I often joke that the risk-taking gene runs down one of my family lines. It does not appear in every family member, but as you go down the line, it appears in many.

I like to call it the jumping gene. It helps me move forward against ridiculous odds, and lifts me when I feel down.

My oldest son, Erick, has it. I remember his 13th fall off a horse. He sprang to his feet, did a first pump, and yelled “Lucky 13!”.

My own risk gene has suffered a bit, through upbringing and life experience. Fear is a big barrier to risk.

COVID-19 has created its own brand of risk. You can’t see it, hear it, or smell it. We assume risk just leaving home.

My youngest son, James, has gone to summer school the past two summers. I was pleased to learn this year’s classes would be at his own school.

But as summer wore on, and the date for summer school grew closer, I became concerned. It was close to the opening of the school year. It would be every weekday. (The school district’s current fall plan, not final, is for hybrid days in and out of school).

Then my mask wearing kid balked at having to keep the mask on for longer periods of time. Now we need to practice that.

I considered the space between the end of summer school and the start of the school year. Eleven days. What if he was quarantined for exposure to a student or teacher with COVID? Would Erick and I have to quarantine, too? Finally, what if he got sick?

I decide the risk was simply too great. Like all the other BASD parents, I’m making plans for the school year, and waiting for the district to finalize its opening plan.

I hope the school board understands the risks, and decides wisely.