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.