By Kelli R. Brown • Guest Columnist | These are uncertain and challenging times. Our communities, our state and our nation are grappling with an unprecedented set of issues that affect each and every one of us. 

As Chancellor of Western Carolina University, your regional public university, I believe that institutions of higher education can help prepare our citizens to live through times like these – how to cope, how to manage and perhaps not just survive, but thrive. 

From my earliest memories, the back-to-school season has been a flurry of excitement. Both my parents were teachers. I worked in the field for 10 years and have two children who have been in the public education system for seven years. Shopping for new outfits and backpacks, anxiously awaiting supply lists and taking last minute summer trips have been a part of my life forever. 

In the streets of Western North Carolina, mostly young protestors calling for an end to structural and sometimes violent racism are being confronted by working-class Americans who think many of those grievances are illegitimate. Statues of Confederates and former slaveholders are toppling, and those that remain will forever be looked upon differently.

I’ve been looking at the stars a lot lately. It started several weeks ago. 

It was 10:18 p.m. on a Sunday. We were driving the parkway, windows rolled down, Van Morrison on the radio. My boyfriend, Matthew, looked over and squeezed my knee. 

By Dale Carpenter • Guest Columnist | North Carolina public schools will reopen while the COVID-19 Pandemic is still with us and it is impossible to predict what will happen as we try to cope with the complexity of it all. Parents, educators and students are learning to adjust day by day to changing conditions. 

Edisto Beach, SC — As if this year weren’t already weird enough, my son is in the bathroom of our rented house shaving for the first time. His mom has been onto him about needing to shave and for reasons known only to a teenage boy — or maybe not even known to him — he has chosen this moment, just after a twilight walk on Steamboat Landing to look for little frogs and then watch dolphins from the pier, for this milestone.

By Brandi Hinnant-Crawford • Guest Columnist | In 2014, on my 30th birthday, I got a call from my former department head offering me a job at Western Carolina University. I was ecstatic; I was going home. Upstate New York winters are not kind to girls raised in the south (aka GRITS), and the Old North State is the state I love more than any other in the union — everyone was happy. Two years after living in Jackson County, I heard about these amazing kindergarten classrooms at Hazelwood Elementary; I wanted my kids to have this wonderful experience. After apartment living for two years, I moved into a colleague’s house in Waynesville. Finally—the west was feeling like home. My kids had a yard, and I had Belk (Modern, Southern, Style!). Plus, Waynesville is halfway between my Cullowhee office and Biltmore Park classroom. Jackpot! 

To the Editor:

I am writing this to the Haywood County School Board and the citizens of Haywood County.

My name is Brandon Milan. I am a decade-long resident of Haywood County and the white father of two Black children, one of whom is already a student in the Haywood County School system. 

I was walking my animal last night at sunset, enjoying the evening views and cool temps, thinking back to the July 4 weekend. Along the way, it hit me that half of 2020 is now in the history books. The verdict is still out as to how this time will be viewed by those who look back, but hell, it sure feels like the world is in a different orbit.

Before wading into the murk of America’s bizarre tug of war with itself in the year of COVID-19, let’s first stipulate one thing: we’d all love for this to be over. Wearing masks, social distancing, arguing with people on social media over who and what to believe, some of us sweating out every decision on where we can go and who we can see and what we can do and not do any time we venture out of our little quarantine cocoons, others proceeding with their lives as if not one thing has changed. We’re just over it, OK?