Undefined

Heidi was nervous about her first video conference with her social skills students, so I postponed my morning walk with the dog to offer technical support should she need it. My plan was to head out as soon as she was successfully online, but it didn't turn out that way. I was riveted by the joy and excitement in the kids' voices as they connected on the call, and I stood in the kitchen with tears in my eyes listening as they went through their daily routine of highs and lows, sharing their personal trials and triumphs of these last two weeks.

As happy as I was to hear their voices, for the first time since this crisis began I felt a little unmoored.

What is a teacher without a class? 

And They Knew that It Was Much More than a Hunch

I had a virtual meeting with my sixth grade interdisciplinary team today. Nobody told us we should; it just seemed like a good idea. So at 11 AM, I used a free online conferencing service and invited the rest of the team to join my meeting. Once everyone was on, I set my screen to tile view, and nine smiling faces formed a little tic tac toe board. It was for all the world like our own little version of the Brady Bunch opening.

We shared tele-teaching successes and challenges, and started a spreadsheet to keep track of kids who were not doing everything as expected and documenting any outreach to students and families. The Slice of Life writing my students are doing has allowed us to stay connected and it has also given me a window into their daily lives, so I added my colleagues to my learning management course, in case they wanted to check in with the kids, too.

It felt really great to be collaborating again in real time to support our students, and we all agreed to meet again next Wednesday, if not before. We've always been a good, well-functioning team, but these times are bringing us even closer.

There's Good in Every Day

One of my co-teachers video-called me this afternoon with a question about the ukulele. "How do you pick the strum pattern?" he wanted to know.

We chatted a little bit about online resources and tutorials, but I had to confess that my strumming skills were a bit rusty.

"But you know what?" I said. "It's so funny you called. I was just thinking this weekend that I was going to dig out my daily ukulele book and practice for 10 minutes a day while we're out of school."

"You and your 10 minutes!" he laughed, for he was privy to my 100 day self-challenge to meditate for 10 minutes a day (after my 100 sit ups, selfie, and blog post, of course).

"That's right," I told him. "In fact? If I ever write a book? That will be it: How to Do Anything in 10 Minutes a Day!"

The Fuzzy Head Prevails

I must have heard the patter of rain in my sleep last night, because I woke up thinking about foul weather gear. My rain coat, some tights under a pair of old nylon track pants, and my Bean boots were part of the plan as I jumped out of bed determined to carry on my new routine of longer dog walks in the morning. A cup of coffee, and I was good to go.

As I pulled my hood up, I noticed that my dog, Lucy, had other ideas. Rather than meeting me at the door, she was back in bed. Nature and her curiosity won her over, though, and I leashed her up and stepped out into a cold and pelting rain, ready to show what hearty stock I am, seize the day, and walk several miles through the elements.

But once she had taken care of her business, my dog balked at going any farther, literally giving me the side eye to show what she thought of my plan. When I insisted, tugging the leash, she lowered her head, willing the collar to slip loose. And so we stood in a cold, wet stand off, until I gave in and we returned to the warmth of our house.

Animal instinct has to count for something.

Trail Report

Another day, another ramble in the park. This morning we headed out pretty early to a relatively remote regional park, and although we had the trail mostly to ourselves, there were still several occasions when we politely stepped six feet over and allowed other walkers to pass. 

It may have been the socially distant thing to do, but it sure gave us an earful as groups approached and passed. For example, there was the lady hiking with about 8 other seniors and wailing "America" at the top of her lungs. God shed his grace on theeeeeeeeee! she sang off key.

Next, a man, perhaps in his sixties, passed us walking alone, but having a rather heated conversation on his phone. "Nobody gives a damn about the retirement savings of an 84 year old man! They have other things on their minds!" he scoffed as he marched away.

And then there was the little boy and his mom who we passed. The kid was up in the woods getting ready to climb on a rock. 

"Come back here!" his mom demanded.

"I can't," he insisted. "Social distance," he explained over his shoulder and kept on climbing.

"He can't stay distant forever," we laughed as we passed his scowling mom.

What We Can Do

We were doing a deep scrub of the kitchen and dining room when I took a soapy cloth to a couple of candle sticks that had been sitting on our sideboard for literally years. The silver plate polished nicely, yielding to my elbow grease. We should use these more, I thought as I replaced them, thinking then of Eleanor Roosevelt's words, It's better to light a candle than curse the darkness.

And isn't that what many of us have been doing? Long walks, a sparkling clean house, and apple pie-- that's what the eighth day of this crisis brought us. And who knows what tomorrow will be like, but tonight? There will be candlelight.

Earning their Kibble

I was giggling at my cat Tibby swatting and chasing her catnip mouse this morning when I logged in to check on my students' writing. I had asked them to share something that made them laugh this week, and I was eager to see what they posting. The mouse skidded over my socks with the cat in pursuit, but the hardwood floor was too slippery and Tibby overshot her quarry. She recovered with a nimble somersault and slapped the mouse into the living room where the chase continued.

I was still chuckling as I began to scroll through the moments of joy the kids had found in a week of uncertainty.

What do you know? Most of them? Were laughing at their crazy pets, too.