Mask-capades

Perhaps the hardest part for me so far of returning to the school building is wearing a mask all day. I have a wide assortment of face coverings, but I haven't found any that remain comfortable for much longer than 30 minutes. So, I always take advantage of the rule allowing us to remove our masks when we are alone in a classroom with the door closed.

But I was halfway down the hallway at school this afternoon when I realized I wasn't wearing a mask. Even though the building was almost deserted, and no one else was in sight, my eyes widened and I began to feel a little panicky. Just then, a colleague turned the corner. 

"I forgot my mask!"

"You're not wearing a mask!" we said in unison.

I spun on my heel, clapped one hand over my nose, and then pulled my turtleneck up and over my mouth, speed walking back toward my room. "Sorry," I added over my shoulder.

Back in my room, I grabbed one of the many masks on my desk and put it on. I sighed, plopped down in my chair, and put my hands in the pocket of my hoodie, where I found a mask that was in there all along. Shaking my head, I stretched my legs and stuffed my hands into my side pockets. There was another mask in the left side. 

Evidently? I know myself well enough to be prepared for those moments of forgetfulness, but not well enough to think that I actually am prepared for those moments of forgetfulness. 

Maybe I'll just keep my mask on at school.

Pragmatics

When I signed off for my last (scheduled) fully virtual classes of the year today, it was with an enthusiastic, "Have a great weekend and I'll see you on Tuesday!" I paused and added, "Some of you in person."

"Nooooo!" groaned one student.

"I wish I was coming back," sighed another.

I empathized with both of them. There is a fair amount of anxiety among all the stakeholders as we transition from distance learning to hybrid. No one knows what it will be like, and there is a bit of buyer's remorse on both sides of the choice to either send your students in person for 2 days a week or keep them home for the rest of the year.

"Listen," I told them. "Your families chose what they think is best for you. Our class is not going to change-- we will all be here together, some in person, most at home, but we will make it work for everybody, right?"

"Oh I'm not worried about that," responded the first student. "I just don't want to have to get up earlier."

Space and Grace

"I'm going to come home right after school!" I vowed when I returned to the building, but two days in I am already seduced by the sun shining in through that window, as it has so many afternoons in the last 27 years, warming me as my fingers fly over keyboard and mouse, crafting the lessons that will become skills and knowledge in the days to come. 

Even though my desk has been moved to allow for six feet between me and the tidy rows of desks a handful of students will occupy next week, those four walls have witnessed my entire career-- countless inhales and exhales and all the spaces in between. Being present in that place after a year of teaching remotely is a homecoming. The clock on the wall speeds ahead, and it's already later than I planned.

One day in the not too distant future, I will close the door on that room behind me for the last time. Another teacher will stand at the door to welcome the students, and maybe sigh with a little relief when they charge off to the rest of their day, leaving behind a quiet space to work and plan for the learning ahead.

Reality Check

We showed a series of safety videos today at school in order to prepare those students who are returning to the school building next week and the week after. Modeled on the TV series Stranger Things, the videos ran through the rules and safety requirements in a humorous and witty way. 

The mitigations are hardly surprising, especially for a community that the NY Times designates as "Very High Risk" for COVID-19: from arrival to dismissal, the middle school kids are expected to stay six feet apart and wear their masks in most situations-- the classroom, the hallways, and the restrooms. At lunch, masks can be removed while eating, but students will be seated at desks set at six foot intervals with plastic shields. There is also a daily sign-in procedure that includes health screening and temperature check, and students must sign out any time they leave their assigned room during class.

"What do you guys think?" I asked my homeroom afterward.

"The videos were good, but the rules are insane!" one student responded. "I predict kids will lose their minds if they have to follow all those! Something has to change!"

"Maybe," I agreed, "but it won't be the rules."

Free Your Mind

We had the full attention of our pets this afternoon as we did a crazy yoga kriya in the living room on our lunch break. As we stretched and twisted and breathed deeply, or with fire, the dog was downward and the cats were cows; their participation complicated the space, but definitely expanded the energy, too. 

The penultimate pose of the series had us placing our thumbs on our temples with fingers straight up and chanting. Full disclosure? It was awesome, but I also had to giggle a little.

"I hope the dog walker doesn't come right now," Heidi said.

"I hope she does!" I laughed.

As it Should Be

I had a moment this afternoon, while walking the dog through relentless rain and mourning the safety and flexibility of working from home that we will soon lose, when all I wanted was to throw everything aside, like the covers in the morning when I get up, and drive cross country in April with my nephew Treat and camp for 10 days in Death Valley. Upon my return, I would go down to the Outer Banks and stay with my other nephew, Victor, on the beach for a couple weeks, until it was time to head to Alaska, where our godson, Josh, will be working this summer. 

Why not? I thought. What's stopping me?

The answer is some variation of 30 years and all the stuff that binds a 58-year-old teacher to the (wonderful) life she has built. 

But these boys! These men-- it has been my joy to take them on some of their earliest adventures, and now it stings a little to be left behind as they go forth and do such awesome things on their own.

Limited Series

As I mentioned in an earlier post, our latest TV binge has been The Crown on Netflix. Four seasons late to the party, we have had the luxury of carrying right on through the show at our pleasure. For us, "binge" means one or, at the very most, two episodes an evening, and so we slowly make our way through this series or that. As we neared the end of the second season of The Crown, I was aware there would be a cast change, and I had grown so attached to Claire Foy as Queen Elizabeth that I was not ready to let her go. 

Pausing at the end of episode nine, we watched several documentaries about the real royal family. "Why don't they include this stuff in the show?" Heidi griped.

"Because it's a show," I said. "They have a dramatic arc and too much extraneous information would be confusing."

She shrugged unconvinced.

Eventually, we watched the end of season two and moved on to season three. As I predicted, I could not get behind Olivia Coleman as the queen. "Why did they have to drop a perfectly good Queen Elizabeth?" I griped.

"Because it's a show," Heidi answered. "They have to show time passing somehow."

I shrugged, unconvinced.