I’m guessing the question every school administrator forgot to ask schoology reps when considering whether or not to adopt the platform was: Suppose schools need to shut down nationwide, and we have to use this product to educate the children, who I believe are our future; will your product have sufficient bandwidth?
I have been anxious about my kids beginning this new, largely unknown method of education. I’ve wondered how I could be assured my kids were doing what was expected of them. I didn’t worry about bandwidth (for what it’s worth, I have no idea if I’m using the term correctly), because I figured if the past two weeks of incessant Netflix streaming and online gaming hadn’t broken the internet; then anything would be possible.
I think we were about 15 minutes in this morning before my son announced schoology was down. Always the doubter, I took to the interwebs to ask other moms if their kids were having issues. They were. It wasn’t down for long, my kids were able to do what they were supposed to (though Elise still has homework and is managing to procrastinate), and I enjoyed partaking in one assignment alongside my kid: watching a cooking show for her world foods class. I personally wouldn’t have chosen Master Chef, but it was pretty nice to veg on the couch in the name of homework.
I didn’t work today because I wanted to help online learning go as smoothly as possible. Turns out I was utterly unnecessary, which I took as a sign I was supposed to watch a couple more episodes of The West Wing and keep churning out laundry. I dried some of said laundry outside because the sun was out. I also had the back door open for a bit so the dogs could come and go as they pleased. As a result, I just saw a mosquito in the house. I think having to deal with mosquitoes before the pandemic is over is bullshit. You won’t convince me otherwise.
More than 159,000 cases in the US, including John Prine (who I have most shamefully stolen the title of this post from). 2900 plus have died. Put one foot in front of the other and lead with love. Be well, friends. You don’t know me, John, but I love ya and I’m praying.
Cue the Ice Cube. Or maybe don’t. His language is worse than mine, believe it or not.
My Corona discipline is to write every day. Which is thoroughly unnecessary, and content is reaching a new low. But I’m digging my heels in, y’all, in it to win it.
I participated in worship today, and am right proud of myself for actually showering before logging on. It had been, um, a day or two since I’d cleansed. I feel unbelievably fortunate to attend church with so many folks I adore. I miss being in their physical presence something fierce. But it may be a bit jarring when I can’t wear sweatpants or pajamas on Sunday morning.
Other activities included a long overdue cleaning of the kitchen, a nap, two episodes of The West Wing, and some houseparty time (it’s just a fancy facetime app, do not be alarmed) with my friends Jeanie and Larissa. They indulged me with information about what it’s like to practice obstetrics and gynecology during a pandemic AND assured me they’ll help me get my hands on some cipro if my Chipotle dinner (delivered sans contact while we were chatting) should lead to an e. coli infection. I also wrote a couple of notes. To mail tomorrow. Anybody remember handwritten notes??
All in all, I have not a single thing to complain about. Be well my friends.
This is apparently where we are as a society. Get two sheets, throw ’em together, call it a t-shirt dress and you can wear it anywhere! I’m down with this plan, but only during quarantine, OK?? ‘Cause that dress is silly, y’all.
We’re on edge around here. The unknowns are overwhelming. Or maybe it’s the knowns that are overwhelming. I suppose it’s both. The kids likely won’t go back to school. No one has any idea if there will be any spring or summer soccer. My job, which once upon a time had an end date of 4/15, could go on into the summer. Not that it would be a bad thing, but not knowing is just weird. While we will undoubtedly virtually gather with our church people on Easter, we will not be in the building together. Donald might be, but we will not.My son will most likely celebrate his 18th birthday in isolation. My dogs are both due for trips to the vet, but I can’t even think about that right now. My kid has cavities that need to be filled. I need a haircut.
It is good, I guess, to be reminded of things I used to take for granted. Impromptu chats with the neighbors at the end of the driveway, spring break trips, happy hour with friends, my formerly flippant attitude about germs. For what it’s worth, when we all get through this, I WILL revive my disdain of hand sanitizer (in normal times, some exposure to germs is your friend– ya gotta have exposure to build immunity– of course, these are NOT NORMAL TIMES).
We have had a very chill Saturday, the kind I used to relish, but now complain about. Life is funny. I made chicken vindaloo, which I’ve had the ingredients for for months, but could never find time to actually put together. And, I even chopped up some cilantro garnish. Typically, I would buy the cilantro, but then I’d forget about it or be too damn tired to garnish anything and then it would sit in the fridge and decompose into a soupy pile of green stuff in brown juice. So there’s that.
I have a lot of thoughts on today and the week we’re wrapping up, but I’m too tired to put them into cohesive sentences. So, I’m just going to tell you the houseparty app is pretty awesome. Even if Jolean and Buffi kept ditching us. Yes, we talked about the weirdness of living through a pandemic, but we also talked about dog poop, a grandbaby, college searches, e-learning, why it took our garbage company three and a half months to pick up our Christmas tree (because they are a-holes), and a bunch of other *really important* stuff. It was good medicine. Take care and be well my friends.
Today I learned those working in the tax industry are considered essential.
Should I be flattered? I don’t think I am. It seems lots of workers are considered essential. I heard someone throw out the number 80% today. Not terribly exclusive. I am fortunate in that my boss is giving me freedom to decide how I want to move forward after Friday. Problem is, I don’t much care for decision making. I did tell him today that I’d likely stay home on Monday for the implementation of e-learning, whatever the hell that’s going to mean.
Today was the day the wheels completely came off at the house while Chris and I were working. I’m not sure what happened. I know my phone rang, and one kid sent me a video, and both kids sent me a slew of text messages. Haven’t watched the video, didn’t read all the messages. I figured if they were both texting, they were both alive. No problemo.
We decided to again support the pizzeria owned by folks in our neighborhood for dinner tonight. But because of last week’s high demand, they opted to sell only pizza kits tonight. I have many skills. Forming a ball of dough into a pizza crust isn’t one of them. And it was the last thing I wanted to do after work today. I know very little about what the future holds, but I can tell you without a doubt we will not be ordering pizza kits next week. I could not possibly feel more pathetic and entitled right now, so don’t feel like you need to call me out on it.
I’m reaching a new level of exhaustion, cynicism, apathy, tension, worry. But I think maybe the greatest of these is apathy. Or maybe exhaustion. I dunno. I suppose it’s good worry isn’t #1 on the list.
Two weeks ago I went to happy hour with friends. While COVID-19 was the main topic of conversation, I don’t think any of us predicted how weird life was fixing to become. We figured it out real quickly, though, when Lisa’s phone starting going nuts as we were leaving. Forty-five had just announced he was going to ban travelers from Europe. Which is problematic when you have a child studying abroad in Spain, as Lisa did at the time.
Shit got pretty real, really quickly. And it has proceeded to get stranger and stranger and stranger. The three of us texted yesterday, questioning how only two weeks could have passed, because it feels like years. Come Friday night, things will be going to the next level when shelter in place begins.
Friday will be my last day of work until who knows when. My position is seasonal, and was slated to end after tax day. Now, who knows? Working from home isn’t really an option.
Part of me is looking forward to the break. My house is in dire need of my attention and I’m very weary of putting on makeup and drying my hair every day.
But part of me is daunted. I have no idea what e-learning is going to look like for my kids. I have no idea how hands on should be during the process, which I realize sounds silly. My kids are 15 and 17. I’m guessing that means I shouldn’t be hands on at all, but it’s hard for me to imagine them having the self motivation necessary to make remote learning successful.
At church we sometimes sing, “You gotta put one foot in front of the other and lead with love.” I’m trying to make that my motto. What else can we do, really?
I’m reaching a new level of rage today. Forty-five has announced the revised date for when he’s going to have this wrapped up is Easter Sunday. If this were based on anything remotely scientific, I could get behind the idea. But it isn’t, and everybody knows it. Dan Patrick is volunteering grandparents to take one for the team and simply die. Rand Paul surrounded himself with people while he felt sick.
I live in a bubble. I rarely interact with folks who say this is a hoax, or overblown, or 45 is doing a stellar job. My friends and family are doing all they can to limit exposure to other humans. I have zero patience for those who aren’t. What I really wish is for this virus to target those who refuse to trust science, those who value the stock market over human life, those who have enabled a sack of horse shit to sit in the Oval Office. Not proud of that attitude, but I’m also not going to deny my feelings.
But that’s simply not how a virus works. It has no preconceived notions about who to infect. Any host is a good host, whether they followed the rules or not. Those of us doing all we can to halt the spread are untimely at the mercy of those who don’t. It is so unbelievably frustrating.