The Death of Snow Days

Once upon a time, not that long ago (pardon me the cheesy intro, but it’s that kind of topic) there were snow days. Snow days existed so that students, teachers, and staff didn’t have to venture out into a blizzard or major snowstorm to get to classes. However, snow days became a random winter treat to students (and teachers) .

Snow days gathered their own folklore. Everyone believed that their school had fewer snow days than any of the surrounding schools. Winter weather was counted in number of snow days.

Students treated this as a day apart from routine, to celebrate the novelty, and to watch tv or play indoor games. Teachers as well took it as a welcome release from routine, a day for a late breakfast and time to catch up at home.

COVID, it seems, has killed the snow day.

The same technologies that have brought us synchronous distance learning (i.e. teaching/learning in a classroom remotely using Zoom or other conferencing software) have taken away our snow days. Why? Because the teacher can teach at home, the students can learn at home, and nobody need venture out in the snow.

This morning, Maryville MO is in blizzard conditions. Only 4-5 inches of snow, but it’s blowing pretty hard. And instead of a snow day, we were instructed to teach from home. And thus the snow day ends, a victim of technology and the perpetual need to be productive, which snow days gave us a welcome break from.

First Day of Classes Woe

First day back to work (in a couple hours), and the beginning of the new semester. And this is what I’m expecting:

Students who won’t turn their cameras on on Zoom
Me making some stellar mistake on Zoom that my students get me out of
One student who shows up in person despite two emails that said we will meet on Zoom for the first day.
At least one absolutely urgent task over email
A student who has figured out filters! on Zoom
Me almost forgetting my mask on a run to the bathroom
Kittens on Zoom!

This being said, there should be at least one totally unexpected thing happening today. Like another water main breaking (we had that the other day) or an Internet outage.

This is the fun of teaching. You never know what to expect.

A excerpt of my WIP

An excerpt from my work in progress:

Across the floor of the café, Jeanne wrestled with the program with which she laid out her permaculture gardens. In particular, the app balked at selecting a single clump of plants in a permaculture guild, and instead she lifted the entire 2-acre garden diagram off ground level and into the impossibly blue sky. She needed a better computer, one which could handle the graphics better. She sighed and turned back to her computer. When she glanced up after a few more painstaking minutes of moving the clumps of greenery, she spied a young man sitting across from her. She knew his face: the unruly straight black hair, brown almond-shaped eyes, a sensuous mouth. The slam poet. The man who had looked over at her earlier.

“I’m Josh Young,” he announced in a light, dry tenor. “I’ve seen you around here. I hope I’m not interrupting you.” He grimaced; she chuckled when she saw his rueful expression. “Was that as awkward as it sounded?”

She silently applauded his straightforwardness. “I’m Jeanne Beaumont,” she replied, extending her hand. He gripped her hand firmly, which she appreciated. His grip fitted with his graceful movement. “But I think you know that, for some reason.” She caught his eyes; he grinned.

“Green Things and Felicitations,” Josh chuckled. “The episode with the Jeannie Beans.”

“I remember you. You went to my Thursday Night Lecture — ” Jeanne scrutinized the young man, trying to discern his motives for meeting her.

“Three years ago,” Josh responded. “My senior year. I went to grad school from here to get a double Master’s — MFA and MS in English. Then I came back here. I’m in the Writing and Languages Department. I teach Composition and wrangle the Slam Poets Society.”

Jeanne calculated in her head — Josh had to be 25 or 26. Twenty years younger. So, are you waiting for someone? Or are you here to talk to me? she wondered to herself, thinking how unlikely the latter would be. Reflexively, she swiveled around to check whether a cluster of young, ragged poets stood in the background laughing behind their hands at the scene. To her relief, she saw none.

“No, actually, I came here alone — I felt restless, so I came out here to check out the scene.” Josh looked up at her, his mouth quirked. “Am I disturbing you?”

Only as much as darling young men usually do, Jeanne reflected. “Not at all. Would you like to join me for the music tonight? We can drink coffee together.”

She thought she heard the answer in his grin. Illogical, she thought. Just like the whiff of apple blossom that wafted by.

The Beginning of Spring Semester

Work is starting to leak into my last days off — revising the syllabi (already written) for the university records, fielding emails from internships, meetings, trying to locate all my masks …

And rewriting my schedule, so I have time to write despite work coming back into full swing.

One of the pluses of teaching at a university is that we get more time off than other people. Actually, we don’t have as much time off as it looks, because we have to do class prep, take emails, have meetings and the like. Still, we get at least more flexible time to get these things done. (Note, I work summers supervising interns, so that’s not a vacation either.)

I have to get back into the mindset, though. The routine. Getting dressed for work, grading, getting ready for classes (which will be taught online and over Zoom simultaneously.) Meetings and more meetings.

I can start that on Thursday.

Am I ready? Am I ever?

Classes are starting in a couple days, and I hope I’m ready for them. I always feel like I’m not quite ready, but I also feel assured that none of my colleagues at the University feel like they’re ready either. It’s the lament of faculty everywhere, I guess. (Just as I started writing, something broke in one of my online course sites and I had to fix it. So much for being ready.)

It will be another semester of social distancing, because vaccines have not been widely available in the US yet. I will meet with half the class at a time again, giving the same activities to each section. Tuesday and Thursday will be my busy days. Office hours will be Zoom or live. Everything live will be with masks on.

I have gotten used to COVID protocols, strangely enough. I’m accustomed to not going places, wearing masks, Zooming. I miss live teaching, but if distance protocols are how I have to teach, I’ll keep doing so.

So I’ll be as ready as I can on Thursday when I start teaching.

Mourning the wreckage of a noble experiment

It’s not over yet for the US.

There are rumors of a big insurrection hitting Washington for the inauguration, with Twitter verifying. I’m hoping that the National Guard and the Capitol Police are enough to stop it if it comes. This is all very scary in a country that thought it was above all this.

That’s one of the definitive factors of the US — our hubris. Our famous last words are “It will never happen here”. It is happening here, and those of us who predicted it would feel vindicated at the same time we wish it wouldn’t have happened.

It’s still a scary time, and I feel very unprepared for the results. I wonder if I’m looking at the wreckage of a noble experiment called democracy in the US. I guess we had our time as a country, with the best days during my early childhood. I can’t help but feel our politicians don’t know how to do the hard work anymore, with most of the political energy expended into power struggles and equivocal statements that, in the end, mean nothing.

I would like to have faith in the US again, a version that doesn’t let white supremacy up to the front door of the Capitol nor let it walk in their halls. One where the White House can truly mobilize the COVID response, and societal ills can be addressed.

But if I had the money (as my job prospects at age 57 are marginal), I would move to Canada.

Where I stand (not with Trump)

In case there’s any question of where I stand:

I want to see President Trump impeached for inciting sedition.

It’s too late for the 25th Amendment (relieving Trump of duties because he’s unfit for duty) because that would just absolve him of what happened at the Capitol on Wednesday. He could claim insanity and avoid prosecution.

Trump needs to be prevented from trying for another term in 2024, which would happen if he were impeached and convicted. I’m not against Republicans per se. I’m against seditious Republicans, and that includes Cruz and Hawley. There is a process for addressing grievances, and a Congressman (or even President) doesn’t always get their way. You don’t order a mob onto the Capital just because you don’t get your way.

I’m not arguing anything novel, anything nobody else has thought about. I’m not that genius, I’m not a policymaker, I’m not a pundit. I’m an ordinary American scared of what I’ve seen.

Yesterday’s Coup Attempt

I don’t really want to write this today, because I already have nightmares from the events at the US Capitol yesterday, but it needs to be written:

Yesterday’s insurgence at the capitol was an attempted coup led by our outgoing president, who irresponsibly egged on a mob to do his bidding and then pretended that he had not.

The US has always prided itself on being “too good” for anti-democratic actions, yet many of us far away from Washington DC saw what was coming. With a demagogue for president, one who has shown little inclination toward anything but megalomania, this was inevitable. But it turned out worse than we thought.

It’s scary living in the US right now. It’s less scary, given that Congress has affirmed the electoral college vote, but I’m afraid we haven’t seen the last of these traitors given that both houses and the presidency is Democrat for the next two years.

I hope someone sees fit to invoke the 25th Amendment (removing a president from office due to unfitness to serve) even if it’s only 13 more days till inauguration.

I wondered how I would take watching a mob-rule coup attempted. Now I know.

Working while Sleeping

This music is supposed to wake me up. The coffee is supposed to wake me up, Why, then, am I not waking up?

Maybe I should type this half-asleep. I can actually type half-asleep, at least for a couple sentences before I wake up and check it. But I can’t transition to the next idea without being awake.

Wouldn’t being able to type while asleep be a good thing? Think about how much work you can get done while asleep! All the times you said “I could do this in my sleep”? What if you could?

Think about being able to type out your dreams while still having them? Ok, maybe writing on a pad with a pen, as I don’t generally sit up while dreaming. I’d love to capture my dreams, though, so maybe sitting up while sleeping would be worth it. A sleep chair and a computer desk?

Maybe this wouldn’t be a good idea. If employers found out you could work in your sleep, they would assume you could answer emails in your sleep, and then you’d never get any rest. I’m salaried, so my 55-hour week could eventually expand to a 140-hour work week. I don’t like that idea.

I think I’ve convinced myself that being productive while asleep isn’t such a good idea. That’s fine — the coffee is finally taking effect.

Living a double life

I’m definitely half-asleep. I started thinking about writing in this blog and then closed my eyes and started planning exam questions in Personal Adjustment (my positive psychology course for spring semester). I wish it was chapters of my work in progress; that would have been much more helpful at this moment.

I have a double-life. I teach, and when I’m not teaching, I write. And they’re two different worlds. I teach psychology and human services classes, and I do research occasionally on things like credit card use and euphemisms in advertising. I have about 90 students in a semester, including the internship students.

So in a few days, my days will be more absorbed in teaching and zoom meetings and the like. I will find time to write, and I might even write better because I have breaks from writing. Ironic, maybe, but that’s how it often works for me.

I look forward to retiring, but that won’t be for at least five years given the health insurance situation. Unless a miracle (the Powerball) happens, in which case I will retire early. So odds are (about a million to one) I will have the double life for a while longer.