Today my youngest son and I ran an errand for my brother in Iowa: We went to IKEA. (I brought him along for his muscles. Don't worry. I rewarded him with a coffee stop on the way home.) I hadn't been to IKEA since pre-COVID, so I didn't know what to expect. I did know, however, that the desk my niece wanted kept selling out, so when I saw there were still 12 in stock, we went for it. When we arrived, we saw a shockingly long line full of (mostly) masked shoppers waiting for entry. The line moved quickly, though, as IKEA monitored those in and out of the store. Inside the store, we knew right where to go, and the check-out line was quick. The hardest part was steering the unwieldy cart of boxes. Inside the store, masks were required, but some waiting in line didn't have them on. I noticed one group of middle-aged white women who chose not to wear masks as they waited in line. They stood and chatted as if it was a normal shopping trip to IKEA, as if we weren't currently in a global pandemic. One woman was wearing a shirt that stated "Faith Over Fear." It made me pause. Was she sending a sign? (I thought the same thing yesterday when the student who had to be asked to cover his nose was wearing an American flag bandanna. Am I paranoid and reading too much into everything now? Maybe.) Maybe it was just the shirt she chose to wear today. Or maybe she thinks choosing to stand in line without a mask is an act of faith. For me, choosing to stand in line with a mask in line is an act of faith, an act of love for my neighbor. I'm back in the classroom now, so I have no idea if I've been exposed to the virus. I can have faith and a healthy fear of a deadly virus. Both/and, not either/or.
0 Comments
Today was my first day back on campus with students since we adjourned for spring break in March. My classroom is in the athletic building. Ah, the irony! I'm teaching in a building full of athletes and coaches. Usually I like to get to class with plenty of time to get coffee, start my music, situate the technology I need, etc. Today I didn't want to arrive too early because of the shared air, but I still needed to make sure Zoom was working. When I arrived at my classroom, a group of coaches was holding a meeting. So I waited in the hallway. And waited. And waited some more. With just 15 minutes before class, I finally entered with a small apology. While most of the coaches were masked, a couple were not. I miss having my own classroom. Masks, for my students, weren't an issue. Our campus and state require them, so everyone had some kind of face covering. I did have to remind a couple of students during my first class that they needed to make sure their noses were covered, but they complied without arguing. While I was able to keep myself a safe distance from my students, their seats don't allow for a full six feet between chairs. During my first class today, I was stilted and nervous. I wasn't sure how much chit-chat to engage in before class (my usual method to help students feel at ease on the first day), so I tried to smile behind my mask as students shuffled in and cleaned their workplaces with sanitizer. The time went quickly. I'm supposed to dismiss students by section at the end of class so they aren't all jumbled up in the doorway. Of course I forgot, so they looked at me awkwardly until I remembered. Hopefully we stay on campus long enough for these actions to become habits for me. When my second group of students came in, I engaged with them a bit more. Julia was sitting in the front row. "Oh," I said as I noticed her name card. "I don't have daughters, but if I did, one would be named Julia because of the song by the Beatles." She stared at me blankly. "You don't know that song?" She said no, but she had heard of the Beatles. I started that class feeling like a dinosaur. I gave her an extra assignment of going home and listening to that beautiful song. I hope she likes it. I felt like a dinosaur even more when I had a couple of technology glitches that I didn't have in the first class. First, one student who was joining remotely got stuck in the Zoom waiting room, even though I had disabled it when I started our session. Luckily I saw an email from her and was able to resend the link. Then the Padlet link I had set up for some online discussion wasn't working. I blundered my way through and punted for a solid Plan B. In the meantime, we all laughed. I can't tell you how good it felt to be laughing in a classroom with students again. I also thoroughly enjoyed the quiet moments we spent writing together as we explored this question: What makes writing powerful? This summer I worked on my LinkedIn profile. Do I want to be an adjunct forever? Probably not. Was I super nervous to come back to campus in COVID Times? Absolutely! But today in between classes I received an email from LinkedIn that I promptly deleted. For today, I felt like I was right where I needed to be! |
AboutTeach. Archives
September 2020
|