Nate Fleming's Blog, page 6

Today was my first day of school

Today was my first day of school.

It was a soft opening, to be sure, with five students attending who had fulfilled the obligations to attend the opening – filling out a health declaration form, taking a virus test to show that they were no carrying the virus.

But it was an opening.

It was an odd feeling, knowing that we were literally some of the only teachers in the world opening our school to students today. That our students were some of the only students in the world coming to school.

Odd isn’t the half of it.

This week we’re only having half days, so the students left at noon. Then, at 3:30, we had other students show up for a prearranged virus testing worked out with a local hospital. We had around twenty students turn out for the virus testing, including my daughter.

If all things go well, these students will come on Wednesday, after their tests have returned negative.

It is a slow, soft opening, but that’s the way it should be. We’ve all been self-isolating for four months, and there’s no need to rush this. And even though I had very little actual work to do today – show up, talk with the students a bit, do whatever needs to be done – I came home wiped out.

After close to four months of The Routine, breaking it has officially worn me out.

But it’s just a matter of training the muscles that had grown flabby to be strong again. For example, the muscle that helps me talk. I found myself stammering and stuttering a good bit today. I just wasn’t used to talking to anyone but my family. I also found that I wasn’t sure how to talk to students anymore.

But it will come back to me. It will all come back to me.

It actually felt really good to have things returning to something like it used to be. I won’t say normal, because it’s not normal, but it’s close.

It’s 2020 2.0.

And it was my first day at school.

2020 2.0

Tomorrow it starts.

School’s back in session! Bring on a handful of students! We’re ready for them!

This is the first Sunday in months that has been the day before a work day. Used to be that Sunday evenings felt like the day before a work day, but not for the past few months.

For the past few months Sunday evening has felt like everyday evening. Same same. Same same.

But I’m going to work tomorrow.

And I’m not sure what to do with that.

Today? What did I do today? Like every day… got up, had my coffee, took the dog for a walk, helped Noah with his schoolwork, made some lunch, tried to figure out lesson plans for this week, made some dinner, watched Battlestar Galactica, and I will soon go to bed.

Tomorrow I will wake up and make my coffee and then I will go to work.

Work.

I will get dressed and go to work.

I’m not sure what to do with that.

School’s back in session.

It doesn’t seem real.

But bring it on. Time to experience 2020 2.0.

2020 2.0. I’m ready for it.

2020 2.0.

T-minus 36 hours

We’re t-minus 36 hours from opening our school, and I’m mourning the loss of the last three months.

Isn’t that funny? Over the last three months I have been struggling with having every day be the same. And now, here we are, hours away from everything changing, and I’m already missing what we had.

I’m not sure what to do with that.

The last three months have been the most trying three months of my life, because of repetition and the fear of the unknown.

Every day has been like the one that came before. And especially in the early days, there was a real fear of what the virus could do to me and my family.

But mostly it has been the repetition.

But now, with the repetition being broken, I’m looking back over those days after days and…

Well, I’m sorry to see them go.

It seems like there was something in those days that was important. Something that I had been given. Something that I had taken for granted.

And I’m not sure it was. And that’s a bit maddening.

And I also don’t know what lies ahead. And that’s a bit distracting.

But what is certain is this… that no matter where we are in this thing, it will move on. Even if it feels like the repetitiveness is too much to bear, it will move on. We will get to the next stage of things.

And we will continue from there.

It’s coming.

But meanwhile, don’t lose what is happening now. Don’t lesson the now in your hope for the what’s next to come.

Something important is happening right now.

Right now.

Pay attention to the right now.

So that the what is to come will have even greater meaning.

This is what I’m thinking right now, t-minus 36 hours from opening our school.

How to open a school post COVID19, day three.

Today was the big dance. The biggest government officials paid us a visit and saw our plans to reopen the school.

[image error]The drills from the past couple of days paid off as staff was prepared and performed their jobs well.

And the result?

Not a yes, but not a no. The visiting officials found several things that we need to do differently, and now local staff are working hard to make the appropriate changes. Will we open on the 27th? Maybe. Hopefully.

But here’s the thing. These folks are taking this thing seriously. We will not reopen unless all contingencies have been considered and prepared for to the utmost extreme. We will not reopen until we are ready to reopen with the least amount of risk to the greater community.

This is how you handle a reopen.

Take note.

[image error]

How to open a school post COVID19, day two.

I’m amazed at our Chinese staff. While I’ve been sitting in my flat whining and complaining about reopening, they’ve been getting us ready to reopen.

Today we showed up at school to participate in drills simulating the day we open to our students. I was amazed at how well organized and planned everything was, with details from how the students would line up for temp checks to the classrooms that they would use to how we would deal with a student who became sick.

There are quarantine tents, hand sanitizing stations everywhere, and nurses in full hazmat suits.

People aren’t messing around with this reopen. Students will be working in extremely controlled situations, teachers will be supervising and will also have time to work individually in their classrooms.

By the time we reopen, we will have conducted drills for multiple levels of government, demonstrating our ability to reopen safely.

Do I wish I was staying at home and not having to deal with any of this? Yes.

But I am feeling much more reassured having seen the level of work that has gone into the reopen.

I’m just not looking forward to wearing a mask while I’m there. Any of my medical friends have any tips on how to wear a mask and not be so damned uncomfortable?

By the way, my COVID19 test came back negative. That’s a relief.

 

 

This is how a school starts to open post-Covid.

It begins.

Today we had our virus tests.

Overall, not a terrible experience. First, a swab of the cheek, then filling out a declaration form stating that we’ve been staying home, that we aren’t sick, and that we have not been in contact with people from Wuhan.

[image error]This is the first step. Tomorrow, we are taking part in drills that will be monitored by government officials, to demonstrate that we will be conducting the opening of school accordingly.

A meter distancing between students, everyone in homerooms over the course of the day while continuing distance learning, everyone wearing masks, limited interaction, the building disinfected multiple times.

I’m really not sure why students would want to come except that they are so completely socially starved that they’re willing to endure this.

[image error]And we – the teachers – the ones who stayed in Shenzhen – will be the ones making this happen. We don’t have a choice.

At first, it seemed like staying in China was a mistake. Then it seemed like complete brilliance. Now it’s seeming like maybe it’s a mistake again.

Suddenly, the monotonous days walking the dog seems really, really, good.

Moving forward

Yesterday I flipped out a bit. Sorry about that.

We’d been told that the school was aiming at reopening, and those of us who never left Shenzhen had not been consulted.

Today, we were consulted. And I can tell you that nothing helps calm an educator flip out more than being consulted.

The bottom line? We might be reopening in a week. Tomorrow all teachers who are on the ground will be tested to see if we’re carrying the virus. In the coming days the school will conduct drills for the local authorities, showing how we would handle a reopen.

They may approve it, or they may not. We still don’t know.

But meanwhile, we’ve been asked to give input into what a reopen would look like. What would the day-to-day look like? It’s good that we’ve been asked.

So, as one of the first schools in the world to reopen in the current pandemic, we’re trying to figure out what that would look like on a practical level.

Dictionary definition of uncharted waters.

But my colleagues in Shenzhen are professional educators, and we are going to work together to try and figure out how to make this work in a way that will safe and helpful for all.

In a way, it’s kind of exciting. In another way, it’s kind of terrifying.

But we’re pressing forward. We’ll see what happens.

And tomorrow I get a q-tip up my nose for kicks and giggles.

Here’s hoping for a negative result! I really don’t want a fourteen day quarantine.

Onward!

Too soon.

Our school has decided to open on April 27, which is the date that the Chinese government has given for secondary schools to re-open.

In just over a week, we’re supposed to pretend like this is a done deal. Except…

A handful of us stayed in China. That handful of us are apparently expected to participate in this reopen. The rest of our staff are scattered around the globe, but we are the skeleton crew that will get this thing up and running.

And here are a few of the things that re-opening schools are supposed to implement: everyone wearing masks. Everyone maintaining social distancing. No air conditioning. Social distancing in the hallways, in the lunchroom, in the classrooms. Testing to make sure teaching staff hasn’t been infected. Not the students, but the staff. No clear plan or process.

You can imagine my hesitation.

You might be asking why the school is attempting a re-open. This is what we’re asking. This is what we’re not hearing.

Hell hath no fury like a bunch of teachers scorned.

And we are feeling scorned.

And our school’s leadership is not talking.

And this really sucks.

I asked for a change in routine, but I hoped it would be a bit more orderly than this.

People are Terrible.

People are terrible.

Not you. You’re wonderful.

But people? They’re terrible.

People will take this situation, this pandemic, and use it their own gain.

People will take this situation, this pandemic, and use it to garner power.

People will take this situation, this pandemic, and use it to screw people out of their lifetime’s work.

People are terrible.

Not you. You’re wonderful.

But people? They’re terrible.

People will take this situation, this pandemic, to take advantage.

People will take this situation, this pandemic, to shift their investments around to profit off others tragedy.

People will take this situation, this pandemic, and hoard and grasp and try to get what they can.

But you? You’re wonderful.

You see this situation and ask – what can I do?

You see this situation and wonder – how can I help?

You see this situation and plan –

You plan.

You ask.

You wonder.

You want to make the world better.

Honestly. Sincerely.

And so, people might be terrible. They may be awful. They may just deserve the hottest ring of the hottest level of hell.

But people are also wonderful. People also sacrifice. People also consider others. People also give and give and help and help and care and care and love and love.

People are terrible.

And people are wonderful.

And there are more of us than there are of them.

There are more of us than there are of them.

God, these days.

God, these days.

These days after days after days.

We’re way past 80 days here in China, and it’s starting to show.

Even with things opening up, we’re still locked in these days.

It’s the same. I wake up around 6:45 and take a shower. Then drink my coffee while doing my morning internet surfing, and then getting things ready for my six year old’s school work. Then we get him going with his online class around 10:30 and I go take the neighbor’s dog for a walk. Then I have a bit of time in another empty neighbor’s apartment trying to meditate before coming home. Then lunch, then I do my own online classes while trying to help our six year old with his online classes. And then dinner, and then watching whatever series we’re on lately and then bedtime.

And then tomorrow? Repeat.

And repeat.

And repeat.

And we’re ahead of the curve here in China, or so they tell us. Things are returning to normal. Or so they say.

But still, we’re repeating the days here.

I really hope that we get to a new normal soon. While the normal we’re currently enduring is certainly not physically taxing, it does take a toll on one’s emotions.

There’s something about the typical that is just so challenging. You’d think it was comforting, and in some ways it is, but in other ways it just feels unnatural.

Life is about more than predictability.

Life is about seeking out the newness every day.

Looking for new challenges and new vistas and new connections.

But this virus has reduced us to monotony. And that may be the most challenging thing of all.

My kingdom for some unpredictability. My kingdom for something different. My kingdom for a new day.