Office Hour

I had ten students "stop by" for my first virtual office hours today. Some of them had a simple question or two, but most of them simply wanted to hang out on the video chat, see the other kids, type jokes in the comments, and show us their pets.

An assistant that I work with was there, too, and so we just kind of visited with the kids as they came in and out, asking for TV and movie recommendations, how they are staying in touch with their friends, what they do to keep from total boredom. It was nice to connect, and one of the toughest kids I have in class stayed on the whole time, which was gratifying.

And although I enjoyed the session, at the end of the hour, I was certain of one thing:

An hour?

Is too long!

Next week I'll do 2 thirty-minute sessions.

No Comment

I had a little bit of a shock today when I checked my personal e-mail only to find a comment had been left on yesterday's post on this blog by "Mom".

Regular readers know that my mother passed away last October, but until then? She was my most loyal reader. My mother never was much of a commenter, though. No, she preferred to talk about my writing in our regular phone conversations, where she knew she could get the unedited version of any story, full of juicy details.

And today, I knew, of course I knew, that it wasn't really a comment from my mom, but I lingered over the link for a little, imagining what such a comment might say.

Sharing the Road

I read a report today of a Florida man (yes, really) who threatened a mass shooting in a grocery store because many of the people in there were not wearing masks. I can believe it. Negotiating social distance in public spaces can be harrowing.

Last week, when Heidi made a wide arc around three young men walking toward her as she ran with Lucy, one of the guys yelled, "What would you do if I touched you?

To which my wife replied, "I'd let my dog bite you!"

Well, he did ask.

The next day, we were hiking in a regional park with my sister-in-law and nephews. A fellow hiker was very upset that the guys were standing too close to each other and their mom. He stood by the side of the trail and bellowed at us that we were peeing in the pool. "It's all ruined now," he moaned, as if in physical pain. When another family walked past us in the opposite direction, he shouted that the distance they chose was not six feet. Obviously disturbed, he huffed and groaned and sighed along behind us for some way, until at last he shouted, "Passing! Passing! Clear the trail!" Which we happily did.

And then just tonight our neighbor was out running when she stopped at a traffic light alongside a family of three on their bikes. "That is not 6 feet," the mom scolded her.

"That is not the bike lane," our friend snapped back. "You're on the sidewalk."

It's hard to cut each other slack when we are all wound so tightly. Normally one might recommend taking a deep breath in any of these situations, but these days?

Even that seems dangerous.

Mic Drop

A lot has been written lately about the etiquette of online meetings, but I don't think everybody has gotten the message. The basics are to mute your microphone unless you are speaking, especially in a large group. It is probably also wise to the same with the camera, or at least I intend to do so after sitting through an hour and a half meeting of 35 people watching folks scratch their heads, walk in and out of the frame, and drink coffee. Then the conversation came to an awkward halt when the unmistakable sound of farting blasted through the speakers. Props to the person facilitating, though, for her poised response. "We need to take a moment to remember our norms of muting the microphone unless we are speaking. I think we are getting some, uh, feedback, on the line."

I'll Try Not to Sing Out of Key

Just like after any break, I wasn't excited about getting back to work today. Perhaps there is some cold comfort in that, and to tell the truth? Yesterday, I couldn't have said if online teaching made it harder or not. But knowing today was a work day did cushion the landing a little.

And as it played out, having time to reestablish connections and collaborate with my colleagues before getting back to this tele-teaching thing we are inventing together day by day was immensely energizing and comforting, too. With texting, e-mail, GoogleDocs, MSTeams, and (shhhhhh) face to face communication, they pulled me out of the self-involved funk that has been so easy to fall into, isolated as we all are.

At the end of day, we have some fun and engaging activities all set for the kids tomorrow; in fact, I can't wait to see what they do!

Easter, Again

Usually Easter Sunday comes at the end of spring break, and sometimes knowing that we have to go back to work the next day drains more than a little of the joy from the holiday. In fact, over the years we've definitely minimized our celebrations, especially with no young kids nearby. And I thought that this year would be the same, except? Nothing is the same right now.

So, Heidi spent the week baking cookies to make little Easter bags for the local family and dog pack buddies, and at the grocery this morning I added white eggs and a dye kit to my cart. And then there were the plastic eggs we bought, long before the stay at home order, for Heidi to use with Lucy on nose work training.

And this morning? We rose in a golden dawn to deliver Easter treats, dye eggs, and have a couple of doggy egg hunts. This afternoon we visited with family, outside and ever mindful of distance, and tonight, there is lamb for dinner. 

A Different View

In an increasingly challenging attempt to kill two birds with one stone by getting in some steps while actually going somewhere, I walked the three miles up to my brother's house this afternoon. There, he and my sister-in-law and I spent a pleasant hour sitting six feet apart outside in the warm afternoon sun.

When it was time for me to come home, I ducked around the corner to a bike share station to take advantage of the downhill route. Perhaps it was the wind in my hair, but as I was pedaling, it seemed like a fine idea to pursue a more meandering path, and so I cut through the neighborhoods and past our school.

Once there, I could not simply ride by the deserted brown brick building that has been my work place for so many years. No, I steered the bike past the garden and around to the front and paused on the walkway in front of my classroom. The window faces west, and the golden April afternoon sun shone on it like a mirror. I squinted to see the bookshelves, the chalkboard, or something else inside, but all I saw was me on a borrowed bike remembering how the light used to fall across my desk at just this time of the day.