The number of worldwide cases is now over three million. A full one third of those come from right here in the good old U.S. of A. The best part of the current data, though? The number of people who have recovered from the virus is also now over one million. I just saw on the news that the assisted living center where my younger sister once worked has now become the most affected facility in the state. The Basilica Block Party, a major music event in the Cities each summer, has been cancelled.
The recurring theme playing out these days over media posts, commercials, and the occasional “live from home” entertainment bonanza full of alleged celebrities that don’t have anything more to do than the rest of us is, “We’re all in this together.” Um, no. We aren’t. The Commander-in-Clown-Shoes is speculating in his self-serving/self-demolishing press briefings that injecting disinfectant might be a successful treatment for Covid-19, after some of his other snake-oil brainstorms have gone up in flames. There are groups ignoring social distancing guidelines in several states to protest how their elected leaders are making difficult decisions to try and keep them, and their family members, and their communities, alive. They’re showing up to these things with leftover bits of propaganda memorabilia recycled from rallies of the past, and, of course, their automatic weapons. Because what more appropriate time to have them, and what better place to bring them. We SHOULD be all in this together, because every person out there is just as susceptible to the effects of the virus as every other person. I don’t know how issues as fundamental as life and death and self-preservation and survival become politicized.
Anyway. Today’s big moment here was when Gov. Walz both extended and modified his “shelter in place” order, continuing the strategy through May 18, but allowing some changes to how a number of businesses may open or operate. I wasn’t surprised, because our state has seen some of its highest fatality totals in the past week or so. This thing isn’t going away any time soon. I understand how desperate it is for people who have been economically ravaged by this, and I know it isn’t possible for everyone to keep pressing the “Are you still watching?” button on Netflix until a vaccine is developed. I think the tweaks the governor made to his original order were measured and justifiable, even though not everyone will be happy with them.
Personally, I’d love to be able to get out of the house and just aimlessly wander around the grocery store for an hour instead of chasing down the items on a list as quickly as I can while going during the off hours, or downloading seventeen different apps so I can arrange to pick up essentials during a curbside visit, or have things delivered to my house. I’d like to have back the layer of skin that’s disintegrated from my hands due to my aggressive washing habits of the past month.
Since the remainder of the school year has been shifted over to distance learning, we teachers are given the opportunity to return to our schools tomorrow (Friday) or the following Monday, to collect whatever materials we may need to finish the year. My two team members aren’t able to go, but I plan on making a quick stop, just to see if there’s anything there I didn't pack on my rush to retreat home a month ago, and might need or would like to have. As much as I think I will love to see actual people I know again, instead of a few neighbors and a bunch of randos I see walking by my house, I’ll probably get myself in and out of there as quickly as I can.
Even if things are slowly opening, I’m not convinced this has turned around. I don’t think this would even be close to 20th mile of the marathon, to paraphrase the governor today. I think the scientists comparing it more to the 2nd inning of a baseball game will likely be proven right. The worst part of this is that with something like a baseball game, you never really know for sure how long it’s going to drag out until it's finally over.
Thursday, April 30, 2020
Thursday, April 23, 2020
Pandemic Narrative, Part 8: Closed
It almost seems redundant to update the numbers at this point, since they’ve reached into totals so large as to seem intangible: Globally we’re a few hundred people shy of 2.7 million cases, with 737,735 recoveries and 188,437 deaths. In the United States we’re at 882,401 cases, with 81,792 recoveries and 49,885 deaths. Minnesota is thankfully at the lower end of the spread compared to other states; we’re at 2,567 cases, with 1,254 recoveries and 160 deaths. I haven’t included the number of recoveries before, but I’m going to now. I want to keep in mind how the majority of people recover from this, because this past week was when I saw the first people in my life become infected. The helplessness that has been so distant and almost hypothetical up until now became all too tangible in a hurry. It’s been an emotionally overwhelming week. Thankfully though, that has included good with the not as good. I guess even during times like these, life struggles to maintain its fragile balance.
Today was particularly newsworthy in my state. In a move that didn’t really surprise anyone, our governor made the announcement that the state was going to be closing schools to continue with distance learning for the remainder of the school year. Emotions are all over the place in the wake of this eventuality…I almost called it a decision right there, but there really wasn’t anything for him to decide. It was the only logical thing to do.
There are going to be a few kids out there who will be thrilled to be done with traveling back and forth to school for the rest of the academic year (I had one particularly point-missing student refer to distance learning as the “corona break”), but other than those exceptions, this news was met with considerable heartbreak. Students who want to see their friends and their teachers, teachers who want to see their students and their colleagues (friends), seniors who want their rightful turn at the conventions and pageantry that come with ending high school, eighth graders and fifth graders who are losing out on their chance for gaining any closure before they move up to their next school experience.
My gripe here is that I’m giving up not just an entire trimester, but a closure-achieving victory lap of a trimester with one of the best classes I’ve had. I’m not lying to anyone here — I’ve had a favorite class before, just as I’ve had favorite students. Any teacher who claims otherwise likely isn’t being honest with themselves. I loved my favorite class to the degree that there will never be another class that I like more; I’ve always told myself there might be classes that would equal them, but no one would surpass them. This year’s class was the first I’ve probably had since that class that would be their equal. I’m not saying they were perfect; more than a few of them had the capacity to be obnoxious little spitballs. The important thing was they were all good. I had strong relationships with each of them. They had an overall chemistry that worked.
I’m going to miss finding out if that kid who wore the same sweatshirt every day would leave it at home in warmer weather. I won’t see if my trio of artists would ever move on to add any new characters to their repertoire. I won’t get to see the girl who always wanted to argue with me catch herself and raise her hand to be called on before blurting out, because even if she was spoiling for a fight, she maintained respect. I’m not going to see the new glasses one kid was going to get this spring, after wearing glasses that were half-broken for five months. As much as I grew to detest TikTok dancing, I wouldn’t mind seeing a few minutes of it in the back of my classroom while we’re all waiting for the final dismissal bell again. I’d love to argue about whether or not Takis are disgusting (they are). I’ll miss the distinct laughs, the way they’d pair off to play math games and invite people to join them when they saw people looking for partners. I’ll miss the eighty-seven daily random moments that made being with them worth the many varieties of frustration that come with the job. Reading their work and knowing them well enough to tell who actually tries on their assignments and who barely takes the time to pretend they did it right is not the same thing by a mile.
On the bright side though, someone just pointed out to me that one of the enduring legacies of this group will be that I get to remember each of them as people, instead of scores from the MCA tests they never took and whether or not they reached proficiency or met their growth goals.
So there’s that. I can't remember the last time I've been able to make the claim, and that’s no small thing.
Today was particularly newsworthy in my state. In a move that didn’t really surprise anyone, our governor made the announcement that the state was going to be closing schools to continue with distance learning for the remainder of the school year. Emotions are all over the place in the wake of this eventuality…I almost called it a decision right there, but there really wasn’t anything for him to decide. It was the only logical thing to do.
There are going to be a few kids out there who will be thrilled to be done with traveling back and forth to school for the rest of the academic year (I had one particularly point-missing student refer to distance learning as the “corona break”), but other than those exceptions, this news was met with considerable heartbreak. Students who want to see their friends and their teachers, teachers who want to see their students and their colleagues (friends), seniors who want their rightful turn at the conventions and pageantry that come with ending high school, eighth graders and fifth graders who are losing out on their chance for gaining any closure before they move up to their next school experience.
My gripe here is that I’m giving up not just an entire trimester, but a closure-achieving victory lap of a trimester with one of the best classes I’ve had. I’m not lying to anyone here — I’ve had a favorite class before, just as I’ve had favorite students. Any teacher who claims otherwise likely isn’t being honest with themselves. I loved my favorite class to the degree that there will never be another class that I like more; I’ve always told myself there might be classes that would equal them, but no one would surpass them. This year’s class was the first I’ve probably had since that class that would be their equal. I’m not saying they were perfect; more than a few of them had the capacity to be obnoxious little spitballs. The important thing was they were all good. I had strong relationships with each of them. They had an overall chemistry that worked.
I’m going to miss finding out if that kid who wore the same sweatshirt every day would leave it at home in warmer weather. I won’t see if my trio of artists would ever move on to add any new characters to their repertoire. I won’t get to see the girl who always wanted to argue with me catch herself and raise her hand to be called on before blurting out, because even if she was spoiling for a fight, she maintained respect. I’m not going to see the new glasses one kid was going to get this spring, after wearing glasses that were half-broken for five months. As much as I grew to detest TikTok dancing, I wouldn’t mind seeing a few minutes of it in the back of my classroom while we’re all waiting for the final dismissal bell again. I’d love to argue about whether or not Takis are disgusting (they are). I’ll miss the distinct laughs, the way they’d pair off to play math games and invite people to join them when they saw people looking for partners. I’ll miss the eighty-seven daily random moments that made being with them worth the many varieties of frustration that come with the job. Reading their work and knowing them well enough to tell who actually tries on their assignments and who barely takes the time to pretend they did it right is not the same thing by a mile.
On the bright side though, someone just pointed out to me that one of the enduring legacies of this group will be that I get to remember each of them as people, instead of scores from the MCA tests they never took and whether or not they reached proficiency or met their growth goals.
So there’s that. I can't remember the last time I've been able to make the claim, and that’s no small thing.
Friday, April 17, 2020
Pandemic Narrative, Part 7: The New Normal
Since I’ve started each of these narrative posts the same way, let’s continue with that and get the stats down for the benchmarks: Over 2.2 million cases confirmed worldwide now, with 45’s America owning about one-third of those. Over 36,000 in the United States have died. There are people on the forefront of this nightmare, putting their lives in legitimate danger out of necessity or the deep responsibility that accompanies a calling. Any negative feelings I allow myself during this time seem petty and self-indulgent by comparison.
I understand that “a new normal” will become one of the pandemic-inspired catch phrases that we’ll all eventually tire of, if we haven’t already. However, I’ve seen evidence of this idea being truth reflected in how my dog’s behavior has changed during the quarantine. He has seen enough emerging and repeated habits from me that he’s assigned his own meanings to them. If I put shoes on, or pick up my keys, or a roll of poop bags, he’s always known we’re going for a walk. Now he’s added me walking out of my home office in the late morning (11:00) after I’ve finished my morning distance learning office hours, or putting on my mask as other walk triggers. I think he waits for me at the end of the hall in the morning, and on high alert, since he’s so sure we’re walking.
Between the time spent home and the days growing warmer, we’ve been walking a lot more, usually out at least two times each day, if not three. I’ve noticed my walking pace has quickened so I can keep up with Freddie and his speedy little legs, and my endurance has improved. Getting out for walks on the sidewalk and the pavement help keep Freddie’s little black nails trimmed, and gives him something to sleep about when I have to finish working in the afternoons. I’d lost two pounds during quarantine until I started using one of those food delivery services — it’s just too freakin’ easy to have the app right there on the phone, and a half hour later, there’s the food!
It seems like there are more squirrels and birds outside than usual springs, but maybe after all the reports of air pollution going down while the polluters are indoors and at home, that’s something I’m just looking for. Our neighborhood isn’t exactly party central, but it’s noticeably more quiet than usual. In the rare moments when a familiar car drives past while we’re out walking, I’ll still smile and wave, even if it feels kind of pointless to smile when they can’t see behind my mask.
I’ve been taking the shelter-in-place order a lot more seriously than a lot of people, judging by the number of cars that pass my backyard on the county road behind the house each day. If memory serves, I’ve only left the house twice in the past month, other than to go for walks or get the mail. I’ve heard of people comparing quarantine to being in prison, but I don’t see it that way. To me, it feels more like what I’d imagine living on a space station would be like. You have some room to move around, you’ve got things to keep your mind occupied, you have enough food and water, but you’re hyper-aware that leaving your confinement is a really, really bad idea.
I’m mostly okay with this, though. This kind of extended confinement would bother me during the summer; if I were on break and went through a couple of days not doing much or going anywhere I’d feel guilty about it, but during quarantine I don’t mind at all. I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say I have some fine-tuned introvert super powers. As my sister said at the beginning of this, “You’re good at staying away from people.” Which isn’t about being anti-social, but about being comfortable while alone when the alternative isn’t a choice. I’d explain it by paraphrasing Bruce Banner in the first Avengers movie, right before he turned into the Hulk to join the fight in New York: “That’s my secret, Cap. I’m always lonely.”
But in a forced isolation like this, there are ways to manage it. Last night some of the staff from my school had an online trivia night, figuring since we’re all doing distance learning now we might as well take advantage of the technology at our disposal for some virtual social time. And it was great. We played and talked and laughed for three hours. By the time it was finished I felt like I was returning home after being out all night.
An event like that is more of an occasional thing though (at least for most of us), and we still need ways to survive what can feel like an unending overlap of carbon-copied days. It turns out that distance learning has been a big help with that. Don’t get me wrong: I’m not saying the experience is all rainbows, Skittles, and Lisa Frank stickers. There are still a lot of the same frustrations I have to deal with as a teacher, and this only amplifies them since I’m removed from being able to directly address them by a few more degrees. I have noticed that maintaining a routine in the day helps make it more palatable. Instead of thinking of quarantine as a trial with no end date in sight (because I certainly don’t expect to be going back to my actual school this year), I take the day in chunks. These two hours? Office hours. These two? A movie. Or several episodes of Community on Netflix. One more hour until bed. Listening to one album or podcast and setting that as the length of doing a specific chore.
There isn’t much choice to it really, but for now, my solitary nature and circumstance are keeping me happily and blessedly uninfected. Knowing what the alternative to that could be like? I don’t really mind.
I understand that “a new normal” will become one of the pandemic-inspired catch phrases that we’ll all eventually tire of, if we haven’t already. However, I’ve seen evidence of this idea being truth reflected in how my dog’s behavior has changed during the quarantine. He has seen enough emerging and repeated habits from me that he’s assigned his own meanings to them. If I put shoes on, or pick up my keys, or a roll of poop bags, he’s always known we’re going for a walk. Now he’s added me walking out of my home office in the late morning (11:00) after I’ve finished my morning distance learning office hours, or putting on my mask as other walk triggers. I think he waits for me at the end of the hall in the morning, and on high alert, since he’s so sure we’re walking.
Between the time spent home and the days growing warmer, we’ve been walking a lot more, usually out at least two times each day, if not three. I’ve noticed my walking pace has quickened so I can keep up with Freddie and his speedy little legs, and my endurance has improved. Getting out for walks on the sidewalk and the pavement help keep Freddie’s little black nails trimmed, and gives him something to sleep about when I have to finish working in the afternoons. I’d lost two pounds during quarantine until I started using one of those food delivery services — it’s just too freakin’ easy to have the app right there on the phone, and a half hour later, there’s the food!
It seems like there are more squirrels and birds outside than usual springs, but maybe after all the reports of air pollution going down while the polluters are indoors and at home, that’s something I’m just looking for. Our neighborhood isn’t exactly party central, but it’s noticeably more quiet than usual. In the rare moments when a familiar car drives past while we’re out walking, I’ll still smile and wave, even if it feels kind of pointless to smile when they can’t see behind my mask.
I’ve been taking the shelter-in-place order a lot more seriously than a lot of people, judging by the number of cars that pass my backyard on the county road behind the house each day. If memory serves, I’ve only left the house twice in the past month, other than to go for walks or get the mail. I’ve heard of people comparing quarantine to being in prison, but I don’t see it that way. To me, it feels more like what I’d imagine living on a space station would be like. You have some room to move around, you’ve got things to keep your mind occupied, you have enough food and water, but you’re hyper-aware that leaving your confinement is a really, really bad idea.
I’m mostly okay with this, though. This kind of extended confinement would bother me during the summer; if I were on break and went through a couple of days not doing much or going anywhere I’d feel guilty about it, but during quarantine I don’t mind at all. I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say I have some fine-tuned introvert super powers. As my sister said at the beginning of this, “You’re good at staying away from people.” Which isn’t about being anti-social, but about being comfortable while alone when the alternative isn’t a choice. I’d explain it by paraphrasing Bruce Banner in the first Avengers movie, right before he turned into the Hulk to join the fight in New York: “That’s my secret, Cap. I’m always lonely.”
But in a forced isolation like this, there are ways to manage it. Last night some of the staff from my school had an online trivia night, figuring since we’re all doing distance learning now we might as well take advantage of the technology at our disposal for some virtual social time. And it was great. We played and talked and laughed for three hours. By the time it was finished I felt like I was returning home after being out all night.
An event like that is more of an occasional thing though (at least for most of us), and we still need ways to survive what can feel like an unending overlap of carbon-copied days. It turns out that distance learning has been a big help with that. Don’t get me wrong: I’m not saying the experience is all rainbows, Skittles, and Lisa Frank stickers. There are still a lot of the same frustrations I have to deal with as a teacher, and this only amplifies them since I’m removed from being able to directly address them by a few more degrees. I have noticed that maintaining a routine in the day helps make it more palatable. Instead of thinking of quarantine as a trial with no end date in sight (because I certainly don’t expect to be going back to my actual school this year), I take the day in chunks. These two hours? Office hours. These two? A movie. Or several episodes of Community on Netflix. One more hour until bed. Listening to one album or podcast and setting that as the length of doing a specific chore.
There isn’t much choice to it really, but for now, my solitary nature and circumstance are keeping me happily and blessedly uninfected. Knowing what the alternative to that could be like? I don’t really mind.
Tuesday, April 7, 2020
Pandemic Narrative, Part 6
Tuesday evening, April 7th. As I suspected, the number of COVID-19 cases in Minnesota surpassed one thousand as of today. Friday at midnight is supposed to be the end of our state’s “shelter in place” experience, although regardless of whatever individual governors are choosing to call it, we all recognize it for the quarantine that it is. I’m trying to remember to listen to his daily 2:00 P.M. briefings this week, even though they fall right in the middle of my afternoon distance learning office hours. I highly suspect that date is going to be extended for some time considerably beyond Friday at midnight.
I just got back from taking the dog for a walk. Today was the first undeniably warm day of the year, the first day when there isn’t even a hint of cool or chill in the air, when the temperature has crossed over from that neutral range of degrees between cool and warm and took its first tentative steps toward warm. It felt wonderful. It put me in mind of spring days from the past when that first warm day hits. The kids at school would be in shorts by now, complaining about the classroom being too warm instead of asking if they can go out to their lockers and get their jackets to wear. As we walked through the neighborhood, I half-expect to smell someone out grilling. In any normal year we might have crossed paths with neighbor Max taking little Molly for her walk, or stopped to talk with neighbor Dave for twenty minutes or so, because he’s the kind of guy you stop and talk with for twenty minutes when you see him out on your evening walk.
Tonight though, outside of a woman I didn’t know getting her mail, then waving and hurrying inside when she saw us approaching, we didn’t see anyone. I’m honestly beginning to wonder if things are ever going to go back to what we once thought of as normal life. I can see too easily how that might not happen. For all this talk about when businesses will open again, or when sports will start being played, or whether or not summer festivals will get manage to meet the dates to which they’ve been postponed instead of cancelled altogether, nobody knows a damn thing about what’s going to happen. Flatten the curve? We’re all in this together? America strong? No. NO. I contend this is nothing but happy-ass propaganda with no purpose other than anesthetizing people with blind hope. This pandemic is in it’s nascent stage, and there are too many people who have everything about it surrounding them who still aren’t taking it seriously. I’m not saying 99.4% of the population is going to be killed off by it, while the American survivors will either congregate in Boulder or Las Vegas and prepare for the ultimate battle between good and evil. However, I do think this experience is going to leave societal scars, and they’ll be the kind that will redefine what normal life could be for decades to come.
I hope I’m wrong. I hope I’m just feeling overly-dramatic about everything tonight. I just don’t think we’re going to walk this off so easily once the curve is flattened.
I just got back from taking the dog for a walk. Today was the first undeniably warm day of the year, the first day when there isn’t even a hint of cool or chill in the air, when the temperature has crossed over from that neutral range of degrees between cool and warm and took its first tentative steps toward warm. It felt wonderful. It put me in mind of spring days from the past when that first warm day hits. The kids at school would be in shorts by now, complaining about the classroom being too warm instead of asking if they can go out to their lockers and get their jackets to wear. As we walked through the neighborhood, I half-expect to smell someone out grilling. In any normal year we might have crossed paths with neighbor Max taking little Molly for her walk, or stopped to talk with neighbor Dave for twenty minutes or so, because he’s the kind of guy you stop and talk with for twenty minutes when you see him out on your evening walk.
Tonight though, outside of a woman I didn’t know getting her mail, then waving and hurrying inside when she saw us approaching, we didn’t see anyone. I’m honestly beginning to wonder if things are ever going to go back to what we once thought of as normal life. I can see too easily how that might not happen. For all this talk about when businesses will open again, or when sports will start being played, or whether or not summer festivals will get manage to meet the dates to which they’ve been postponed instead of cancelled altogether, nobody knows a damn thing about what’s going to happen. Flatten the curve? We’re all in this together? America strong? No. NO. I contend this is nothing but happy-ass propaganda with no purpose other than anesthetizing people with blind hope. This pandemic is in it’s nascent stage, and there are too many people who have everything about it surrounding them who still aren’t taking it seriously. I’m not saying 99.4% of the population is going to be killed off by it, while the American survivors will either congregate in Boulder or Las Vegas and prepare for the ultimate battle between good and evil. However, I do think this experience is going to leave societal scars, and they’ll be the kind that will redefine what normal life could be for decades to come.
I hope I’m wrong. I hope I’m just feeling overly-dramatic about everything tonight. I just don’t think we’re going to walk this off so easily once the curve is flattened.
Monday, April 6, 2020
Pandemic Narrative, Part 5
And the world continues to burn.
Minnesota, as of the last update I heard, has 986 cases of COVID-19 confirmed (sure to top 1,000 by tomorrow), with thirty deaths. Worldwide, the number of infected has surpassed one million. Nationwide unemployment is approaching numbers rarely seen in our country’s history. Minnesota is still on a shelter-in-place quarantine until the end of this week, though I’m pretty confident that date will be extended since we could be weeks away from our peak numbers. The governor’s reason for the quarantine was to slow the spread enough so the ICU beds wouldn’t all be used at once, and so far that seems to be working. As of today, schools are still scheduled to resume classes in early May, though the governor said during a recent press conference that there’s only a slim chance students and staff will be returning to their buildings to finish out the academic year. State governments are in competition to acquire necessary medical equipment while the federal government and the bumbling collection of arrogant morons that lead it seem to be actively searching for ways to make the situation worse than it already is. From a perspective, that should almost be a comfort, knowing that some things haven’t changed much — even if it was one of the worst problems we had to deal with during Before Pandemic (B.P.) life.
I haven’t started my car in a week. I feel like maybe I should, just to drive it around the neighborhood a few miles and make sure I remember how to do it. The few encounters I’ve had with people in recent weeks have all been either been through social media, video conferencing for school, texting, email, and occasionally moving to the other side of the road while out walking the dog if another person is coming from the opposite direction. Because of that, it makes it difficult to complain about boredom, even if there are moments when the boredom is almost a tangible presence. I’m good at this, though; I’ve mentioned several times how my personality is off-the-charts introverted, so being alone gives me lots of time to recharge. Most of the time I feel pretty good. There are moments though, when the isolation carves into me and the gravity of the situation comes at me from an unexpected angle that brings back how real everything is. I’m very aware of my privilege these days, having a secure job I’m able to still do, and a home where I can keep myself safe. I know there are all kinds of online memes of encouragement and self-protection out there now reminding people how their feelings are as valid and and legitimate as anyone else’s, but it’s hard for me to take any of those ideas seriously when I know there are so many people who are far, far worse off throughout this than I am. Again, to the best of my knowledge, I’m not sick nor is anyone I personally know infected yet. I pray that remains the case for as long as possible, and I offer my thanks for things to be going well for me, most of the time. Sometimes though, when everything becomes real and you feel like you’re the only person left on Earth, it’s just easier to allow yourself to lie back and bathe in the darkness for a while, especially if you know it’s probably going to go away.
This was the first week of distance learning. Now, the thing is, I used to be the technology lead in my school, back in the days when that meant going to meetings a few times a year and occasionally making updates to the school website when the principal wanted to post something. All of this remote teaching has put me on a very steep learning curve. The first day
The first week of distance learning went okay. It was a little rocky and busy at the start, but now after a week in recognizable and predictable patterns in the day are beginning to build. I have a pretty good idea when completed assignments will start showing up for my approval. I know which kids are going to post or email questions for me, and where I’m going to find them, and what types of questions they’ll ask. Distance learning, in general, has been an easy adjustment so far, but depending on the day the experience can be anything from exhausting do unspeakably dull.
The biggest news story of the day, which I suppose will make it a fairly solid milestone in whatever timeline will eventually define the pandemic for us, was that the British Prime Minister Boris Johnson is now in Intensive Care. I honestly don’t know what the percentages of survival are for any hospitalized patients who advance to that measure of illness, but it’s clearly serious. I don’t know if people get more anxious about seeing a well-known public figure like him getting sick, or any of the other differing degrees of fame that have been affected as well, because they’re worried about our celebrities. I think people like him getting sick stand to drive home the point of how all of us are vulnerable right now.
Times are not good, and they don’t look to be improving any time soon.
Minnesota, as of the last update I heard, has 986 cases of COVID-19 confirmed (sure to top 1,000 by tomorrow), with thirty deaths. Worldwide, the number of infected has surpassed one million. Nationwide unemployment is approaching numbers rarely seen in our country’s history. Minnesota is still on a shelter-in-place quarantine until the end of this week, though I’m pretty confident that date will be extended since we could be weeks away from our peak numbers. The governor’s reason for the quarantine was to slow the spread enough so the ICU beds wouldn’t all be used at once, and so far that seems to be working. As of today, schools are still scheduled to resume classes in early May, though the governor said during a recent press conference that there’s only a slim chance students and staff will be returning to their buildings to finish out the academic year. State governments are in competition to acquire necessary medical equipment while the federal government and the bumbling collection of arrogant morons that lead it seem to be actively searching for ways to make the situation worse than it already is. From a perspective, that should almost be a comfort, knowing that some things haven’t changed much — even if it was one of the worst problems we had to deal with during Before Pandemic (B.P.) life.
I haven’t started my car in a week. I feel like maybe I should, just to drive it around the neighborhood a few miles and make sure I remember how to do it. The few encounters I’ve had with people in recent weeks have all been either been through social media, video conferencing for school, texting, email, and occasionally moving to the other side of the road while out walking the dog if another person is coming from the opposite direction. Because of that, it makes it difficult to complain about boredom, even if there are moments when the boredom is almost a tangible presence. I’m good at this, though; I’ve mentioned several times how my personality is off-the-charts introverted, so being alone gives me lots of time to recharge. Most of the time I feel pretty good. There are moments though, when the isolation carves into me and the gravity of the situation comes at me from an unexpected angle that brings back how real everything is. I’m very aware of my privilege these days, having a secure job I’m able to still do, and a home where I can keep myself safe. I know there are all kinds of online memes of encouragement and self-protection out there now reminding people how their feelings are as valid and and legitimate as anyone else’s, but it’s hard for me to take any of those ideas seriously when I know there are so many people who are far, far worse off throughout this than I am. Again, to the best of my knowledge, I’m not sick nor is anyone I personally know infected yet. I pray that remains the case for as long as possible, and I offer my thanks for things to be going well for me, most of the time. Sometimes though, when everything becomes real and you feel like you’re the only person left on Earth, it’s just easier to allow yourself to lie back and bathe in the darkness for a while, especially if you know it’s probably going to go away.
This was the first week of distance learning. Now, the thing is, I used to be the technology lead in my school, back in the days when that meant going to meetings a few times a year and occasionally making updates to the school website when the principal wanted to post something. All of this remote teaching has put me on a very steep learning curve. The first day
The first week of distance learning went okay. It was a little rocky and busy at the start, but now after a week in recognizable and predictable patterns in the day are beginning to build. I have a pretty good idea when completed assignments will start showing up for my approval. I know which kids are going to post or email questions for me, and where I’m going to find them, and what types of questions they’ll ask. Distance learning, in general, has been an easy adjustment so far, but depending on the day the experience can be anything from exhausting do unspeakably dull.
The biggest news story of the day, which I suppose will make it a fairly solid milestone in whatever timeline will eventually define the pandemic for us, was that the British Prime Minister Boris Johnson is now in Intensive Care. I honestly don’t know what the percentages of survival are for any hospitalized patients who advance to that measure of illness, but it’s clearly serious. I don’t know if people get more anxious about seeing a well-known public figure like him getting sick, or any of the other differing degrees of fame that have been affected as well, because they’re worried about our celebrities. I think people like him getting sick stand to drive home the point of how all of us are vulnerable right now.
Times are not good, and they don’t look to be improving any time soon.
Thursday, April 2, 2020
10 Good Things, Quarantine Version
Things aren’t good in the world these days, and they aren’t looking to improve much anytime soon. Yesterday there was a trend on Facebook for people to post 10 things they don’t like that other people generally do. I attempted my own lists — a darkly humorous version, an opposite version, a blatantly obvious version, etc. Looking for a creative approach to the things other people are posting online is something I’ll occasionally do to amuse myself. In the end, I decided not to finish a list, though. I found all the negativity that kept coming up to be fairly off-putting.
In the past, when life has been pulling me down, I’ve found it helpful to remind myself that there is still good to be enjoyed. Sometimes shifting that mindset a little bit makes it easier to appreciate the things in my life that are going well. I have to believe that’s true even during a quarantine so widespread that stories commonly heard on the news now sound too much like the first eight minutes of a movie set in a post-apocalypse dystopia. In that spirit, here is my latest list of 10 Good things:
(1) It’s April 2nd and the snow is gone. It’s still very possible that huge snowstorms could come this month, but we all know that if they do, they don’t last long.
(2) Since the weather is relatively nice and I’m home all the time, Freddie and I are able to take more walks. In fact, we’ve been walking so frequently that I will often let him set the walking pace (which is a bit faster than mine) and I can keep up. Unless it’s the morning walk and we’re almost done, and he knows that his breakfast is back at the house waiting for him. Because, that pace? Not casual.
(3) While we were out walking this morning, we saw our friends Dave and Wags. Freddie and Wags wanted some sniffing time, but Dave and I kept them separated and moving. We didn’t get to exchange more than a few words, but it was good to see them.
(4) One of my all-time favorite television shows, “Community,” just started up on Netflix yesterday. I know it’s been on Hulu or whatever for a long time, but since I only have cable and Netflix I’ve been left out. I do have the series on DVD, but — and believe me, I know what a pathetic first-word problem this is to complain about — it’s just so much more inconvenient to get up and change discs every three or four episodes than just clicking a remote to start the next one. On a side note, if you are looking for new shows to binge during the quarantine, seriously — check out “Community.” It’s brilliant.
(5) My cousin Kelly is basically an expert on infectious diseases. She’s my go-to with COVID questions these days, which she’s able to answer on occasion — she’s fairly busy at work these days. She says that ordering take-out is probably safer than taking a trip to the grocery store. I have a good amount of food still left, but I think I’m going to start giving my new Door Dash app a try. I’m not exactly a foodie or anything, but it will be nice to get a little variety.
(6) As much as I would love to have a big greasy omelet and a stack of pancakes decorated with syrup and a butter scoop and whatever else could fit on the top, I’ve recently discovered that a banana and a scoop of peanut butter makes for a perfectly acceptable Distance Learning breakfast.
(7) Working from home means I can play music all day long. I’m getting in the habit of crafting playlists for each day before my office hours begin.
(8) Normally I’m a news junkie. During a presidential election year, that would be even more accentuated. Because the news right now is all about how bad things are with the virus or how 45 made up a new way to fail in handling it, I’ve cut way back on paying attention and have so much more time in my day to get other things done.
(9) Late night talk shows have reformatted themselves to a few comedy pieces followed by one-on-one remote interviews with the guests. This format reminds me a lot of different interview podcasts I’ve listened to, so I’m recording a lot of these shows to watch the following day. I’m enjoying this quite a bit.
(10) Today is Day 4 of the distance learning experiment, and I feel it’s going okay so far. My grade level team has worked hard to put together user-friendly (and parent-friendly self-guided assignments, so I think we’re on the right track. It’s great having team members who work so hard, because they push me to work hard as well, even if only to try and keep up with them. It’s also pretty nice to end a work day by just standing up from the desk in my home office and leaving the room.
There. Ten good things. That took about twenty minutes to write; that may have resulted in some typos, but it shows that it isn’t hard when you stop to think about it. Good things don’t have to be huge to still be good. If you followed the link to read this from Facebook, I would invite you to keep the positivity going. When you go back to Facebook, please leave a comment about one good thing you’re experiencing right now. After that, if you feel so inspired, go ahead and post your own list of 10 Good Things. Maybe it will catch on and bring us some happier days.
In the past, when life has been pulling me down, I’ve found it helpful to remind myself that there is still good to be enjoyed. Sometimes shifting that mindset a little bit makes it easier to appreciate the things in my life that are going well. I have to believe that’s true even during a quarantine so widespread that stories commonly heard on the news now sound too much like the first eight minutes of a movie set in a post-apocalypse dystopia. In that spirit, here is my latest list of 10 Good things:
(1) It’s April 2nd and the snow is gone. It’s still very possible that huge snowstorms could come this month, but we all know that if they do, they don’t last long.
(2) Since the weather is relatively nice and I’m home all the time, Freddie and I are able to take more walks. In fact, we’ve been walking so frequently that I will often let him set the walking pace (which is a bit faster than mine) and I can keep up. Unless it’s the morning walk and we’re almost done, and he knows that his breakfast is back at the house waiting for him. Because, that pace? Not casual.
(3) While we were out walking this morning, we saw our friends Dave and Wags. Freddie and Wags wanted some sniffing time, but Dave and I kept them separated and moving. We didn’t get to exchange more than a few words, but it was good to see them.
(4) One of my all-time favorite television shows, “Community,” just started up on Netflix yesterday. I know it’s been on Hulu or whatever for a long time, but since I only have cable and Netflix I’ve been left out. I do have the series on DVD, but — and believe me, I know what a pathetic first-word problem this is to complain about — it’s just so much more inconvenient to get up and change discs every three or four episodes than just clicking a remote to start the next one. On a side note, if you are looking for new shows to binge during the quarantine, seriously — check out “Community.” It’s brilliant.
(5) My cousin Kelly is basically an expert on infectious diseases. She’s my go-to with COVID questions these days, which she’s able to answer on occasion — she’s fairly busy at work these days. She says that ordering take-out is probably safer than taking a trip to the grocery store. I have a good amount of food still left, but I think I’m going to start giving my new Door Dash app a try. I’m not exactly a foodie or anything, but it will be nice to get a little variety.
(6) As much as I would love to have a big greasy omelet and a stack of pancakes decorated with syrup and a butter scoop and whatever else could fit on the top, I’ve recently discovered that a banana and a scoop of peanut butter makes for a perfectly acceptable Distance Learning breakfast.
(7) Working from home means I can play music all day long. I’m getting in the habit of crafting playlists for each day before my office hours begin.
(8) Normally I’m a news junkie. During a presidential election year, that would be even more accentuated. Because the news right now is all about how bad things are with the virus or how 45 made up a new way to fail in handling it, I’ve cut way back on paying attention and have so much more time in my day to get other things done.
(9) Late night talk shows have reformatted themselves to a few comedy pieces followed by one-on-one remote interviews with the guests. This format reminds me a lot of different interview podcasts I’ve listened to, so I’m recording a lot of these shows to watch the following day. I’m enjoying this quite a bit.
(10) Today is Day 4 of the distance learning experiment, and I feel it’s going okay so far. My grade level team has worked hard to put together user-friendly (and parent-friendly self-guided assignments, so I think we’re on the right track. It’s great having team members who work so hard, because they push me to work hard as well, even if only to try and keep up with them. It’s also pretty nice to end a work day by just standing up from the desk in my home office and leaving the room.
There. Ten good things. That took about twenty minutes to write; that may have resulted in some typos, but it shows that it isn’t hard when you stop to think about it. Good things don’t have to be huge to still be good. If you followed the link to read this from Facebook, I would invite you to keep the positivity going. When you go back to Facebook, please leave a comment about one good thing you’re experiencing right now. After that, if you feel so inspired, go ahead and post your own list of 10 Good Things. Maybe it will catch on and bring us some happier days.
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