About a year ago, Chris and I took up running for exercise. We haven’t entered any races, and if you’re my friend on any social media platform, this is the first you’re hearing of our new hobby because I don’t post regular updates of my distances or times. Running, for us, became a way to burn a few calories while spending some much-needed time outside -- beneficial to mental and physical health. Surprisingly, we began to enjoy it.
Pre-COVID 19, we ran most mornings after our boys got on the bus for school and before our work day kicked into gear. We live just a few blocks from Como Park, home to a lake, a zoo, and plenty of paths to run on. Strangely, we found a community on our morning runs. We gave the other regulars nicknames -- “Young Grandpa Forest” for the hat-wearing man who reminded me of my late grandfather (albeit this grandpa usually carried an energy drink, something I couldn’t picture MY Grandpa Forest enjoying on a morning walk); “Older Dad” for the man who reminded us of my dad in another ten years -- gray beard and all; “Dog Grandpa” for the man who, you guessed it, walked with his sweet little Scottie dog. Not everyone was 70+ on our route, but many were. We exchanged pleasantries and smiles when our paths crossed, no matter the weather. We could always count on seeing our “friends” as I had taken to calling them. One morning “Young Grandpa Forest” called out to us as we ran past. “Come to the orchid show at the conservatory this weekend!” We didn’t make it to the orchid show, but the next Monday, we did stop to talk when he asked if we had made it. It turns out his name is George, not Forest. (I decided not to hold it against him.) He lived on our side of the lake. While I don’t think we shook hands, we definitely stood closer than six feet. After that morning, we always greeted George by name. “Hi Chris and Kim!” he would shout with a smile as we met on our path. And then the virus came, disrupting all of our plans and procedures, even our running. While we have still been running, our route has changed. The path around the lake looks too populated most days to keep proper distance, and because we don’t want to run with masks if we don’t have to, we’ve opted for less populated routes. We also are running later in the day, usually during a lunch break. For these reasons, we no longer see our friends, and of course, if we did, we wouldn't feel comfortable standing and talking too close. On a couple of occasions, we’ve seen Dog Grandpa and Older Dad from a distance, but for months now, we’ve missed George. Every time we’ve driven by the lake, my neck craned, searching for him. I can’t explain why. Maybe it was a symbol of “normal times.” Maybe I was worried about him. After all, he’s in the more vulnerable age group. Maybe I missed that steady routine, that well-worn route where we could watch the ice creep over the lake and then months later recede, where I could run across the bridge near the pavilion without worrying about keeping distance if someone was coming the other direction, where I could gasp in delight at the crunch of leaves beneath my feet and laugh as our eyelashes accumulated snowflakes. Maybe seeing George nearly every day meant that my biggest parenting worry was remembering to sign the form for basketball and finding out what time practice ended that day. It meant that the virus lexicon of antibodies and social distancing and contact tracing was as unfamiliar as my newfound worries for my son’s social health as they miss friends and long-term academic concerns as I attempt to teach algebra and geometry. Months passed and no George, until Saturday. On a whim, we decided to add an extra mile, looping back around an extra block before rounding the final stretch home. As we prepared to turn east from the lake, I saw him across the street, wearing his signature trilby hat. He was too far away for me to call out, but I nearly did. I suspect it was pure joy, not running endorphins, that plastered the smile on my face as we finished our last few blocks. “We saw George!” I told our kids later. Even they knew I had been looking for him. They were surprisingly happy for me, perhaps recognizing this meant something more than just some strange man on the path around the lake. This isn’t my symbol that life is back to normal, far from it. But it is a reminder of a life we once knew, a life we will live again, someday. And you can be sure my eyes are going to be scanning the path around the lake when we head out on our run again tomorrow, hoping to see some of our familiar friends.
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As my semester winds down for the classes I would have been teaching on campus, I put together an anonymous survey to ask some specific questions about our transition to a virtual learning environment. The responses were....confusing.
As we moved to a virtual learning environment, what aspects of this class became more challenging? Student A: Not getting personal feedback was a bit irritating because there is only so much information that can be conveyed digitally. Student B: I think that not much became challenging because we were still able to get feedback from the professor and the students. If virtual learning were to continue, what advice do you think professors need to have? Student A: Maybe be more clear for due dates. It was hard for me right away Student B: Also having a weekly agenda and due dates was very beneficial. What other feedback would you like me to have at this time? Student A: I loved how your ZOOM meetings weren't really focused on learning material or instruction as it was more like getting a coffee and sitting down and having a conversation. Student B: Zoom should have been used a lot more for group activities and class session to teach in. Being able to be with the others students and have more teacher/student interaction would make it better to complete activities. Because I know myself (Enneagram 2), I will spend the summer thinking about the negative responses and how I can make necessary changes in the fall if we continue in an online environment, but I also realize that like all teaching, there is no one-size-fits-all approach that will work for every student. Just as some students dread peer review while others find it incredibly helpful, some students will want regular required meetups and others will prefer to work through assignments on their own. I don't know the answers. I don't like not knowing the answers, not being able to grasp what the future holds. This state of uncertainty is maddening, as are all of the conflicting reports I see of how distance learning is going in other houses around the world. I see Twitter threads about how teachers aren't doing enough followed by a thread on how teachers are asking too much of students. On Facebook I see conversations of parents who are ready for the school year to just be over already followed by comments of parents who are considering homeschooling indefinitely because their kids are thriving in the setting. I see it in my own house where one son wakes early and diligently completes all schoolwork for the day while his brother sleeps late and pushes off all schoolwork until the very last possible minute each week. But I know teachers. Most (not all, I will admit, but most) will work tirelessly this summer, assessing and reassessing, learning new tools and reading about new strategies. I will be with them. I will grade finals this week and then spend some time in the garden before I roll up my sleeves and do the necessary work to be ready for a new semester -- whatever that semester might looks like. Polio at five,
Months in a hospital bed You’re a survivor Head tilted over The trashcan in the kitchen You’re trimming my bangs Giggles with Vicki Racing your wine to the fridge “Grandma D is here!” Standing tall on the Chair pulled next to the counter: Where I learned to bake The best medicine: On the couch with soaps, saltines You made me feel safe Your perfume lingers Lovely lipstick, mascara It must be date night! In the dressing room Helping me try on mountains Of clothes: Shopping trips Angsty teen moments Words I could never erase You always forgave Busy high school years Contests all around the state You didn’t miss one Quilts cut, sewn with care Favorite cakes, breads, apple pies You love through action Still in love with Dad And now the perfect grandma Teaching me always “You look like your mom!” I used to shrug my shoulders Now I nod with pride |
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September 2020
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