Snails

Today, my son took a snail for a ride on his bicycle.

I'm not sure the snail was able to comprehend what was happening to it or whether it enjoyed the speed at which it traveled. It was a funny image and we need those right now.

It made me wonder if other beings could conceivably be on a higher plane of intelligence than we are, so much so that we would be as snails to them. This is not the type of "what if" thinking I usually find myself engaging in, as I'm more of a realist these days. But it makes me wonder.

What amazing bike rides are we missing because we're snails?

You're Okay

English teacher, trapped in the house for a month? You'd think I'd have read about 20 books right now, right?

Nope. Just the two I've read to my kids, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. What a complete fraud!

Except maybe that's okay.

It's okay if you're not reading great literature when it's supposed to be your job to promote such things.

It's okay if you're ignoring a couple commitments you had in your previous life to focus on your students and your family.

It's okay to take the whole weekend off from doing anything related to teaching.

It's okay that the garage hasn't been cleaned out yet.

It's okay that I missed a few days on this blog that I wanted to update daily.

It's okay that the bathrooms didn't get cleaned again today because one of the kids was having a day.

Breathe. Make sure that your wife and kids are breathing. Everyone's still alive? Then you've done well.

You can try again tomorrow. And that's okay. 

Shipshape

Busy-ness.

I have found that I need to be busy to keep mentally healthy. Not too busy, as that can put me over the edge, but fairly busy. The scary thing about shelter-in-place is that there really aren't too many painful consequences when I fail to meet goals. I've been working hard on school, and I skipped blogging for several days, which was a disappointment.

It's better for me to set achievable goals for the day and make absolutely sure I get to them. Today, it was the backyard. I swept the porch, mowed the lawn, weeded the garden, and the wife and kids apparently enjoyed the look of it so much that they spent all afternoon lounging out there. There is something very nice and satisfying about cleaning up space and enjoying it.

The rest is a battle. Bathrooms are an afterthought because I'm on the front lines. I'm staying up later than I should and setting a 7 AM alarm, an extraordinary luxury that I'd never have dreamed I'd be doing. I'm one load of dishes and laundry behind. The garage should be cleaned out by now, but it's not. Weeds are always looking for a way into the garden, and the stones in the south garden are only halfway installed. There are battles everywhere.

I keep reading that it's okay to not be hyperproductive during shelter-in-place. I should forgive myself for not getting to all those projects or having my suddenly remote teaching on point or my house spotlessly clean and full of new projects. I'm not sure if that would be healthy for me, though. I need to hold myself accountable for maintaining my mental health, keeping my brain busy, and keeping our family's ship in shipshape.

I can do this.

Newsletter

An excerpt from a newsletter bulletin I wrote today:

As the week began and my students and I did not return to our school, I sent out a request to my
high school English students. I asked many questions: “How are you doing? Is there anything
you are particularly worried or upset about? How are you passing the time?” 

Some sixty replied. All of them were worried about their older family members and working
parents. All of them were restless. They missed school. They wanted school work to keep their
brains busy but not to stress them out any further. My most difficult, intractable student (of my
154) called us his second family. 

I continue to teach them, in a sort of heartbreaking way, trying to give them meaningful things
to think and write about, shooting videos of myself reading to them, trying to figure out an
online learning platform with frustrating limitations that I’m still learning on the fly. I comment
on every message they send me, projecting warmth and care (and an April Fool’s joke or two
this past week). I’ve not heard from over half of them, and I wonder how they are coping. It
feels like I am projecting out into a void.

Confinement is an insidious enemy for today’s young people: they already spend less face-to-face
time with friends than at any point in human history, and this will exacerbate their feelings of
loneliness. They need caring adults to connect to them in the best ways we can. Perhaps you
might consider writing a handwritten letter to a young person who might not know the delight
of receiving such a thing. We still have ways we can care for them.

Sloppy Saturday

I'm a scheduler.

I do spreadsheets – color-coded – for work and personal finances. I'm an ISTJ: I like to see my plans sitting in front of me, minutes blocked out, ready to execute.

We do a schedule for our kids every day. We did it even before this, and it wasn't actually my doing. Our kids like certainties, always have. They like the schedule, especially the young lady, who will tell us when we're not following it.

Today, the schedule cracked and fell apart in various places. We were all grumpy today, and since we sprang for Disney Plus yesterday, we just spent some time putting that on for the kids. We took an extra-long screen break in the afternoon. We vegged out. I didn't run around with the kids too much outside because it's getting old. They say we could be riding this out through May. I'm a patient person who likes routines, but I'm finding myself more restless, irritable, and dissatisfied. I have time, so I have time to do that later. It's tempting to slack off and do my school planning last minute.

It was a sloppy day, but at least the weeds on the south fence of the property are gone. At least my kids are still alive. At least the last load of dishes is in. At least I've got some snail bait out for whatever is eating the new pepper plants and marigolds I've put on the side of the house, and I sure hope it's snails that are eating them.

I have to tell myself that it's okay to relax the routine a little from time to time. We will be okay if we take a day to disappear into virtual entertainment for a little bit. We're in better shape than most, I think. I just wonder: how long can we maintain it?

Lots of people are reading quite a bit. I'm not there yet, other than reading The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe to the kids. I have a lot of other things on my mind. I am reading a lot of media coverage of the pandemic, which seems terribly important in order to make the best decisions but equally draining.

I have to figure out some different ways to take care of myself during our confinement without dropping the ball on my responsibilities. It will be tough. The walls are starting to close in. 

Liveblogging "Online Office Hours via Zoom" 3/26/20

2:30 Office hours were, sadly, exactly what I feared. Very few check-ins, not much content to discuss, no time to notify admin that students are jumping on. I’m going to develop serious neck problems from stooping over by the time this is done. Ugh. The days churn on.

2:29 My son is shrieking like a vampire bat. Or a howler monkey. Oh wait, he is being tickled. Such is life.

2:28 I’m serious. This is not going to work with this folding chair.

2:27 I will be going outside with my children in three minutes. I have to make them run the whole time, or they will sit in the grass and yell nonsensical phrases at each other, then act like feral cats when they go inside.

2:25 Five minutes left. Thank goodness my children have calmed down in the next room.

2:23 Seven minutes left. This chair is becoming horribly uncomfortable.

2:21 I politely end the chat with the sisters, who report that they have been staying busy on their large tract of land. They try to sell me Girl Scout Cookies for the fourteenth time. I admire their spunk and perseverance and tell them we have 8 boxes in the freezer, which is probably true. I don’t eat those things anymore. Pretty much all my students reported feeling restless in so many words, and these two look like they’re about to explode with pent-up energy. They need their friends.

2:15 Two sisters check in. They don’t really have any questions; just scrolling through teachers and saying hello. They show me their giant puppy. I wonder if I should call admin while one of them leaves the room to get it. I don’t bother. Too much of a nuisance.

2:13 My Zoom session ends, and I panic. Just kidding. I start a new one. It should still work, right?

2:05 They want me to write paragraphs about my classes for the yearbook. I go for the zany and surreal and hope they don’t make me rewrite it. This is how I behave when I am bored. Case in point: liveblogging office hours today.

1:57 I send the work to a student with special needs. I decide to do an email “reply to all” thread for some discussion pieces since she can’t access Google Classroom.

1:50 I respond to some student comments on the enneagram. A couple of them get the same results as me, which is fun. The clock ticks on. I’m already thinking that this might be a good time to get a lot of work done. Teachers keep emailing me.

1:45 I finish the enneagram. I expect to be “dogfooding” a lot with this online learning stuff. (Dogfooding is doing the work that you expect students to do).

1:31 My daughter needs me to help her log in to Google Classroom on the other computer. I have my wife hold up a “BRB” sign until I return. As I leave, Casey checks in. My family appears to be uninterested in “don’t bother dad, he is working” time.

1:24 I decide to take the enneagram test that I gave my students. I’ve taken it before, but I’ve forgotten whether I was a 1 wing 2 or a 2 wing 1.

1:22 I read some of the things the kids are posting on the discussion board feature. Simple sentences and no discussion. Shoot. I should have given them more specific directions. But whatever, we’re just figuring this stuff out, right?

1:20 7th period student has not reappeared. I feel sad. I decide not to text admin to join my video feed.

1:16 A student from 7th period appears to attempt to connect! All I see is a pink square, and she disappears.

1:15 The rice and beans are gone. I down a large pink cup of water, which I’ve been doing every meal. I can see my reflection in the iPad next to me. I need to trim my beard.

1:13 I answer an email about my students’ letters, which have been amazing and heart wrenching. I hope that admin will drop into my class and read some of them. Wow.

1:07 Eating beans and rice. My kids are getting in trouble in the other room already.

1:04 Shockingly, a student checks in to ask a quick question about Reading Plus. I am unable to text admin in time for her to ask her question, me to answer it, and her to leave.

1:00 I set up Zoom on my iPad so I can work on my Macbook for the duration when students are not popping in. I post the link to Google Classroom, just in time. Phew! My lunch was a little late. My wife nailed the pozole last night, though. Man, that hit the spot.

Introduction to Distanced Learning

We the teachers of Burton School District have been asked to post videos for our students during school closures. Here is a script I wrote and delivered to my students and their families. The video is loading right now and probably looks weird as I look just below the camera at this script on the screen. I'm sure I'll get better at making them and that all will be forgiven.

"Hey students, I’d like to welcome you to what everyone is calling 'distanced learning!'"

"I was so grateful for your letters this week. So many of you have written from your hearts
and written beautifully. What I’ve gained from the 45 or so you have sent is that you
want meaningful work, but not too much so that you’re overwhelmed."

"As I’ve written back to some of you, the work that we do for distanced learning is no
pressure work. It does not and should not count for a course grade. The reason for this
is that some of you are caring for younger siblings as your parents work. Practically every
one of you wrote that you are gravely concerned for your loved ones, and that’s what your
primary concern needs to be."

"So what will we be doing for school? We’re working on some things, and again, your
letters have been tremendously helpful for my thinking. I’m considering providing several
options: some will be serious, likely tracking the course of this thing that’s disrupted our
lives and making some sense of it. We’re a part of history, so it’s important that we
document it."

"Practically every one of you reported feeling restless, and I think we need to take care
of our mental health during this time, so I will post articles about ways we can take care
of ourselves and do things that are meaningful. I’m hoping to offer some fun things
as well. Some of you want to write poetry or do some creative writing. We’ll offer a space
for that. We’ll do some things that are maybe unrelated to an English class to mix it up
and keep our brains busy."

"Expect to see something posted on your Google Classroom site every day you would
normally have my class at 9:00 AM. I’m not expecting you to do everything I post;
you will tell me what you find worth doing by what you choose to do. You have my
promise that I will be here for you as your teacher and advocate. If you’d like to drop
in for office hours via Zoom, I’ll post a link and be available to chat with you or your
family members from 1:00 to 2:30, and we do ask that you present yourself and your
background appropriately. If that’s an issue or you’d rather not, then you can turn off
the video on Zoom and just do audio. My email is _________ and I will get back to
you very soon if you use it."

"I’m going to miss working directly with all of you, but I’m confident that we will
make it through this and become stronger for it. Here’s to your health, and I’ll see you
next week."