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.

Live Under COVID Six Months In

Life under COVID six months in:

I never forget my mask anymore. I have a selection of several masks, actually, including the Northwest Missouri State University mask I wear below.
My weekly restaurant date with Richard (my husband) is no longer, because restaurants are rife with COVID and are a major contagion source. We do take carryout.
I can now teach live and on Zoom at the same time. I hate it. I can’t move out of the sight of the camera and all the Zoomies see is my head.
I dream of the Grotto at The Elms, a cabin at Mozingo, a celebratory dinner at Bluestem. An orchestra, shopping in Macy’s in Chicago, Christmas at Starved Rock, an Amtrak train across the country. What I have is a predictable path from my house to the university and back, with an occasional stop at the cafe.
I curse our leadership for letting COVID get this entrenched in the country. Countries with early quarantine, frequent testing, and well-equipped hospitals have gotten back to a near-normal.
At least I haven’t gotten COVID. I attribute this to the strong controls my county and my university have — masks in public, contract tracing, disinfecting surfaces, office hours by appointment only and socially distanced.

I know I will celebrate when the virus is taken down. I will go on that writers’ retreat and eat in that fancy restaurant to celebrate my novel. I’m holding on till then.

Reflecting on six weeks of isolation

This is the view from my window”

Gloomy, isn’t it. The window is right by my downstairs workstation, however, where I do most of my writing. Sometimes it’s sunny. Sometimes I see people walking past and cars driving by.

This is my life under quarantine.

So are my experiments with sourdoughs. Today, a loaf of yeast water no-knead bread (Henrietta) sits on the stovetop, waiting for its time to bake. (Yeast water is different from sourdough in that you have what amounts to a weak wine working on the bread dough).

So is my writing. I took a break from adding a stronger beginning to Prodigies yesterday; I should be able to finish that today and then go through the book to adapt things.

So is coffee. Between my husband’s roasts brewed in a vacuum pot and the Nespresso machine for mid-afternoon cups, I’m covered.

So are the fountain pens I’m collecting — All under $25, mostly Japanese (Pilot Metropolitan, Platinum Plaisir) and German (Lamy Al-Star), and a really inexpensive Jinhao that looks like a Lamy made by Rubbermaid). This and ink is where my allowance has been going the past few months, as I like collecting practical things I can use.

So is my teaching online. And the Zoom faculty meetings.

I don’t have it too bad, despite the view out my window being very limited. My husband and I still have jobs that allow social isolation. We have money for groceries. We have four cats. We have each other. We’re staying healthy.

This quarantine is so much harder for so many other people.