Yes, I know the cost is a worldwide pandemic that limits gatherings of more than 50 people. I know it's a pandemic that has killed more than 10,000 people around the world, that will infect so many more and kill so many more. What if my parents got the Coronavirus? What if my grandparents did?

A lot of my friends who are my age feel invincible around the Coronavirus. My students did as well, giving me the common refrain that "it's just a flu." But the aggressive precautions we're taking are saving lives, and that means that no matter how I or anyone else feels, schools are just a place where a lot of people gather in a small area, and need to be shut down for that reason.

Perhaps I'm not such a bad person for being grateful for my Coronavirus-imposed break because a lot of educators feel the same way. The burdens on teachers are that there's always a lot to do from IEPs to write, lessons to plan, parents to call, and kids to manage that very few people are going to thank you for. That leads to some exasperation, and even bitterness, especially near the end of the school year.

I feel less worn down, less depressed after a given day now. I have energy. My mental health is significantly better. I need to recharge. It's not just a part of me that's grateful to have this break -- it's almost all of me. When you work a high-stress, high-trauma job like teaching in the inner-city, you need time for self-care, even if it comes in the form of the Coronavirus.