Steven Harper's Blog, page 48
March 22, 2020
The Plague Diaries: Escaping to the Kitchen
This weekend, I stayed away from school stuff except to remind my seniors that a bunch of them hadn't turned in their projects yet. I decided it would be good idea to stay away from the computer for a while, so I took refuge in the kitchen. It was time to make boeuf bourguignon!
I did have to pop out to the store for mushrooms and a couple other ingredients. It was only 8 AM on a Saturday, and I was rather hoping the store wouldn't be a madhouse.
Hopes dashed.
The parking lot was crowded, and a steady stream of people was entering and exiting the store. I accepted a spritzed towel from the employee station out front (apparently this was a Kroger-wide thing) and zipped through the store. As a bonus, I found seven jars of sunflower seeds in the nuts section. Sunflower seeds are a snack Darwin can reliably eat without spiking his blood sugar, and he can go through most of a jar in one sitting. Our household consumes enough sunflower seeds to keep an entire farm afloat for a year. They aren't all that popular as a snack, though, and often I have to hunt for them in the store--the store doesn't bother to shelve them prominently. I initially thought, "At least this thing will be easy to get, since few other people want it." Nope. Sunflower seeds have become as difficult to find as toilet paper. But today I found a seven of them lined up like chess pawns. I thought about grabbing all of them, then said, "You don't need to be selfish," and I took three instead.
I had only a few things in my cart when I was done, and I headed up to the front of the store. The despised self-checkout line was long, long, long. The cashier lines were a little shorter, but people had more stuff. I lined up for a cashier. Good choice. Like the cashier in Jackson, this woman whipped through the people ahead of me with the speed and efficiency of a drill instructor on cocaine. And the customers actually bagged their own stuff! You know it's bad when a bunch of wealthy entitleds bag their own groceries.
So I got out of there pretty quick. Yay!
Back home, I spent several hours in the kitchen, following Julia Child's recipe, but with modifications of my own. (The "flour crust" she insists on for the meat simply doesn't work, and I've abandoned it. And Darwin isn't a big onions fan, so I scale back on those.) It came out deliciously!
And I stayed away from the computer.
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I did have to pop out to the store for mushrooms and a couple other ingredients. It was only 8 AM on a Saturday, and I was rather hoping the store wouldn't be a madhouse.
Hopes dashed.
The parking lot was crowded, and a steady stream of people was entering and exiting the store. I accepted a spritzed towel from the employee station out front (apparently this was a Kroger-wide thing) and zipped through the store. As a bonus, I found seven jars of sunflower seeds in the nuts section. Sunflower seeds are a snack Darwin can reliably eat without spiking his blood sugar, and he can go through most of a jar in one sitting. Our household consumes enough sunflower seeds to keep an entire farm afloat for a year. They aren't all that popular as a snack, though, and often I have to hunt for them in the store--the store doesn't bother to shelve them prominently. I initially thought, "At least this thing will be easy to get, since few other people want it." Nope. Sunflower seeds have become as difficult to find as toilet paper. But today I found a seven of them lined up like chess pawns. I thought about grabbing all of them, then said, "You don't need to be selfish," and I took three instead.
I had only a few things in my cart when I was done, and I headed up to the front of the store. The despised self-checkout line was long, long, long. The cashier lines were a little shorter, but people had more stuff. I lined up for a cashier. Good choice. Like the cashier in Jackson, this woman whipped through the people ahead of me with the speed and efficiency of a drill instructor on cocaine. And the customers actually bagged their own stuff! You know it's bad when a bunch of wealthy entitleds bag their own groceries.
So I got out of there pretty quick. Yay!
Back home, I spent several hours in the kitchen, following Julia Child's recipe, but with modifications of my own. (The "flour crust" she insists on for the meat simply doesn't work, and I've abandoned it. And Darwin isn't a big onions fan, so I scale back on those.) It came out deliciously!
And I stayed away from the computer.
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The Plague Diaries: First Week in Semi-Captivity
You'd think that being told to work from home would free up a lot of time. You'd be wrong. (A lot of you are probably nodding in agreement.)
Since the schools are now on-line and I can work from literally anywhere, I decided on Wednesday to go to Albion for a couple days, and that was nice. But on Thursday, we got word that the governor was considering a stricter lockdown. (Spoiler: this turned out to be rumor only, and the next day, the governor gave a press conference refuting it.) I also realized that Darwin hadn't really done any grocery shopping, let alone plague shopping. So I ran over to Kroger in Jackson to stock the house.
Here I saw a major difference in stores. In Wherever, Oakland County, the Kroger is regularly stripped bare. Very little on the shelves. The hard-working employees restock overnight, and with an hour or two after opening in the morning, the shelves are bare again. Shoppers thunder down the aisles, their carts piled high. The checkout line stretches across the aisle and into the canned goods section.
In Jackson, it's a different story. The shelves have taken a hit, but there's still plenty of most stuff. (Though rice was gone.) They even had some toilet paper.
I couldn't figure out what the difference was for quite a while. Then it came to me. Oakland County is wealthy. A big chunk of the population has a job that lets you work at home, so they haven't been laid off. People have large houses with plenty of storage space. It all adds up to a burst of plague shopping.
Meanwhile, Jackson and Jackson County are blue-collar. Houses are much smaller. People are being laid off from jobs they can't do at home. They simply don't have the resources to buy an extra month's worth of groceries. It's another example of inequity in our society.
At any rate, I bought a pile of groceries while keeping my distance from the other shoppers. (The store had replaced the usual antiseptic wipe station with an employee at the front of the store who wielded a bottle of cleaner and handed out spritzed paper towels for customers to wipe their carts down. I suspect people were stealing the wipes and this was the alternative.) I piled my cart high, like a good Oakland County resident, and got up to the checkout.
I was expecting a long wait, but the clerk whipped people through right fast. There was no bagger, so I handled that chore. I noticed the same thing was going on in several other lanes. In Oakland County, many people are reluctant to bag their own groceries and will hold up the line until the cashier does it. (I just want to get out of there, so I always bag. Just like they do in Europe.) But in Jackson County, it was customer bagging.
I got the stuff back to Albion and decided, in light of the rumors, it would be better if I went back to Wherever. I didn't want to be trapped in Albion, separated from Max. Darwin agreed with this and off I went.
Meanwhile, my online classroom continues. It's a LOT of work, let me tell you. I can't simply tweak existing lesson plans. Existing material simply isn't suitable. I have to create new content, new activities that will work at home, new ways to assess student learning. It's hours and hours of work between answering student emails and messages. As an example, usually it takes me two or three hours per week to put together lesson plans for all my classes for the following week. I start planning on Wednesday, and I'm usually done by Friday, working on my hour-long prep period. This week, I was working four hours a day, EVERY DAY, just to get lesson plans created and activities posted. It's mentally taxing and it's often tedious--a lot of the work is doing the same thing over and over and over at a computer, and by the end of a school day, I have a neck- and headache.
Back home, the governor refuted the rumors, and I ground my teeth. I missed an evening with Darwin in Albion, and wasn't happy about it. He came up here on Friday, but didn't arrive until almost 9:00 because he'd had to work so late.
And now--the weekend! Just like the weekdays...
comments
Since the schools are now on-line and I can work from literally anywhere, I decided on Wednesday to go to Albion for a couple days, and that was nice. But on Thursday, we got word that the governor was considering a stricter lockdown. (Spoiler: this turned out to be rumor only, and the next day, the governor gave a press conference refuting it.) I also realized that Darwin hadn't really done any grocery shopping, let alone plague shopping. So I ran over to Kroger in Jackson to stock the house.
Here I saw a major difference in stores. In Wherever, Oakland County, the Kroger is regularly stripped bare. Very little on the shelves. The hard-working employees restock overnight, and with an hour or two after opening in the morning, the shelves are bare again. Shoppers thunder down the aisles, their carts piled high. The checkout line stretches across the aisle and into the canned goods section.
In Jackson, it's a different story. The shelves have taken a hit, but there's still plenty of most stuff. (Though rice was gone.) They even had some toilet paper.
I couldn't figure out what the difference was for quite a while. Then it came to me. Oakland County is wealthy. A big chunk of the population has a job that lets you work at home, so they haven't been laid off. People have large houses with plenty of storage space. It all adds up to a burst of plague shopping.
Meanwhile, Jackson and Jackson County are blue-collar. Houses are much smaller. People are being laid off from jobs they can't do at home. They simply don't have the resources to buy an extra month's worth of groceries. It's another example of inequity in our society.
At any rate, I bought a pile of groceries while keeping my distance from the other shoppers. (The store had replaced the usual antiseptic wipe station with an employee at the front of the store who wielded a bottle of cleaner and handed out spritzed paper towels for customers to wipe their carts down. I suspect people were stealing the wipes and this was the alternative.) I piled my cart high, like a good Oakland County resident, and got up to the checkout.
I was expecting a long wait, but the clerk whipped people through right fast. There was no bagger, so I handled that chore. I noticed the same thing was going on in several other lanes. In Oakland County, many people are reluctant to bag their own groceries and will hold up the line until the cashier does it. (I just want to get out of there, so I always bag. Just like they do in Europe.) But in Jackson County, it was customer bagging.
I got the stuff back to Albion and decided, in light of the rumors, it would be better if I went back to Wherever. I didn't want to be trapped in Albion, separated from Max. Darwin agreed with this and off I went.
Meanwhile, my online classroom continues. It's a LOT of work, let me tell you. I can't simply tweak existing lesson plans. Existing material simply isn't suitable. I have to create new content, new activities that will work at home, new ways to assess student learning. It's hours and hours of work between answering student emails and messages. As an example, usually it takes me two or three hours per week to put together lesson plans for all my classes for the following week. I start planning on Wednesday, and I'm usually done by Friday, working on my hour-long prep period. This week, I was working four hours a day, EVERY DAY, just to get lesson plans created and activities posted. It's mentally taxing and it's often tedious--a lot of the work is doing the same thing over and over and over at a computer, and by the end of a school day, I have a neck- and headache.
Back home, the governor refuted the rumors, and I ground my teeth. I missed an evening with Darwin in Albion, and wasn't happy about it. He came up here on Friday, but didn't arrive until almost 9:00 because he'd had to work so late.
And now--the weekend! Just like the weekdays...
comments
March 17, 2020
Plague School Teaching: Day One
I've noted elsewhere that during the Time of Isolation, I would run twice a day instead of just once. When I'm at work, you see, I'm usually on my feet, and I get my minimum number of steps each day at just my job. Now, though, my teaching day will be spent at a computer, so we have to change things up. I also decided I'll need a regular schedule. It'll keep me focused and stop me from being "on" for work all day and night.
My schedule runs like this:
7:00 AM - Get up. (I'm sleeping in! Usually I'm up before 6:00.)
7:10 - Run for half an hour.
7:45 - Shower and breakfast.
8:00 - At my computer.
12:00 - Lunch break
2:30 - End student interaction (no more answering emails or comments)
3:00 - Log out of GC
Today, I got up, ran, showered, breakfasted, and logged into GC. None of my students had responded to the lesson materials yet. (No surprise, really.) I checked my rosters to see who hadn't enrolled in GC yet and busied myself with other tasks.
Dinah has decided that, since I'm home, I should be her personal armchair.
comments
My schedule runs like this:
7:00 AM - Get up. (I'm sleeping in! Usually I'm up before 6:00.)
7:10 - Run for half an hour.
7:45 - Shower and breakfast.
8:00 - At my computer.
12:00 - Lunch break
2:30 - End student interaction (no more answering emails or comments)
3:00 - Log out of GC
Today, I got up, ran, showered, breakfasted, and logged into GC. None of my students had responded to the lesson materials yet. (No surprise, really.) I checked my rosters to see who hadn't enrolled in GC yet and busied myself with other tasks.
Dinah has decided that, since I'm home, I should be her personal armchair.
comments
Plague School Teaching: More Prep
When I got home, I switched on my own desktop, grabbed lunch while it was booting up, and hit Google Classroom. I've never used it before, even though it's been available to me. Now I dug in. It has a definite learning curve.
I spent all afternoon learning the ins and outs of GC and setting up a virtual classroom space for each of my classes. Then I planned out schedules. English 12 was midway through a project, so they could work on that. For my freshmen, Monday would be vocab day. Tuesday, an online reading assignment at Newsela.org . Wednesday, grammar. Thursday, a short story or other fiction reading. Friday, whatever I felt needed doing. Media literacy I set to looking up and analyzing various TV shows and movies. I decided to continue my normal practice of setting up lessons (lesson plans, materials, copies, etc.) for the entire week, but in this case, I would upload them all to GC under a time delay so each day's lesson would show up at 7:00 AM each morning (just in case any of my students are morning people).
It was at it all. Freakin'. Evening. Seriously. By 9:30, I was still setting things up. Part of this is GC's steep learning curve and the fact that you can't post the same lesson to more than one class--you have do it for each individual one. This is a serious flaw in GC, if you ask me. By 10:00 PM, I finished with the last assignment and had an hour to myself before going to bed.
Welcome to the new normal.
comments
I spent all afternoon learning the ins and outs of GC and setting up a virtual classroom space for each of my classes. Then I planned out schedules. English 12 was midway through a project, so they could work on that. For my freshmen, Monday would be vocab day. Tuesday, an online reading assignment at Newsela.org . Wednesday, grammar. Thursday, a short story or other fiction reading. Friday, whatever I felt needed doing. Media literacy I set to looking up and analyzing various TV shows and movies. I decided to continue my normal practice of setting up lessons (lesson plans, materials, copies, etc.) for the entire week, but in this case, I would upload them all to GC under a time delay so each day's lesson would show up at 7:00 AM each morning (just in case any of my students are morning people).
It was at it all. Freakin'. Evening. Seriously. By 9:30, I was still setting things up. Part of this is GC's steep learning curve and the fact that you can't post the same lesson to more than one class--you have do it for each individual one. This is a serious flaw in GC, if you ask me. By 10:00 PM, I finished with the last assignment and had an hour to myself before going to bed.
Welcome to the new normal.
comments
Plague School Teaching: Prepping
Since all the schools in Michigan are closed, we teachers have been told to set up online learning. And since all the teachers and students in the Wherever school district have a school Google account, Wherever decreed the online learning would be in Google Classroom.
Monday, just the teachers went in. Most kept their distance from everyone else. We had a little inservice session in the auditorium that gave an introduction to Google Classroom, followed by some new district policies. Because of various complications, including special education students whose IEPs are still in full force, we aren't able to introduce brand new material. For now, it's review and discussion and short writing assignments and such. Benchmark Assessments have been officially suspended. (!!)
It ended with a Q&A. There was a lot of Q.
Afterward, I went back to my classroom and gathered up a bunch of materials to take home (textbooks, mostly). I thought about bringing my school laptop home, but I realized all the programs I'll be using are web-based, so my laptop would probably go unused. I left it.
The halls were mostly deserted. Lots of teachers were there, but most were keeping their distance. I popped in to consult (from a distance) with a couple other English teachers (who kept their distance). English 12 could do this. English 9 could do that. From a distance. There was an eerie sense of tension. It was a little like the feeling in the air when a blizzard is bearing down on the town, and everything is closing early. People spoke quietly and worked quickly, ready to flee the moment they were able. But this feeling was heightened. We all know that in a building of 1600 students and over 100 staff members in the first county to confirm a case of corona, it's highly likely we've been exposed. But no one is quite willing to say it aloud.
I straightened up my room, cleaned a bunch of surfaces, and left.
We're supposed to be back on April 13, what would have been the Monday after spring break. Me? I have the feeling we won't be back at all. I hope we re-open in September.
comments
Monday, just the teachers went in. Most kept their distance from everyone else. We had a little inservice session in the auditorium that gave an introduction to Google Classroom, followed by some new district policies. Because of various complications, including special education students whose IEPs are still in full force, we aren't able to introduce brand new material. For now, it's review and discussion and short writing assignments and such. Benchmark Assessments have been officially suspended. (!!)
It ended with a Q&A. There was a lot of Q.
Afterward, I went back to my classroom and gathered up a bunch of materials to take home (textbooks, mostly). I thought about bringing my school laptop home, but I realized all the programs I'll be using are web-based, so my laptop would probably go unused. I left it.
The halls were mostly deserted. Lots of teachers were there, but most were keeping their distance. I popped in to consult (from a distance) with a couple other English teachers (who kept their distance). English 12 could do this. English 9 could do that. From a distance. There was an eerie sense of tension. It was a little like the feeling in the air when a blizzard is bearing down on the town, and everything is closing early. People spoke quietly and worked quickly, ready to flee the moment they were able. But this feeling was heightened. We all know that in a building of 1600 students and over 100 staff members in the first county to confirm a case of corona, it's highly likely we've been exposed. But no one is quite willing to say it aloud.
I straightened up my room, cleaned a bunch of surfaces, and left.
We're supposed to be back on April 13, what would have been the Monday after spring break. Me? I have the feeling we won't be back at all. I hope we re-open in September.
comments
March 14, 2020
Life Under the Plague
Darwin and I avoid leaving the house out of fear of the virus. We wash our hands a lot. I go through the house about once a day to disinfect doorknobs, light switches, keyboards, phones, pads, and other surfaces. It's turning into a lifestyle.
We've spent the days dealing with family issues surrounding his brother's passing and with readying the house for sale. (I'm wondering what impact corona will have on that.) We cleared out more of the basement and repaired some ceiling tiles and cleaned up. Tomorrow, we need to clear out more of the office.
I went plague shopping the day we learned corona had reached America, so we're well-stocked on non-perishables, frozen food, and toilet paper. I missed the stampede by less than twelve hours. The plague supply is labeled Do Not Touch--it's in case we get sick and can't get to the store. It's also in case the supply chain is interrupted, but we don't talk about that. It's in the back of my mind, though. I continue with regular grocery shopping, but it's harder to schedule a pick-up time--everyone wants to avoid going into the store, and they're using the store's pickup service.
I also decided that if I'm stuck at home and mostly sedentary, I'm going to run twice a day instead of just once. Today was Day One of twice-a-day. I'm also making a concerted effort to go outside for at least a few minutes every day.
There are movies I really want to see. But no. We were supposed to host a poker game this week. Canceled.
We've become short-term hermits. If Darwin weren't diabetic and in a higher risk group, I don't think we'd be so wary, but he is and we are. A part of me says, "Just let me catch it and get it over with," but I know that would be beyond foolish, so I keep up the plague mantra of washing, disinfecting, and avoiding.
The biggest problem came up with the passing of Darwin's brother. Shawn lived in Arizona. There'll be an autopsy (it's doubtful he had the virus, but they want to find out what happened), after which there'll be some kind of service. Darwin said he wanted to go--wanted both of us to go. This made me . . . unhappy. Air flight would put Darwin right in the middle of a big disease vector. What if he got sick while he was in Arizona and couldn't get home? What if =I= caught it and gave it to him and he didn't make it? What if we got to Arizona and then all travel was banned, so we couldn't get back? I was sick with worry over the whole idea. I finally told Darwin how I felt about this, and he at last agreed not to fly, though there's the possibility of driving there. (It would be about nineteen hours.) We'll see. Meanwhile, no air trips, and I'm relieved beyond belief.
Today, we braved the plague and went to a sit-down restaurant. We planned to bring some disinfectant wipes for the table and chairs and menus, but we forgot them. When we arrived, however, we found one of the servers hosing down the bar with a spray bottle, so some of our wariness faded. Still, after we ordered, both of us dashed into the restroom to wash our hands, and we avoided touching anything but our silverware during the meal. A waitress we know often stopped by our table to greet us, and when she touched my shoulder, I flinched.
How long will this be the norm for us?
comments
We've spent the days dealing with family issues surrounding his brother's passing and with readying the house for sale. (I'm wondering what impact corona will have on that.) We cleared out more of the basement and repaired some ceiling tiles and cleaned up. Tomorrow, we need to clear out more of the office.
I went plague shopping the day we learned corona had reached America, so we're well-stocked on non-perishables, frozen food, and toilet paper. I missed the stampede by less than twelve hours. The plague supply is labeled Do Not Touch--it's in case we get sick and can't get to the store. It's also in case the supply chain is interrupted, but we don't talk about that. It's in the back of my mind, though. I continue with regular grocery shopping, but it's harder to schedule a pick-up time--everyone wants to avoid going into the store, and they're using the store's pickup service.
I also decided that if I'm stuck at home and mostly sedentary, I'm going to run twice a day instead of just once. Today was Day One of twice-a-day. I'm also making a concerted effort to go outside for at least a few minutes every day.
There are movies I really want to see. But no. We were supposed to host a poker game this week. Canceled.
We've become short-term hermits. If Darwin weren't diabetic and in a higher risk group, I don't think we'd be so wary, but he is and we are. A part of me says, "Just let me catch it and get it over with," but I know that would be beyond foolish, so I keep up the plague mantra of washing, disinfecting, and avoiding.
The biggest problem came up with the passing of Darwin's brother. Shawn lived in Arizona. There'll be an autopsy (it's doubtful he had the virus, but they want to find out what happened), after which there'll be some kind of service. Darwin said he wanted to go--wanted both of us to go. This made me . . . unhappy. Air flight would put Darwin right in the middle of a big disease vector. What if he got sick while he was in Arizona and couldn't get home? What if =I= caught it and gave it to him and he didn't make it? What if we got to Arizona and then all travel was banned, so we couldn't get back? I was sick with worry over the whole idea. I finally told Darwin how I felt about this, and he at last agreed not to fly, though there's the possibility of driving there. (It would be about nineteen hours.) We'll see. Meanwhile, no air trips, and I'm relieved beyond belief.
Today, we braved the plague and went to a sit-down restaurant. We planned to bring some disinfectant wipes for the table and chairs and menus, but we forgot them. When we arrived, however, we found one of the servers hosing down the bar with a spray bottle, so some of our wariness faded. Still, after we ordered, both of us dashed into the restroom to wash our hands, and we avoided touching anything but our silverware during the meal. A waitress we know often stopped by our table to greet us, and when she touched my shoulder, I flinched.
How long will this be the norm for us?
comments
Closed Due to Plague
The governor has closed all the schools in Michigan due to COVID-19. I was figuring it would happen, though it happened much faster than I thought. Originally, I thought they'd close the schools a week before and a week after spring break. Then two cases were reported in Michigan, one in the county where I teach.
Word whipped around the school. Everyone was a little on edge.
Me, I'd already activated the Plague Alert System. At the beginning of every class, I went around with my big bottle of sanitizer and required everyone to use it while I watched. I told them that if they left class for any reason, they needed to use sanitizer when they came back, even if they swore they'd washed their hands while they were gone. Every day during first hour, I sprayed my classroom tables with bleach cleanser and had my students wipe them down. Multiple times per day, I sanitized the door handles, the light switch, my keyboard, and other surfaces.
One particular student scoffed loudly and pointedly. This was overkill. It's a media over-reaction. It's just the flu. I told him that his comments in no way reflected actual science. I also said that my husband is diabetic, which puts him in a high-risk group.
"I refuse to let you give the disease to me so I end up passing it on to him and risking his life," I said. "You're a low risk, and that's nice. But you aren't the only person in the world. So use the sanitizer."
This particular student left to use the restroom later that class. When he came back, I pointed him toward the sanitizer. He refused to use it. (By now, you could see that the rest of the class was ticked at him.) I reminded him firmly that he was required to do so in my classroom. So he pumped some into his hand, then flicked it back off. At that point, I ordered him to leave. He stormed out, vowing never to return. (I later learned he went down to see his counselor to demand a change in his schedule. She refused.) The rest of the class sighed in relief.
Meanwhile, the superintendent announced that school would be closed for Monday only. Teachers would come in to learn how to conduct online lessons in case we had to close school long-term. I thought this seemed a little . . . conservative. The virus was here, clearly had been here for quite a while. Why were we staying open?
That was Wednesday. On Thursday, Governor Whitmer convened a hasty press conference at which she caught everyone flat-footed by announcing all schools would close for three weeks, beginning Monday. I shouted in surprise. Michigan was, I believe, only the second state to close schools state-wide. As of this writing, eleven other states have followed Michigan's example.
Friday, schools were open for the final day, but our little family was dealing with some more bad news: Darwin's brother Shaun had died unexpectedly in his sleep. He was only 48. Darwin was shocked and broken-hearted. He was in Albion when he got the news. I asked him if he wanted me to come down there, but he said he was coming back to Wherever that evening. He insisted that I didn't need to call in for Friday, but when he arrived at our house that evening, he was in no state to be left alone, so I made arrangements for a sub.
For good measure, I kept Max home, too.
I kept an eye on what was happening at school through email and texting. The governor's announcement had caught everyone off-guard, and the schools were scrambling to figure out what to do. In the end, the superintendent announced that teachers would have a shortened version of the staff development workshop for online learning and then be released to conduct classes off-site.
I have the feeling we're going to closed for longer than three weeks.
I also wonder what anti-sanitizer guy is thinking.
I'm actually a little . . . lucky here, if that's the right word. For the next two weeks, my English 12 and Media Literacy students are working on their senior projects, and they were going to be in the computer lab all that time. So they'll basically be doing at home what they would have been doing in school. I only have to figure out how to introduce my freshmen to THE ODYSSEY online. Hmmm . . .
comments
Word whipped around the school. Everyone was a little on edge.
Me, I'd already activated the Plague Alert System. At the beginning of every class, I went around with my big bottle of sanitizer and required everyone to use it while I watched. I told them that if they left class for any reason, they needed to use sanitizer when they came back, even if they swore they'd washed their hands while they were gone. Every day during first hour, I sprayed my classroom tables with bleach cleanser and had my students wipe them down. Multiple times per day, I sanitized the door handles, the light switch, my keyboard, and other surfaces.
One particular student scoffed loudly and pointedly. This was overkill. It's a media over-reaction. It's just the flu. I told him that his comments in no way reflected actual science. I also said that my husband is diabetic, which puts him in a high-risk group.
"I refuse to let you give the disease to me so I end up passing it on to him and risking his life," I said. "You're a low risk, and that's nice. But you aren't the only person in the world. So use the sanitizer."
This particular student left to use the restroom later that class. When he came back, I pointed him toward the sanitizer. He refused to use it. (By now, you could see that the rest of the class was ticked at him.) I reminded him firmly that he was required to do so in my classroom. So he pumped some into his hand, then flicked it back off. At that point, I ordered him to leave. He stormed out, vowing never to return. (I later learned he went down to see his counselor to demand a change in his schedule. She refused.) The rest of the class sighed in relief.
Meanwhile, the superintendent announced that school would be closed for Monday only. Teachers would come in to learn how to conduct online lessons in case we had to close school long-term. I thought this seemed a little . . . conservative. The virus was here, clearly had been here for quite a while. Why were we staying open?
That was Wednesday. On Thursday, Governor Whitmer convened a hasty press conference at which she caught everyone flat-footed by announcing all schools would close for three weeks, beginning Monday. I shouted in surprise. Michigan was, I believe, only the second state to close schools state-wide. As of this writing, eleven other states have followed Michigan's example.
Friday, schools were open for the final day, but our little family was dealing with some more bad news: Darwin's brother Shaun had died unexpectedly in his sleep. He was only 48. Darwin was shocked and broken-hearted. He was in Albion when he got the news. I asked him if he wanted me to come down there, but he said he was coming back to Wherever that evening. He insisted that I didn't need to call in for Friday, but when he arrived at our house that evening, he was in no state to be left alone, so I made arrangements for a sub.
For good measure, I kept Max home, too.
I kept an eye on what was happening at school through email and texting. The governor's announcement had caught everyone off-guard, and the schools were scrambling to figure out what to do. In the end, the superintendent announced that teachers would have a shortened version of the staff development workshop for online learning and then be released to conduct classes off-site.
I have the feeling we're going to closed for longer than three weeks.
I also wonder what anti-sanitizer guy is thinking.
I'm actually a little . . . lucky here, if that's the right word. For the next two weeks, my English 12 and Media Literacy students are working on their senior projects, and they were going to be in the computer lab all that time. So they'll basically be doing at home what they would have been doing in school. I only have to figure out how to introduce my freshmen to THE ODYSSEY online. Hmmm . . .
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March 11, 2020
The Plague Arrives
Late last night, we got word that COVID-19 has officially arrived in Michigan. Two cases--one in Wayne County (Detroit) and one in Oakland County (where I live). I knew it was coming, but still, it was a "shit just got real" moment.
I'm also hearing that the Oakland County patient has children in my school district, though not at my school.
This morning, Michigan State University announced that ti's closing at noon for six weeks.
And the next step is . . . ?
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I'm also hearing that the Oakland County patient has children in my school district, though not at my school.
This morning, Michigan State University announced that ti's closing at noon for six weeks.
And the next step is . . . ?
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February 29, 2020
Plague Shopping
Darwin and I went plague shopping last night. We bought a couple-three weeks worth of non-perishable and frozen food, medication, and household supplies in case we get quarantined and can't leave the house.
Darwin was at first reluctant to go. It was late, we were both tired, we could go tomorrow morning, etc. But I insisted, and he gave in. I was glad we did it when we did.
We went last night (Friday) at 9:00 PM, and the store was nearly deserted. We filled one and a half carts. Certain areas of the store had already been hit:
--no hand sanitizer in the entire store
--all the disposable razors were gone (which struck me as weird)
--the medication shelves were half empty
--there was a special display of anti-flu medications
When we finished, we discovered that the only checkout option was the self checkout--not very feasible with the amount of groceries we had. So I tracked down a manager and asked for a regular checkout. After some dithering, they opened a lane. Right after we started in (with the cashier scanning and me bagging like a madman), two more people with full carts got in line behind us. Clearly the store needs to leave a checkout lane open later at night, yeah?
We hauled everything home and socked it away in the garage freezer and in the basement. If something does happen, we're good. And I'm extremely grateful that I have both the money to buy this stuff and the space to store it all. If nothing happens, we can live off it for weeks.
This morning, I woke up to learn that three cases of COVID-19 have shown up on the west coast, none of them related (as far anyone knows) to travelers from China. As a result, I'm predicting that this weekend, the stores will be mobbed.
[image error]
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Darwin was at first reluctant to go. It was late, we were both tired, we could go tomorrow morning, etc. But I insisted, and he gave in. I was glad we did it when we did.
We went last night (Friday) at 9:00 PM, and the store was nearly deserted. We filled one and a half carts. Certain areas of the store had already been hit:
--no hand sanitizer in the entire store
--all the disposable razors were gone (which struck me as weird)
--the medication shelves were half empty
--there was a special display of anti-flu medications
When we finished, we discovered that the only checkout option was the self checkout--not very feasible with the amount of groceries we had. So I tracked down a manager and asked for a regular checkout. After some dithering, they opened a lane. Right after we started in (with the cashier scanning and me bagging like a madman), two more people with full carts got in line behind us. Clearly the store needs to leave a checkout lane open later at night, yeah?
We hauled everything home and socked it away in the garage freezer and in the basement. If something does happen, we're good. And I'm extremely grateful that I have both the money to buy this stuff and the space to store it all. If nothing happens, we can live off it for weeks.
This morning, I woke up to learn that three cases of COVID-19 have shown up on the west coast, none of them related (as far anyone knows) to travelers from China. As a result, I'm predicting that this weekend, the stores will be mobbed.
[image error]
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February 27, 2020
Comics Pride
Now that I've denigrated comics, I have to tell you that this page makes me tear up. I can't tell you how much it would have meant to twelve-year-old me. It's why representation matters.
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