Month: March 2020

I held video chats today with my students, and it made me so happy! The explicit purpose was to bring closure to the unit we had been working in when school closed, but the real purpose was to simply connect. Yes, we talked about theme and character, but we also talked about dogs, skateboarding, lunch, little sisters, and stuffed animals. It put a spring in my step and calmed my nerves. I’m going to do it again tomorrow – five more chats to go!

I went to my classroom today to pick up my iPad and whatever else seemed important enough to bring home. Arnold, our fearless facilities director- they don’t make them any better – let me in, wearing a mask and gloves. He was his usual polite, collected, warm self, and I didn’t expect anything less. The world could come crumbling down around him (and it sort of is), and he would still be the same. After he gave me a few instructions, he rushed off to attend to someone else’s needs. As I crossed the lobby and took a few turns, my classroom windows were straight ahead, and it looked like someone had left the light on. When I let myself in, I saw that it was just the sun coming through the skylight. I guess I do get a good bit of of natural light in there, after all.

I stood in silence for a few moments, turning slowly around as I took in the signs of a community abruptly paused. The colorful paper chains of book titles still hung from the walls, one link for each book finished, one chain for each class period. An anchor chart waited on deck with just the title, ready for students to add their ideas; their readers’ notebooks lay sleeping in their bins, waiting for playful hands to snatch them out and fling them to classmates. Books stood at attention in their baskets, expecting a sixth grader to pluck them out any moment and grant them another life.

Right. I’m on the clock here. Pull yourself together. I scanned my professional books and grabbed a few Teacher’s College units and a couple of SIOP books. I walked over to our classroom library and selected some books the kids have wanted me to read. I grabbed the candy and snacks out of my cupboard (sorry, four and six-legged friends), pulled my bags onto my shoulder, and closed the door behind me.

I haven’t really had to sacrifice much during this weird time. The hardest part so far has been being separated from people outside my immediate family. I haven’t been able to go to the gym on a few cold and rainy days when I typically would have opted out of the outdoor run, and I will be deprived of my beloved beach time in Florida next week. I still drink my favorite coffee and make smoothies in the morning, work from home, and have been able to get the groceries I need and want. What separates me from the many who are truly having to make sacrifices is that I am still getting paid and my loved ones are healthy. I pray things won’t get much worse, but I guess we’ll see. I wonder what stories I’ll be telling in the years to come. Will it be a little worse than it is right now, or will things get significantly weirder and darker as time goes on? Will I truly have to learn the meaning of sacrifice or will I be spared?

You know what we won’t have to sacrifice? Spring. It’s a little disorienting to be in the midst of droves of singing birds and trees frosted in cherry blossoms with a pandemic on your mind. I stopped in front of the cherry tree near the library, the tree I used to have to pluck my kids from on the way from from the playground, and stared at if for a minute. Whatever we may end up having to sacrifice by the time this thing is over, it won’t be spring.

Okay, so it does sort of feel like a Friday. Our team sent out our weekly newsletter, as we always do on Friday afternoons. Then I jumped on a Zoom happy hour with TJ staff. We played a round of Kahoot trivia (I did not win), and then we chatted about cancelled and heavily modified spring break plans, grocery shopping (who knew this would be such a hot topic a month ago), our online adventures with students, Netflix series, and our beverages of choice. I think we hit 17 people at our peak, and it was surprisingly smooth. We are certainly developing new skills during this “great pause,” aren’t we? (I borrowed that phrase from folk tale of sorts for what we are experiencing right now).

Chris is on a happy hour right now with his coworkers, and then we will place an order for take-out, a treat we have reserved for Fridays. Our family is currently text- fighting over Peter Chang’s and District Taco. Peter Chang’s was the clear winner (3-1) until Maxine pulled the “I want to keep my friend’s family in business” card. I guess she’s buds with the kid whose family owns DT.

After dinner, we’ll take a long family walk with the dog, and then play a round of Spades or Hearts. The text battle has just begun for Spades v. Hearts. Actually, the kids aren’t biting. They want to watch the (not-live) finale of “The Great British Baking Show.” How about a round of Spades and then TGBBS? It’s all about celebrating the little things and compromise these days.

I participated in my first virtual happy hour yesterday. There were nine of us lined up gallery style like the Brady Bunch: one in Spain, one in Texas, and the rest of us here in our neighborhood in Arlington. I was curious about how it would feel. Would it be awkward because people would try to talk all at once? Would some people not get a word in? When you get together with eight other people, you don’t just have one conversation the whole time. It actually went very smoothly and lifted us up. Our conversation rolled through peaks and valleys as we laughed at each other’s anecdotes and poked gentle fun at one another’s coping methods, shared tips about ordering groceries and keeping our families occupied, and empathized with each other’s darker worries about aging parents and friends with health issues.

As each day passes, I see more evidence that we need each other, and not just our families. Our lives don’t feel right when someone is missing. I need these women in my life, I need my friends and colleagues at work, and I need my students. Each time we reach out to one another and make a connection, the world seems more hopeful.

Watching my kids navigate each day through this confinement has been..heartwarming? They wrestle over the TV remote, they fight over who has to practice piano first, and they used a scale to measure the last piece of cake into equal parts down to the last gram. They are quick to throw each other under the bus when I ask who left the dirty dishes on the table. Yet…when I glanced over at them watching “The Great British Bake Off,” his head was in her lap. I knew not to call attention to it because the moment would’ve dissolved in an instant. Not 10 minutes later, they were on the floor fighting over the blanket.

They remind me of wolf pups, nipping at each other and putting their paws in each others faces, wearing themselves out before falling over in a heap. I am thankful they have each other, especially now that their worlds have gotten a lot smaller for the time being.

With extra time on my hands these days, I started a few projects. I have a sourdough starter going on the kitchen counter with a thermometer and a heating pad keeping it at an even 70 degrees. I think it’ll be time to bake my first loaf tomorrow. After that, I need to “feed” my starter. From what I’ve read, serious bakers keep the starter at room temperature and feed it every day, but I think I’ll opt for the once a week feed while it lives in the fridge (I hope I don’t kill it). If you have any pointers, please share.

I also have some kombucha started in the basement. For those in the know, I have a nice looking eighth-inch SCOBY growing at the top of the mason jars. Once it gets to a quarter-inch, it’ll be time for the first fermentation. Fortunately, I have a husband who brews beer, so he has all the equipment I’ll need to make kombucha like a pro. If I fail the first time, lord knows I have time to try again.

What’s next? I think I’ll dig out my knitting needles and basket of yarn, which I haven’t touched in years. It’s time to teach the kids to knit. No matter that they made their disinterest clear; they shall learn the difference between a knit and a purl. I am not, by any means, a skilled knitter. My specialty used to be simple hats, scarves, baby booties, and an occasional throw; I never had the guts to take on a sweater. Oh, and Edwin had a little blue pair of knitted pants he wore when he was a baby. All they had to do was fit over his cloth diaper (my hippy tendencies are really showing now) and pull to a close with a drawstring.

Certain words and phrases have become part of our everyday lexicon, like social distancing, community spread, and shelter in place. Who knew, just a few weeks ago, that in addition to these, I would have time to be uttering things like feed the starter, fermentation, and grab your knitting needles.

Virtual teaching

Virtual meetings

Virtual shopping

Virtual piano lessons

Virtual happy hour

Real gardening

Real running

Real crying

Real dog walks

Really hoping we can all hold it together.

So, it’s not the sunny white powder beach of Siesta Key in Sarasota, Florida, but we have water, sand and sun. Yes, I’m wearing a coat as I type this on my phone on the Potomac, about an hour south of the city on the Maryland side.

We’ve seen a few other other people on our hike through the woods, but we have this strip of beach to ourselves. A friendly bearded man came by about an hour ago and gave us tips on how to look for shark teeth fossils. We now have about 40. I’m sitting here listening to the small waves wash up on the beach while Sasha lies in the sun, her ears twitching like satellite dishes with every sound. Chris and the kids are just over the small cliff behind me setting up a hammock between two trees. One hammock + two kids = I think I’ll stay right here.

I usually have a pretty good sense of time, even on the weekends – I’m not usually more than a few minutes off when I guess. I felt a shift today, the first day of the weekend, which has a lot less significance that it did seven days ago. Today would have consisted of running the kids to crew practice, a regional science fair, and a piano festival. I probably would’ve also tried to squeeze in a run, some grocery shopping, and maybe an evening get-together with friends. I did manage the run after a leisurely morning with coffee and the newspaper, and I was honestly surprised when I ran by a closed nail salon and saw that the clock read 11:45. What? That can’t be right. On a normal Saturday, I’d be wrapping up my run around 9:30.

It happened again after working in the garden. I spent a while pulling up weeds in the strip between the street and the sidewalk and moved a few plants into the bare spots. I had nowhere to be, so I kept working until I finished the job. When I headed inside and checked the time, I was shocked to see that it was 5:30. I really expected it to be around 4:00. These are strange times, and I am definitely feeling off-kilter. The boundaries between weekday and weekend have bled into each other and has left me disoriented.