COVID Peek-A-Boo: I Don’t See You!

Remember learning about a baby’s conception of object permanence? They are only aware of things when those things are in sight. Hide them, and to the baby, they no longer exist. It is a sign of developmental growth when an infant will search for an object that it can no longer see. 

I think many Americans lack COVID permanence. They believe that, if they can’t see COVID right now, it isn’t here. If they close their eyes and minds to the situation, the situation will magically conform to their version of reality. 

Tell it to the virus!

I am shocked by the number of people who are going about their lives as if there is no virus, as if the entire pandemic is over and they are free and clear. The numbers are going up. The flu is very much present and hospitals are full of people, mostly children, with RSV, another contagious virus. It would seem that additional precautions are more than warranted. 

Nope! Eyes closed! I don’t see it! It isn’t there. I’m just fine! 

I shouldn’t be surprised. This has been an issue since the beginning of the pandemic, 1000 days ago. Humans in general, but Americans in particular, are shockingly good at fooling themselves into believing what they want to believe, even when it is painfully clear that they are living in a fantasy. 

Who won the 2020 election? Depends on if you subscribe to the real world or not. What must be done to combat climate change? Nothing if your head is buried in the sand while your behind is blowing in a hurricane! Racism? Playing the victim should be a new board game! Shall I go on? 

Some areas in the United States are moving indoors now. It has been more than a month since anyone could even entertain the thought of dining outdoors where I live. Thanksgiving events served more than turkey and stuffing. Families do what all families do: whatever they get, they share – and then they share it with the folks in the bus, plane, mall, and elevator! Tis the season of giving everyone the virus! 

In the areas of the United States where outdoor dining is still possible, the denial is so strong that their hospitals are shipping sick folks to colder places! People don’t want their so-called freedoms restrained, but are more than willing to use those freedoms to sicken their neighbors. 

And your conspiracy folks? They have moved into peek-a-boo eyes closed land. They know, somewhere not so deep down, that these fictions are just that. This is why any attempt to question or examine them leads down a never-ending spiral of evidence-free hypothetical speculation. They have fallen in love with object impermanence and will fight for their freedom to live in fantasyland. 

While that might have been okay in the past, now too many people’s refusal to grow up, put on big people’s pants, and address the problems facing all of us has become another one of the problems facing all of us. COVID, climate change, racism, election integrity, and so many other problems threaten all of us – but only some of us are actively working to address them. 

That part isn’t new. There have always been a small number of selfish and immature children who masquerade as adults - and now they are recruiting. They have decided that their game of peek-a-boo is a virtue, a right, and a fact. They are incensed over anyone’s attempts to acknowledge reality and protect all of us, seek justice, or save ourselves and our planet. 

But we see you! COVID is still here. Climate change is humanity’s greatest threat, and the movement toward a more equitable and just society is unstoppable. You can pretend otherwise, but that is all it is –make-believe. 

Reality doesn’t bend to your belief or acceptance. Reality doesn’t care about your freedoms or rights. Reality doesn’t play peek-a-boo. 

And reality is coming for you! 

Reading For Treasure: Education Issues

Reading for Treasure is my list of articles that are worth your attention. Click here for an introduction!

Earlier this month, I spent two days back at school working with teachers and librarians and talking to kids about books. It was wonderful, rejuvenating, and exhausting! One of the reasons I started this list of articles was I didn’t want to keep sending my not-yet-retired colleagues articles that I thought they would find interesting or useful. So I post them here instead. My mind is on all the different aspects of education: grading, social and emotional health, classroom practices, athletics, safety, and many other topics. Since my list is long this month, I am limiting myself to a very short description of each article.  

First, some articles that focus on teaching and the teacher experience: 

“I No Longer Grade My Students’ Work — And I Wish I Had Stopped Sooner” in Blavity. “I’ve been teaching college English for more than 30 years. Four years ago, I stopped putting grades on written work, and it has transformed my teaching and my students’ learning. My only regret is that I didn’t do it sooner.” 

“The Case Against Zeros in Grading” in Edutopia. I am shocked that some teachers still need to hear this argument. This article and the accompanying video make it clear: zeros demotivate students and count more than their successes! 

“Why So Many Teachers Are Leaving, and Why Others Stay” in Cult of Pedagogy.. Jennifer Gonzalez shares eight teachers’ stories: four who are leaving and four who are not. These are critically important voices that need to be heard.  

“Stress, Hypervigilance, and Decision Fatigue: Teaching During Omicron And, no, “self care” isn’t the answer” in Education Week. Katy Faber paints a vivid picture of what it is like to teach during this difficult time in America. 

"Why is America the Only Country in the World With Regular School Shootings?" in Eudaimonia and Co via Medium. Umair Haque has gone to school all over the world and shares how American schools are horribly unique. The issues we are having are not functions of adolescent development but of American culture. 

"Pandemic Shadow Syllabus" in Sonya Hubor's blog. This is a short and wonderful teacher struggling with the pandemic point of view piece. Teachers – if you read only one of these, let it be this one. 

A few articles that deal with education’s social context: 

“Young people need power.' Southern students on safety, accountability, and what they need from adults” in Scalawag.  This is a series of statements from young people about what it is like to be in school now. Read what the kids say about their experiences! 

"Is Your Child Too Popular for Their Own Good?" in Lifehaker. While some parents are clueless and others are ruthless, there are many kinds of popular in school and this article explores what some studies say about how popularity in middle and high school translates into adulthood. 

“OP-ED: When It Comes To Book Bans, America Could Learn From Apartheid South Africa” in NewsOne. The comparison is eerie and frightening – and right on the money: book challenges in America today are frighteningly similar to those in South Africa during Apartheid. 

Two pieces that focus on equity in college admissions from The Atlantic: 

"College Admissions Are Still Unfair" Colleges are eliminating legacy admissions, but this will not make things much better. At Amherst, there is a greater percentage of white athletes than in the general student body – and many play sports like crew and squash. Sounds like white affirmative action to me. 

"Colleges Can Fix the Broken Admissions Process They Created" This is a great list of ways colleges could improve the admission process to benefit everyone! 

Two very different focuses on kids and youth sports: 

“Do youth sports really build character? What kids gain from sports depends on adults”  in KQED Mindshift. The benefits of sports participation for kids are entirely dependent on coaches and contexts. This article spells out clearly the nature of adult’s influence, for better or worse, on children. 

“Guys, I Swear I’m Only Transitioning So I Can Cheat at Girls’ Sports” in McSweeny's. This older McSweeny’s satire makes the point well: the controversy over trans students in sports is an invented issue that fans the flames of hate at the expense of kids who really need to be part of the team!  

I am currently reading House of Suns by Alastair Reynolds 

The Tone of Gesture

Did anyone in your family watch the old PBS children’s show, Barney- the show with the purple dinosaur who said he loved you and you loved him? Whatever you thought of the costumed title character, few people fondly remember the children on the show. There is a good reason. They were horrible over-actors. Their behavior was exaggerated and overblown. If my children brought a friend home who acted like these children, I would have been extremely concerned about their wellbeing. When I taught theatre class, I used these Barney children as examples of overacting. 

However, in the past three years, we have all become overacting Barney kids. When I am on Zoom, I find that I am often moving my arms and head to complement my words. When I speak, I gesture even more than I normally do (and I am a very expressive and physical speaker). I use Zoom backgrounds to communicate as well. Similarly, when I am wearing a mask, I compensate with the rest of my body. I work hard to “smize” and use my eyes to convey my emotions. Again, I find that I am using broad and exaggerated arm and hand gestures. My entire body tries to complement my eyes and communicate more than the semantic definitions of my words but their emotional meaning. 

While the pandemic has not turned many of us into over-emoters like those kids on children’s television, it has also given us insight into their motives. I have been placed in this tiny box and all you can see is a piece of me. Half my face is covered and you don’t know if I am being sarcastic, simple, or mean. So I need to supplement my language with large gestures. 

Our tone of voice often communicates a layer of meaning that our words alone cannot express. A mask muffles and obscures this. Zoom shrinks this. Thus, we need physical gestures to make sure that the most important meanings, the ones that are more powerful than mere denotation, to make it through these COVID-created barriers. 

Has this turned us all into cheerleaders, spelling out each affirmation and encouragement? Not quite. Has this made us more aware of the limits of language and how easy it is to misinterpret and confuse? Certainly! 

I’ll bet that most of us aren’t even aware that we are compensating this way. Like players of Charades, we are acting out the words and ideas in order to leap the linguistic, technological, and safety barriers. We want to be understood – really understood – in a way we took for granted just a few years ago.  

Bring understood means clearly communicating through not only what we say, but also how we say it. We all know that people can say things that are complementary and positive if we read them, but can be brutal and cruel when spoken in a certain tone of voice. The reverse is also true. Some of us struggle to make sense of this kind of sarcasm. Gestures, facial expressions, and vocal tone are the keys to communicating it. 

Communication that is only typed text lacks this context. There is no gesture or voice to a text or email. We add emojis or initialized shortcuts to indicate that we are just kidding (JK), rolling on the floor laughing (ROFL), or shaking our head (SMH). We instinctively know that our written words inadequately communicate important parts of our message and our reader needs help to comprehend all the levels of our meaning. 

This is also why we can find emails or text messages so problematic when the sender fails to recognize their tone and context. People take offense at texts that the sender thought were merely informational. Emails make the recipient feel horrible when the sender thought they were just being factual. 

How we communicate is at the very least as important as what we communicate –probably it is more important. We cannot help but embed our emotions as we connect with each other, even if it is accidentally. 

I do not like wearing a mask. I prefer to share a room IRL (in real life) with people rather than be placed in a Brady Bunch box on the screen. However, over the past three years, COVID has forced us to be more thoughtful about our communication, hone our nonverbal skills, and heightened our awareness of the meanings behind the words: the tone created by the intersection of our words and the physical gestures that accompany them. 

Good Riddence to the 2021-2022 School Year

I dreamed last night that I was visiting my old school on the last day of the year. I dreamed that I was going through offices and classrooms, wishing people well, and meeting new staff members. We joked and hugged and laughed and were all dressed in Halloween costumes. I dreamed that things were just as I left them, but different and better.

But that isn’t the school at which my friends and former co-workers teach. That isn’t the reality of education at the end of the 2021-2022 school year. That was my dream (really), but the truth is that my friends are survivors of a disaster. They end this year with anxiety, anger, frustration, grief, pain, and lots of tears. 

And it shouldn’t be this way. 

Teachers, Counselors, and other school staff are asked to carry it all. They are simultaneously hailed as heroes who will save, protect, and sacrifice for their students with opportunities and weapons and love and knowledge, and then derided as groomers and political opportunists, lazy slackers, and self-serving conspiracy puppets. When it serves the sound bite, they are the saviors of society and when it fits the narrative, they are taking our children into an uncomfortable world of race, gender, and masks. 

And it is too much. 

My colleagues have been carrying the pandemic. Their mantra has been “We’ll make it work,” and “We do what’s best for kids.” They have been performing a high wire acrobatic juggling. Sometimes, their administrators and school boards, and communities have stood by their sides and provided a net. But just as often, those who should be their allies have turned on them and thrown them flaming torches and shaken the tent, threatening to bring the entire circus crashing to the ground in flames and flesh. 

And teachers are exhausted. 

So as the end of the school year approaches, as summer rounds the corner, kids are fidgeting in their seats, and classrooms start to smell of sweat and cut grass, as the looming grading deadlines feel like Kuber-Ross’s stages, let us bid a not so fond goodbye bye to this disaster of a school year. 

Of course, we wish you a relaxing and rejuvenating summer, time with your family, and time to yourself. We wish you health, which has been Sisyphean these past two years.

And we thank you. 

I am not sure I know how to do this. As a retired teacher who left just before the sky fell, I can only half imagine what these years have felt like. For the first time, I have heard several school friends say to me, "I hate working here." As a supporter on the side, I have seen the disrespect and destruction, heard the yelling, and unbelievable thoughtlessness. Alice had it far easier. I felt both guilty that it was you and relief that it wasn’t me and anguish it was happening. People say to me every day – every.single.day – that I “got out at the right time.” I wish you could join me. Right now. 

And we should be concerned that you will. 

Teachers are leaving in droves. They watch their friends and colleagues of decades marching toward the cliff’s edge and feel the pull of gravity. Wonderful, inspiring, passionate professionals are packing their classrooms for the last time right now. As the lockers slam and the sneakers squeak down the hall, they are crying with relief and shame. Accountants are not asked to kill themselves for taxes, but sometimes healthcare folks are. 

And our teachers. 

This is not an exaggeration. I have heard a call for a student strike in the fall. What if students said, “We aren’t going back to our classrooms until it we are safe from gun terrorists.” What if parents said that?  What if teachers, across this nation, said, we will not conduct another active shooter drill until lawmakers stop the senseless stream of school shootings! 

So hear me clearly. Hear it from a retired veteran teacher: Teachers, you have been outstanding. You have made critical differences in children’s lives. You have nurtured, challenged, enriched, advocated – and educated. You have fought the good fight – over and over and over and over. What you have done matters and will continue to matter, even if you are no longer doing it. 

And now it is your time. 

Some of you will return to the classroom in the fall. Some of you will retire. Some of you will watch the stream of buses and kids with backpacks and step out of the line. Some of you will place your own children at the front and focus there. 

And that is okay.

The last bell is ringing. It brings relief and intense sorrow. Set down the load. Rest. Hold yourself and your loved ones. You have been through a war and, although it is not over, we are hoping for a few months of cease-fire. Go to your bunker. Hug your people. Cry. Unload. Recover. 

And this summer – and all that comes after it – do what heals and helps you. 

Has It Really Been Only Two Years of COVID? It Feels Much Longer.

Part1: Time

For many years, I have made a family calendar as a Father’s Day gift with photos from the prior year. The calendar starts in July of the current year. Of course, some of the photos must be older than one year because I start putting the calendar together a few months early to get it ready and printed. March is that border. The photos are from one year old until April then they are two years old. 

As I turned the page on my calendar, the photos shocked me. This was no April fool joke. They were from the first month of the pandemic. I had a moment when I thought I messed up and included much older photos. I had the opposite of déjà vu is: I felt like the photos could not be only two years old. They felt ancient. 

I have written about the experience of having my adult-ish kids return home and leave – several times during the first year of the pandemic. I have written about my fears of COVID and working hard to get everyone to take precautions. But this was different. 

What struck me, as 2020 appeared on my calendar, was the power of doubt and distance. We are just returning to a kind of normal. I am still wearing a mask when I go to a store, which I am doing more often than I did in 2020, but still infrequently. Yet, there are people who act as if the whole horrible situation is over and gone. I hope they are right. 

I can’t say the second year of COVID moved quickly, but those photos from two years ago feel further from my present. Did this year feel like several years? It didn’t feel that slow while I was living it. I was busy and days flew by.  But now, as I glance backward, the reverse route seems to stretch back well beyond only two years. 

Part 2: Weight 

I don’t think the issue is just about my perception of time; it is also about the enormity of the past two years. There were many major milestones. If I had to carry them all, it would be more than I could handle. Maybe it is the emotional weight of the past two years, the anxiety, fear, relief, and hope – and that cycle repeating over and over. 

I remember riding a Superman roller coaster at a theme park many years ago. Instead of sitting in a seat, the riders were placed in a prone position, as if they were Superman flying. However, it didn’t feel that way. I felt like I was squatting on all fours and the only thing preventing me from dropping to a horrible death was the support under my belly. With roller coasters restraints that pushed me into a chair, I had the illusion I could hang on to something if the bar in front of me released. If this Superman tummy thing broke, my only hope was that I really could fly. I guess I’d fly for a few seconds. When the ride ended, all I felt was relief. 

I haven’t become accustomed to that lack of control, helplessness, and unpredictability. I carry them with me. My mask may come on and off, but I am always carrying the concern and worry (and the mask!). And when hope appears, I am suspicious and tentative. When nothing bad happens, I am grateful and relieved. 

Part 3: Balance

Right now, we are in a COVID sweet spot. People are behaving as if they believe this whole horrible two-year-long episode is over. I hope they are right, but I feel certain they are wrong. I want to take off my mask, but I am afraid of what might happen to the people I love. 

Predictability is one of the many causalities of this pandemic. Uncertainty has become a permanent resident. Every choice feels like placing a bet in a casino, without the fun thrill. 

Reading news of the world is horrifying. I give to charities and do what I can to assist, but it never seems like enough. I am frustrated by politics. I scream at the television and lament my fellow citizens’ clannishness. It is overwhelming. I face the issue and then, having looked at it, wish I could close my senses and retreat.

I am tempted to quote Dickens (and some of you know my deep relationship with the work I am about to reference), but I am so grateful that these past two years were not the worst of times – for me. They were for so many – and continue to be horrible! There were some moments that ironically felt like the best of times. My children were home, then they left. We were all together and could support each other - and then we were apart and on our own again.

Part 4: Now

It was two years ago that the world got sick. It has only become more so and in ever-increasingly complex ways. Denying what we have experienced feels disrespectful to all of those who have suffered. Selfishly focusing on my people will not protect them. I wish the pandemic were truly over. I will do what the public health folks tell me is best for our collective health, but I am painfully aware that this is a group project – and like these projects back in school, too many members of our group are not doing their fair share. The good may not balance out the bad. Our current health may not protect us against future illness. 

Yes, I must learn to cherish now – and consider how to help others while preparing for an uncertain future. But I should not sacrifice present joys to future anxieties and horrors. I can be grateful for my good fortune, help those who are struggling, and stay grounded in this positive potential. These past decades, I mean years, have taught me how agonizingly fragile the present might be. 

Preparing for COVID

While most of us have been and continue to do our best to prevent becoming ill with COVID-19, more and more of us are catching the disease, sometimes multiple times. Increasingly, we know many who have been exposed, infected, or currently are suffering from it. 

Protecting yourself and your family through social distancing, masking, and good hygiene is the first line of defense. We’ve been inundated with that message. But what happens when, despite your best efforts, COVID visits your home? 

Recently, my family discussed this issue. My daughter, who lives alone in a city far from the family, was concerned about getting COVID and being unable to leave her apartment. Fortunately, she works in public health. She created a list of supplies to have on hand before you or someone you love becomes infected; some of it more specific to COVID, but much of it familiar and generally applicable. With her permission (and collaboration), I am sharing that list and some suggestions here. 

Even if you are sick at home, you will still need the basics: toilet paper, paper towels, garbage bags, laundry supplies, soap, tissues, and other sundries. Make sure you have some extras. No need to hoard, but plan on being unable to get to the store for a week or two. My daughter added white distilled vinegar to this list because it has so many additional uses including things like cleaning your humidifier. You should also have bottled water, ice packs, batteries, and toothpaste for an extra week or two. Consider having a notebook handy so you can record your symptoms and the way you treat them. You may be surprised that you do not recall everything when you are sick or notice trends over time. 

Stock up on simple things like shelf-stable products (such as beans, pasta, peanut butter, and vegetables), broths, teas, and crackers. Consider some easy meals that can be prepared with little to no effort. Sports drinks and ginger ale can also be helpful, look for drinks that provide electrolytes (such as Pedialyte or Gatorade). Have an extra week's supply of shampoo, vitamins, and other products you rely on daily. 

Have plenty of basic at-home medical supplies like gloves, masks, hand sanitizers, and basic over-the-counter medicines (such as Pepto Bismal, Neosporin, aspirin, fever reducers, cough drops, cough suppressant, Vicks, nasal spray, etc.). A thermometer and perhaps an oximeter are good ideas, too. They aren’t worth much if their batteries are dead or you don’t know how to work them.  Of course, you should also have an extra supply of whatever prescriptions you regularly take. 

Testing is important, and if you feel crummy, stay home and treat your symptoms. Make a plan in advance for how you would test for COVID. Can you call your doctor? Can you get a home rapid test? Is there a safe drive-through testing site near you? Know when you should be using a rapid test or when a PCR is more appropriate. 

Make sure that your basic medical information is handy and portable in case you need to scoop it up or share it: have copies of your insurance cards, prescriptions, powers of attorney, and lists of doctors and medicines handy. It is great to have these on your phone, but have paper copies, too. Don’t forget your notebook! 

If there are members of your family who are infected and others who are not, masking at home is critically important. Everyone doesn’t respond to the virus the same way. It may be a minor annoyance to some and a serious health concern to others. Protect uninfected members of your household. Infected people should be isolated. If possible, they should have their own bedrooms and bathrooms and eat separately. If that is not possible, masks should be worn and areas cleaned and ventilated after their use. 

Test grocery delivery services before you are in desperate need. Find out if your pharmacy delivers. Which stores, restaurants, or other services offer no contact delivery? Don’t forget pet food! 

We don’t want to get COVID, and we certainly don’t want to give it to anyone else! But we have to acknowledge reality and prepare - nothing is inevitable. One size plan won’t fit everyone, so consider what is best for your situation and tailor the plan appropriately. Making a plan to safely stay at home while we recover is a critical piece of helping ourselves and protecting our community. 

Reading for Treasure: Dealing with the Unvaccinated

Reading for Treasure is my list of articles (and other readings) that are worth your attention. Click here for an introduction.

My most recent blog post makes the metaphor that the unvaccinated are pissing in a pool in which all of us are swimming. It laments the current stalemate between those who want a COVID-19 free world and those who simply won’t get the vaccine. Here are some articles that further explore this topic. 

The Atlantic’s “Vaccine Refusers Don’t Get to Dictate Terms Anymore” This opinion piece makes a strong case that the unvaccinated should have to pay the price for their choice,  “Americans are entitled to make their own decisions, but their employers, health insurers, and fellow citizens are not required to accommodate them.” The time has come for vaccination mandates by schools, employers, agencies, and others or financial penalties as well as testing for the unvaccinated.  

John Banzhaf, a professor emeritus from George Washington University, goes one step further, “Vaccinated workers, students, airline passengers and others who go out in public should not have to bear the risks and huge financial costs that the unvaccinated are imposing on society.” In his opinion column for CNN,  “Make the unvaccinated pay out for their deadly decisions,” he argues that, “Vaccine refusers should pay more for life and health insurance,” as well as  “If the unvaccinated want to get hotel rooms or board cruise ships or fly on airplanes, they should have to pay more to cover the additional costs of thoroughly cleaning and sanitizing the places they may infect. They should also be charged more because of the added burdens associated with requiring all airlines, bus and train passengers to be masked.” Basically, if you don’t want to get vaccinated, you need to pay for the additional costs you are creating! Yes! 

Inverse provides a specific and highly scientific answer to the question, “How Immune Are You After Having COVID-19? Why You Still Need a Vaccine” The common sense answer is to get vaccinated no matter what. Doubt that. Read this! 

Here's an update to my blog post: CNN is reporting that, "New analysis estimates $5.7 billion price tag for treating unvaccinated Covid-19 patients in the last 3 months." That is a lot of money helping people, many of whom could have been vaccinated! 

Finally, a little hope from an older article from The Atlantic. In, “One Vaccine to Rule Them All,”  Dr. James Hamlin describes research to create a universal vaccine. May this research be successful! 

I am currently reading A Desolation Called Peace by Arkady Martine 

Pissing in the Pool: The Broken Social Contract

Recently, a doctor in Alabama stated he would not treat unvaccinated people. It was simply too painful to watch them die. Many of these people, says another doctor, ask for the vaccine as they are being put on the ventilator. 

It is appropriate to feel sorry for people who have made poor decisions like this. Certainly, there are people who, due to medical conditions or circumstances beyond their control, cannot get the vaccine. But what about the willfully and proudly unvaccinated? What about those who could and should be vaccinated, but won’t? 

What happens when people who have been hateful, hurtful, and horrible need help and those of us who have taken proper precautions pay the price of their poor choices? What is our obligation to the unvaccinated, unmasked, Clorox and Ivermectin taking folks? What happens when some people, who place their own desires, feelings, and “rights,” above the wellbeing of the entire community, fill hospitals to capacity so that there isn't even room for children with cancer?  Should we rush to Texas’s and Florida’s aid even if they are outlawing the very actions that would make their situation better?  

The idea of a social contract is  “(a)n implicit agreement among the members of a society to cooperate for social benefits, for example by sacrificing some individual freedom for state protection.” While you may never need the fire department, you pay taxes to have one because it helps the community as a whole – and if someday you should need it, it will be there for you. We all get this idea – or do we? 

“But I don’t trust the government,” someone replies. “It is my right not to wear a mask,” cries another. “You can’t make me get the vaccine,” says the third. Yet, people who have these views are treated in our hospitals like any other. Their children are going to school and potentially spreading COVID. They are making it impossible for children or teachers who are immunocompromised to return to school at all. 

At this point, arguing with them doesn’t seem like it is working. While loving responses and listening and acknowledging their fears may be a way to reach them, that does not address the current preventable crisis. And can that be scaled up to address all of them? They have made their choice clear: their individual choice (which they see as rights) are more important than the social good. Me first, us last. 

Last year, the folks making these claims said that COVID deaths were an acceptable cost for reopening businesses and that we should “sacrifice the weak.” More recently, a woman at a Trump rally compared this situation to “separating the sheep from the goats” which is a reference to a parable from the Gospel of Matthew. Ironically, the sheep are saved and the goats are lost. The unvaccinated woman identified herself correctly as a goat. 

Yet, we are paying for and cleaning up their messes – and it is quite expensive! We are spending billions of dollars to treat unvaccinated people and their choices may mean higher insurance premiums for all of us. Should we endorse their logic and put these goats out to pasture?  

We are an interdependent society; our choices significantly affect far more people than ourselves. We are not living in isolation. Regardless of whether you accept the social contract, we are still all swimming in the same pool.  

Why withhold help from those who need it? Why persist in holding a grudge against unfortunate and misinformed people? What good comes out of hurting those already in pain? Is the suffering of COVID a reasonable consequence for being arrogant and super selfish? 

I don’t think hospitals will stop treating willfully unvaccinated people. It is unlikely that large numbers of doctors will refuse to treat them. But there is an exodus of healthcare professionals leaving the field, and that will affect everyone. 

Here’s the issue: Should the willfully unvaccinated get care despite their disregard for the chaos they create or do we back off and let them suffer the consequences of their choices, even though that, too, could be deadly. 

If you run a red light, you get a ticket. If you leave your child in a hot car, that’s child abuse. If you drive under the influence…There are consequences when people flagrantly break the social contract. Defying mask mandates is against the law and prohibiting them is certainly a breach of contract. What about vaccination? 

It’s a lose-lose scenario if there ever was one. Thanks, assholes. 

Will We Still Zoom?

Slowly, things are opening up. I got a haircut, ate inside a restaurant, and shopped at Costco! Life is in person again (somewhat), and, slowly, it is feeling more normal. 

Yet the digital adaptations we made during this pandemic had advantages, too. The commute was fantastic. I loved being able to attend events wearing whatever I wanted. And those events were not restricted by geography.  

What parts of the digital quarantine will we keep? How will our immersion in Zoom and other video chat systems change now that it is safe to come together inside again (provided we are vaccinated)? 

We may see that many, if not most, events are hybrid. Some will merely stream so those who are not in the room can witness them. Others may go further and create ways that allow distant participants to be actively engaged. 

However, telepresence is not always an adequate substitute for physical presence; often, if you were on a screen and some of the other attendees are in person, you can become a second-class participant. Getting a word in is difficult when everyone is on Zoom. When some are sitting in a room and some are on Zoom, it is even harder for the Zoomers to cut into the conversation. While some meetings can be replaced this way, sometimes, traveling to be in person is going to be necessary. 

One of the most wonderful parts of Zoom culture was that participation was not hindered by geography or disability. I participate in a book club that now has members from all over the country. In addition, we have members who have physical difficulties that make attending in-person too challenging. Zoom lets everyone be together without the travails of travel. 

I attended a few virtual conventions. While I missed the social aspects, I thought the panels were great! Some of my pet peeves about panels vanish when they are on Zoom. My biggest pet peeve is that sometimes audience members think they are part of the panel. They speak up without being acknowledged by the moderator, comment freely, and often dominate discussion. Not on Zoom, they don’t! Audience members only get to participate when the moderator allows. I loved that. 

I also loved the commentary that went on in the chat during panels and events. I was used to sitting with my friends and whispering or texting each other occasionally. With Zoom, there is another layer of conversation that does not intrude on the primary event but can interact with it. I loved hearing, “Someone in the chat said…” or “An example of this was provided in the chat…” The audio/video was complemented by the text in the chat. It was a good outlet for that person who might be tempted to become the intrusive self-appointed panelist. 

Certainly, schools and colleges were changed by Zoom. While some may have liked learning online, getting back to “normal” school has been a primary goal. But might classes be streamed, especially large lecture-based classes in universities?  Since we can have remote and asynchronous learning days, does this mean school never needs to be canceled for snow or weather again? Could homebound students be connected to school resources through the computer?   

The fact that events could be recorded was also a benefit and one that we certainly could retain. Recently, I watched an interview from the Art Institute of Chicago that was streamed live during a time when I was unavailable. Since I was watching a recording, I couldn’t ask questions, but I am not sure I would have anyway. If not for the recording, I would have missed the event, but now I got to see it when it worked for my schedule. 

Accessing doctors and other medical resources by video was just starting to be offered before the pandemic. Now it has become a standard option for receiving services. For the same reason I noted above, telemedicine may not replace in-person examinations or consultations, but it certainly could help those who are too far away or for whom getting to the doctor is extremely challenging. And no one is sitting in a waiting room with sick people!  

I haven’t even begun to discuss how Zoom and its kin have facilitated the ability to work distantly for some. Zoom meetings, conferences, and calls are not perfect equivalents of the old normal, and they have both advantages and issues, but the option of working from home will be on the table far more than we ever imagined before the pandemic. 

Video engagement will now be an option for more and more of the activities that we used to assume had to be done in person. However, including disabled or distant participants, creating hybrid meeting structures, and navigating in-person events with both live and distant participants is going to take creativity and flexibility. 

We are not going back to the old normal. Our new routine will reflect the changes and innovations of the pandemic.  

Reading For Treasure: Hey, Educators! Read This!

Reading for Treasure is my list of articles (and other readings) that are worth your attention. Click here for an introduction!

While I was teaching, my colleagues and I would send articles to each other about things related to parts of our personal and professional lives. When I retired, I continued to find these reading gems (call them treasures), but I didn’t want to be that voice from beyond that keeps assigning busy working folks more things to read! That is one of the reasons I started posting Reading for Treasure. 

Yet, I’ve been finding wonderful things I want to send my friends who are still in the classroom. Some of them are for a broad educational audience and some are extremely narrow. I have lost track of the number of times a week (or a day) that I think to myself, “Oh! I know what I would do with that in the classroom!” So here are a few pieces of summer reading about education for anyone interested! 

KQED Mindshift shared an article reprinted from Equity-Centered Trauma-Informed Education that expresses one of my core teaching tenets: every student should feel that they are the teacher’s secret favorite. Teachers, please read this. New and pre-service teachers, you must read this!  “How Unconditional Positive Regard Can Help Students Feel Cared For”

KQED Mindshift also republished an NPR article titled,  “Colorado Becomes 1st State To Ban Legacy College Admissions.” When we discuss affirmative action, can we also discuss legacy admissions, elite sports, and other ways that the college admission game is not based on students’ merit and is rigged in favor of affluent mostly white students? One of the pandemic side effects has been this kind of shaking up of college admissions! 

Speaking of ways that affluent, usually white, students get advantages in education, can we talk about private education? The Atlantic’s cover makes the statement, “Private Schools are Indefensible.” This highly detailed and very powerful piece argues that private schools not only give students a leg up, but they also have a detrimental effect on everyone! The actual title of the article is “Private Schools Have Become Truly Obscene.” 

This past year was not easy for teachers, students, parents, or anyone connected to schools (or anyone in general). So the argument that many classrooms were only just getting by before schools closed feels harsh. However, the pandemic pushed these teetering teachers over the edge. Jennifer Gonzales, writing in Cult of Pedagogy, asks teachers not to hit the “easy button.” “No More Easy Button: A Suggested Approach to Post-Pandemic Teaching” makes highly specific recommendations about what school should look like next year. I would argue that Ms. Gonzales’ suggestions are just what school should look like – always. 

I love Math With Bad Drawings. If you haven’t looked at that blog, please do. It is magnificent. In this satiric entry, “Kafka Explains Math Education,” Ben Orlin is specifically talking about math education but his points apply to many (if not all) subject areas. He even uses real Kafka quotes!   

American Lit teachers, look at this! A new book takes a magical new look at The Great Gatsby. It focuses on Jordan Baker, who in this telling is a Vietnamese adoptee who was raised by a wealthy white woman. She is also queer! Read the review from Tor.com:  “A Greater Gatsby: The Chosen and the Beautiful by Nghi Vo”

I am currently reading Think Again by Adam Grant

Are We Still In Danger?

I am wearing a watch again. I haven’t worn my watch since the middle of February last year when it stopped working. Sometime in the fall of 2021, I got it fixed. I still didn’t wear it. 

I always carried a pen in my pocket. Since I was a high school English teacher, I was constantly writing. I continued this habit into retirement, but like the watch, I didn’t wear it when I no longer left the house. 

Since my second vaccine shot, I have adopted both habits again. Part of the reason is practical: I am going out more. I would prefer my own pen when I sign something. My Sunday school class moved from Zoom to meeting distantly in a park and checking my watch was far better than looking at my phone. 

But it is more than that. After fifteen months, I got a haircut. I went into a grocery store for the first time. I am starting to do things I did before COVID, albeit with much more trepidation and anxiety.  

Recently, when traveling to a nearby city to move my son, my family and I ate inside a restaurant. I felt anxious despite the fact that our table was far from all but one other table and there was a Plexiglas barrier separating us. I felt like I was doing something dangerous. 

Later, standing in line in a grocery store, I stood behind two older women whose masks were well below their noses. People were not distant, but our carts were almost six feet, right? I let them move ahead and tried to leave lots of space between us, which is difficult to do in a busy supermarket. 

On the drive home, after I filled up the car, I went into the gas station minimart and used the bathroom. I wore my KN95 mask as I rushed in and, as I was hurrying through my business, I thought, “I am not in danger here.” I slowed down. 

The mindset that going out could endanger my health and the wellbeing of those I love is overpowering. My worry about the welfare of my family whom I don’t see daily has been one of the greatest stressors of the pandemic. After my parents received their vaccination, my anxiety decreased significantly, especially when we learned it was safe to be inside with them! When my children, my wife, and I were vaccinated, I was surprised that my worries didn’t decrease as much as I thought they would. 

I want to let go of the heavy worries now that my entire family is vaccinated, but the habit has become well ingrained. I am concerned that we, as a country, are not yet ready to drop the precautions. I foresee more issues ahead. Is it too soon to let my guard down? Is that my anxiety speaking or am I just being prudent? Are we in danger here? 

I am not sure. The pandemic is not over simply because I have more freedom of movement. There are significant challenges here and abroad that could bring us right back to lockdown. 

But I am wearing a watch and pen again. Now, the CDC says I do not need to wear a mask much of the time and I am struggling with that. When I go into a building, I still wear a mask and I try to be quick. I am leery and timid at the same time I am excited and relieved. 

What will it take for the pandemic to feel over? What needs to happen so that I feel confident enough to take off the mask and linger in front of the card section at the store? After more than a year of sheltering, when will I feel like I no longer need to take special precautions? 

Not yet. 

We Are The Children’s Vaccine: Get Vaccinated!

While almost all people over the age of sixteen are eligible to get the COVID-19 vaccine for free, children will have to wait for safety studies to be completed. It is expected that the Pfizer vaccine may be approved for kids as young as twelve in the next month or two – or three or more. 

But what about the little ones? When will they be protected? The truth is we don’t know and it may not be soon. Some children have had significant complications from COVID and we are still figuring out how the variants might affect them.  How do we protect this vulnerable and precious population? 

The answer is that we bring down the infection rate by being vaccinated. We are their vaccine. 

Why should that matter to you? First, because you are a good person who wants to take care of those who are unable to protect themselves. Second, because it will help all of us get our world back to normal. Think of it this way: if kids are spreading COVID, which it appears is the case in the post-vaccination world, then keeping schools functioning is in danger. Should schools close, much of our economy closes, too. Your job and the people with whom you work might be significantly affected. Do you want to go back to the dark winter inside? 

Another reason to get vaccinated is to fight against variants of the virus. There are several mutant versions of COVID-19 and some of them appear to now be the dominant strain. These versions are far more contagious and can cause more harm – even to younger people. The more of us who are vaccinated, the less opportunity for this kind of mutation and the less chance one of these variants will attack the population that is least protected: children! 

Are you worried about side effects? The odds and consequences of NOT getting the vaccine are far more severe both to you and to the community than the issues associated with any vaccine. While there may be a very small group who are super sensitive to vaccines, most of us will have a sore arm and perhaps a day or two of mild discomfort. That’s preferable to a stay in the hospital and an appointment with a ventilator - and a small price to pay for the child next door, your co-worker’s kids, or grandkids and to fight against a bigger and badder bug being bred because people won’t get vaccinated. 

One of my favorite articles about the flu vaccine has a harsh headline: “Hey Asshole, the Flu Shot Isn’t About You.” The main gist of the article is that you, “’…get immunized to protect those who can’t protect themselves.’”

The article emphasizes the number of people who die each year from the flu. Similarly,  by getting vaccinated against COVID-19, you are helping to protect those who cannot yet be vaccinated! You are doing your part to reduce the chance that COVID will come knocking on your door, their door, or to someone you love. 

Getting an appointment to be vaccinated is increasingly more convenient. Many places are taking walk-ins. Call your public health department. Call your town, city, or village. You don’t need a computer to make an appointment; you just need the desire to protect yourself and the people around you. Questions? Not so sure? Call your doctor. Your doctor knows you and will be able to address your concerns. 

Getting the vaccine is like sharing your umbrella. It is a way to help the kids in your community, your friend’s children and grandchildren, and those who are not able to get the vaccine. The price is minimal and the payoff is priceless. Everyone benefits from your good deed. 

Go get vaccinated – now! 

Reading for Treasure: April

Reading for Treasure is my list of articles (and other readings) that are worth your attention. Click here for an introduction!

This photo essay is a celebration of so many good things! The New York Times headline doesn’t begin to describe the celebration of this wonderful piece: “Asian and Asian-American Photographers Show What Love Looks Like.” 

Why are COVID numbers going up when more and more people are being vaccinated? The Atlantic explores the ramifications of acting like one is vaccinated when one is not. The article, “Vaccine Cheat Days Are Adding Up” is a quick exploration of why we need to “‘Just hold on a little longer.’”

The title of my blog should make it clear that I am a huge Mr. Rogers fan. This wonderful little article from The Washington Post defies expectations when the author tells us about, “What happened when I showed vintage Mister Rogers to my 21st-century kids.” It reinforces our continuing need for all the wonderful qualities of Fred Rogers. 

Nonprofit Quarterly published a piece that was originally published on the author, Dax-Devlon Ross’s blog.   “A Letter to My White Male Friends of a Certain Age” asks us to think not only about how racism hurts us, as White people, but to engage with Blackness and step up and really fight it. It is a nuanced and detailed letter that I strongly recommend you read. 

Chicago Tribune reports that “the American Academy of Pediatrics released a statement this week affirming its commitment to protecting the health and well-being of LGBTQ young people and condemning legislation that does the opposite.” Specifically, the AAP opposes recent anti-trans legislation:  “Stop targeting transgender kids in youth sports, says American Academy of Pediatrics. Bravo.” 

Parenting never stops. No matter how old you are or your children’s stage of life, parenting is a lifetime commitment. As most (I really want to say all) teachers will tell you, some parents are far too involved in their children’s activities. When we rob our children of their independence and agency, especially for our own well-being, we stunt their development – at any age. This article from Fatherly, presents “7 Signs You're a Codependent Parent — And What to Do About It.”  

Finally, some good simple advice from Lifehacker; I never thought about the color of my child’s swimsuit or how it might help with their water safety. This article provides some simple commonsense recommendations: “Look at These Safety Color Charts Before You Buy Your Kids' Next Swimsuit”

I am currently reading Dark Matter by Blake Crouch

The Year Concludes: Looking Back at 2020 - Part 4

November started without the kids. This had been my life when I retired, but in March my son came home, then my daughter and her puppy in May. They stayed for more than 100 days and then left together for D.C. 

My children’s phone calls were a mainstay of my day. The boomerang of a full house turning empty wasn’t working for me. I love being with my children. I love being together – and that puppy is joyful! I missed them. 

My son was could look for a job anywhere. He was networking, taking seminars, and doing interviewing – and helping his sister. It was delightful that my children got along so well that they could live together –without their parents- for long stretches of time. I was overjoyed. I just wanted to be overjoyed together. 

At home, things continued as they had for months. I kept walking – just without a dog. I walked with my wife daily and usually took a second walk listening to podcasts. 

Since we were home all the time, the house was showing the strain: the front deadbolt wasn’t turning, the dishwasher died, the light switch in the bathroom cracked, we could no longer use the kids’ shower. 

We were reminded constantly of our fragility by the ever-rising COVID numbers and the parade of passings. It felt like condolences were one of the few things we had in plenty. 

Although the election was at the beginning of November, the discussion about the results dragged on. There were constant cries of fraud without any evidence. I worried that those trying to create alternative election results would bend reality. 

My Sunday Confirmation Class was a port in this storm. My co-teacher and I had challenging conversations with our students about everything that was going on. The kids were eager to wrestle with issues, values, ideas, and especially politics. We had a guest speaker and began to take virtual field trips. 

Thanksgiving was stressful. The kids planned to return and everyone would quarantine and test. The kids isolated in DC, we did the same in Deerfield, and my folks stayed in their home, but everyone had exceptions: doctor appointments, errands of mercy, physical therapy. Beyond the usual Thanksgiving stress, we worried about testing and contagion. 

Since it was just the two of us at home, cleaning the basement moved quickly. I finally got a call from the Illinois Department of Employment Security and filed a police report, contacted the Social Security Administration, the IRS, and changed all of my passwords. It was work to ensure the fraudsters did not gain access to my digital life. 

The election was often a focus. I watched What the Constitution Means To Me. Yet, the controversy dragged on. The president would not concede despite the clear evidence he had lost. It felt like a losing team refusing to shake the winners’ hands at the end of a game. 

We had our last Loyola classes. Our teacher was in Hawaii! We learned with this group for a year and a half, so it was sad to end on Zoom. We are hoping for a reunion when it is safe. I stayed connected to the activities and people at Deerfield High School. I saw a beautiful online choral festival concert, a discussion of the fall play, and a spectacular video holiday extravaganza. 

I was extremely anxious about a dental cleaning. I have rarely been so nervous about anything. Increasingly, I worried that even having six of us together for Thanksgiving was too dangerous. We saw friends on Zoom or FaceTime since the temperatures dropped. 

Friends of many years picked up and moved to Michigan. We attended an online library program with Ibrim Kendi. I sent the woman who cuts my hair a check since I was not going to her shop. I worked hard to stay in touch with friends, family, former colleagues, and others. 

The house was quiet, calm, and very clean, but we were eager for the kids’ return They shipped stuff ahead. Days before they got on the road, my son’s computer died. We talked about backing up and data recovery. 

Daylight saving time gave us a nice extra hour of sleep. We changed all the batteries in the smoke detectors and things were beeping for a week! My wife was feeling much more like herself and we took longer walks despite the cold. 

Finally, the kids returned. I wore a mask when I picked up my rental car and didn’t realize it was a smoking car. It smelled horrible. It was only a few hours to South Bend. It was incredible to have everyone together again. 

Two former students reconnected out of nowhere: surprise blessings. My Confirmation class took a virtual field trip to the Unitarian Church and still wanted to talk about politics. I continued my book clubs, played games with the kids in the evening, and got way too excited about virtual backgrounds on Zoom. 

We had a family discussion via Zoom about Thanksgiving. We defined what were and were not acceptable risks. My son and I were tested at our doctor’s office. My wife and daughter waited in a five-hour line at the Department of Health and their results didn’t arrive until days after Thanksgiving! My folks were tested, too. Great to be negative! 

We slipped into the old routine made new by the weather. Walking the dog was now a colder endeavor, but just as joyous. My son started interviewing for jobs and was getting second, third, and fourth interviews! I organized our annual meeting for our homeowners association. We picked up food from restaurants in Evanston and walked around town. The dog had his own playdates. 

I found a way to let my folks see Zoom calls on their large TV instead of just on their computers, but I couldn’t do it distantly. As Thanksgiving approached, my anxiety grew. Planning the Thanksgiving menu was complicated. We put ingredients on our Instacart orders, got things online, and did our best to prepare distantly. 

I watched Star Trek: Voyager during my morning workouts and Star Trek: Discovery as it was released. These shows were so comforting as the world became increasingly frightening. 

Thanksgiving arrived! My daughter cooked and we assisted. We awkwardly wore masks when we were not eating. It was wonderful to be together. We hadn’t shared a meal this way in months. While we were anxious about COVID, being together was happy and healing. The next day, I went to my parents’ house and fixed all their tech issues. 

In addition to her regular job, my daughter organized a conference on teleheath with her health policy society. The kids and I played Settlers of Catan in the evenings. I continued to tutor, teach Sunday school, and go to online events. I arranged for another distant field trip with a church in Chicago and a Buddhist temple in Michigan. 

My daughter cooked and baked and everything was delicious! I washed lots of dishes! My son’s new computer arrived and he vowed to back up more often. We had another Zoom call with the DHS retirees and created a retiree directory. The dog needed a vet visit for tummy issues. 

For Hanukah, we got my parents virtual tickets to see some music shows. On the first night of Hanukah, all of us visited the Botanic Gardens for a light show. It was great to be together, distantly and outdoors. My wife could now walk through the displays without pain. 

The weather varied from quite cold to warm enough to eat outdoors. My daughter took some time off. We made it vacation-like by ordering in brunch and bringing in a few more dinners. Friends dropped off cookies and latkes, which were special and sweet. We sent notes, gifts, and thank yous. We drove through a neighborhood in Chicago famous for Christmas light decorations. 

Holiday food flooded the fridge. The dog preferred the TV remote. My wife organized a gift drive through the congregation. We had a mountain of presents in our yard! The kids watched West Wing. 

My son signed up for webinars, seminars, and classes as he interviewed for jobs. He made lists of things for an apartment. We hiked in the woods, learned to play Ticket to Ride, and dressed warmly. Our daughter made plans to go back to DC in January. The new dishwasher finally arrived! I started planning the congregation’s twentieth anniversary instead of washing dishes. 

The weather was still in the 20s and sometimes up into the 50s at the end of December, so we met my parents for outdoor walks. We thought that meant winter would be mild; we were wrong! My wife took the family to Rogers Park for a tour of her old neighborhood and stories of her childhood. One the way home, we went through Skokie past my childhood home.

We were Zooming for everything: conversations with friends, Shabbat services, funerals, shivas, and even another reunion of my college science fiction club! I helped a congregation in Michigan discuss renaming. We traveled further from home to try new restaurants. The kids put my daughter’s game console on our TV and played video games together. My wife bonded with the dog by feeding him salmon. My daughter helped her brother with his resume. 

Healthcare folks were getting the vaccine, but I was still very anxious. The COVID numbers were up and yet we saw photos of people traveling. How could they do that? We sent money to our snowplow service because there hadn’t been any snow– until December 29th. 

I was walking the dog when it started snowing. The dog loved it! He kept going outside to catch snowflakes and roll! Snow became a mainstay of his diet. 

My daughter’s work did not let up. Holidays or not, she worked ten-hour days or longer. It was good she was home and we could help her make all the pieces fit. 

As 2020 ended, we were together. I tried not to think about how soon we would be separated. The year ended unceremoniously, but we were healthy, happy, and home. 

The Pandemic’s Silver Summer: Looking Back at 2020 – Part 3

The pandemic closed everything and turned us into homebodies, but the summer had a different flavor: our children were home! Our daughter, Quinn’s arrival on Memorial Day weekend changed everything. It had been decades since our house was this full. The puppy was delightful. Most of all, we were together.

Quinn’s childhood room had been transformed into an office without a bed. So the little guestroom became her base of operations. Quinn didn’t mind the different bedroom, however, she missed her apartment in DC and living an independent life. Not an easy transition for an adult in her twenties. 

It was getting warmer. My daughter’s bedroom needed some fans to keep it cool. But we could gather outside. We had friends on our patio, meals on my parents’ porch, and lots of outdoor activity, especially walks. 

At the same time, George Floyd was killed in Minnesota and a nationwide examination of racial justice reignited.  I joined an online racial justice discussion group facilitated by a friend and a Facebook discussion group called Justice in June. We donated to a long group of charities that both helped people protesting and worked to dismantle systemic racism. 

Yet deaths from both pandemics kept coming. Several Deerfield High School retirees passed away. My parents lost dear friends. There were several devastating and sudden deaths of people in their fifties and sixties. And a parade of parent losses. The summer was marked by Zoom funerals, condolence cards, and tribute contributions. A virtual shiva cannot replace the real thing. Comforting the bereaved became a much more challenging and important thing to do. 

At home, Pippin, my daughter’s dog, was the center of our universe. We walked him three or more times a day. He loved having a backyard and went in and outside constantly. The dog’s presence brought more joy and happiness than I ever anticipated. He was a saving grace while my daughter had been alone, and they brought that warmth back here. 

We were always walking. We walked with friends and their dogs. We went to forest preserves. We played in the fields next door at the high school. We chased and ran and threw balls and picked up lots of poop. 

Walking a dog opened doors we didn’t know existed. We met other neighborhood dogs and their owners. The dogs had impromptu wrestling sessions and scheduled playdates. Neighbors were drawn to us because we were walking a friendly and beautiful animal. Pippin loved other dogs, neighbor’s children, and everyone he met. We shared his popularity. 

We helped with his maintenance. We took him to a dog wash attached to a car wash. He was neutered and in a cone for several weeks. My daughter worked hard training him; he learned to give a high five, tolerate ear cleanings, and sit at intersections. He became an integral part of our family. Putting him at bed at night was a family ritual. 

All that walking was more than my wife could handle. She was still struggling with her back. We met with two new surgeons. She had a CAT scan, which showed her back was the same as before surgery in February! Finally, we met with a doctor at Northwestern downtown and planned for a second surgery at the end of July. 

My son was conducting informational interviews every day. He was learning to network and teaching himself about selling sports tickets. When he wasn’t on the phone, listening to a podcast, or reading about sports business, he was working out. 

One of the nicest aspects of the summer was that, after each phone conversation, my son would come from his room to mine and discuss his call. I got a view into his job search that I would never have had if he were far away. 

I was staying in touch with friends, family, former students, and colleagues. I sent emails, texts, called and met people for walks and on the patio. I worked hard to stay connected. 

My friends from school were struggling with online learning and were relieved when school ended. Things were messy; teachers and students struggled to balance all their competing needs. I attended online concerts and performances. I saw the school’s online commencement and then went to the drive-through graduation in the parking lot. It was nice to see kids and share in their undiminished joy. While it lacked the pomp of the regular graduation, it was a welcome chance to see people in person for a positive purpose.

The school was working hard to end the year and plan for the upcoming fall. There were changes in roles, courses, and, of course, how classes were taught. Almost every day, someone said to me, “Aren’t you glad you retired when you did?” Yes, but I was feeling bad for my friends still in the classroom and did whatever I could to support them. 

I took photos of the kids, the dog, my parents, and our friends. Like this post, I worked hard to document this strange time. I hope it is an unusual time and not something we experience again. 

I was reading, especially books for my book groups, but I had far less time to just sit and read. We had three cars, but we didn’t go anywhere. Students and friends from long ago reconnected. We attended online weddings. The high school retirees met on Zoom. My Sunday school students celebrated our Confirmation service online. I started tutoring a young man for his bar mitzvah. 

Most of our congregational activities were online. We had our annual meeting, a trivia night, and regular Shabbat services on Zoom. People attended from all over the country. Yet, we wanted to see each other face-to-face or mask-to-mask as was becoming the norm. So we created an outdoor and distanced tailgate party at a train station parking lot. People brought outdoor chairs, stayed six feet apart, and had a meal together. It was delightful to be together. 

Some folks felt confined and were out and about far more than they would admit. My wife went to a gathering of friends and was shocked that it was not distanced and she was the only one masked. We talked about how we should handle these kinds of awkward, uncomfortable, and dangerous situations. 

We spent a lot of time planning dinners. We had wine and cheese happy hours. We ordered from restaurants all over. We ate ice cream! We mastered Instacart, even if ordering was sometimes a laborious group project. We tried other grocery services, but their websites were problematic. We ordered from Jewel and couldn’t change an item when there was an error. We canceled that order and remade it – but both orders showed up! We never had more ice cream in our house then after this ginormous double order! 

All of this eating meant that our dishwasher was working overtime. It died eventually and I became our dishwasher for weeks until we got a new one. 

My daughter had not set a date for her return to D.C. At one point, it looked like she was going to be ordered to return to her office, but as the election approached, those plans were thankfully scraped. She decided to stay through July to help after her mother’s surgery.

Houses continued to be sold in our neighborhood. Some of the folks moving in were families of my students during my last year of teaching. Some were my former students moving in with their spouses and children! 

Two former students married each other and we participated in their outdoor wedding shower – and it rained! A shower in a shower! Father’s Day was so hot that our celebration was cut short. The kids and I took the pup for walks along the lake.

The country seems to be struggling to stay safe. People were reluctant to take proper precautions. The COVID numbers were going up and more people were becoming ill, going to the hospital, or dying! 

It was hot outside. We were cleaning the basement, vacuuming, dusting, and doing laundry. My wife watched all the new TV series. She was in constant contact with a long list of people, many of whom would drop by for distanced visits on our patio. 

Since we didn’t want to linger in front of the greeting card section of a store, I started making my own, but we ordered a package of condolence cards. 

It became clear that our daughter was going to make regular trips between D.C. and Chicago. Although her ten-year-old Prius was in good shape, it lacked the safety features of newer cars. So we shopped for a replacement. By the end of the summer, she was driving a car that was as safe as any on the road: another red Prius! 

Going to get my car’s emissions checked felt normal, but my medical visits felt frightening. There were fewer sports on TV, but my family was still watching the Cubs. I no longer wore a watch. Taking a single journey in the car was unusual. Taking more than one was outrageous. We watched Hamilton on TV! We huddled in the basement during a big summer storm. We played Wingspan! 

At the end of July, my wife had her second back surgery. We went downtown to Northwestern and checked in around 5am. They took her and left me in the waiting room. I couldn’t stay with her or go to her room; I walked to the lake and saw the sunrise. She called to say that they couldn’t find her COVID test! Instead of morning surgery, she ended up in the afternoon; instead of a one-hour procedure, it took three hours! Instead of going home, she spent a night in the hospital. I had a positive conversation with the surgeon, but I went home alone.

I returned to the hospital the next day and brought her home – along with pizzas from Uno’s! It was quickly clear early that this surgery went much better than one in February. She started taking short walks. She joined Quinn on the morning dog walks. We had follow-up visits with the surgeon. She was doing wonderfully! It also helped that she had three nurses helping her recover. By the end of the summer, my wife was walking pain-free! 

The World Science Fiction Convention was held virtually from Wellington, New Zealand. Our plans to get out of the Chicago winter vanished and we canceled our trip. I was able to get a refund for our flights. My wife hoped we could take a warm-weather winter retreat. I hoped she was right. She wasn’t. I went to a gala event for a local theatre and got to Zoom with Gates McFadden, Dr. Crusher from Star Trek: The Next Generation! 

As September approached, our friends at Deerfield High School prepared for remote classes. I called all my Confirmation Class families to talk about the coming Sunday School year. 

High Holidays were approaching and the rabbi asked if the kids would like to read. All the readings were recorded, so the three of us dressed up and read for the camera. 

My son got his flu shot. My daughter promised to get hers when she got back. We went to a forest area and had a lovely picnic before their departure. I had to stay in the moment and enjoy being together rather than worry about what the future held. I didn’t want to miss my kids until they were actually away. 

They shipped some things to D.C. and stuffed the new car. Neighbors came over to wish the kids (and the dog) a good journey and brought gifts, drawings, and even cheese for the dog! Then, on a rainy Saturday morning, they drove east. My daughter had been home for 105 days! They drove to Pittsburgh and visited Quinn’s best friend before getting back to D.C. on the Sunday before Labor Day. And the toilet in her apartment was broken when they arrived! 

Our dear friends’ daughter was married on the same day. We watched the wedding online. The house was quiet and, soon, extremely clean. We took longer walks. My wife went to physical therapy and eventually started yoga! In October, she had the last surgeon check-up via telehealth. She was finally feeling better! 

Sunday School began at a nearby park. We stayed distanced, wore masks, and sat in outdoor chairs. It was nice to be in the same space with the students. The weather cooperated. Class with masks is a challenge. Kids struggled to speak up, so I made mini-megaphones so our soft speakers could be heard.  

Signs of COVID were all around. Our niece got it. Several neighbors got it. It wasn’t just out there. 

We attended a distanced gathering of my former department. It was great to see people and hear about school. They were working harder than ever. Friends had babies and we shared their joy by sending gifts. We went to our Loyola class and another classmate got COVID! My daughter struggled to register her new car in DC.

High Holidays arrived and Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg died moments before the first service. Fortunately, services were wonderful and, despite being distanced, connected us to our congregation and the larger Jewish world. We even had Zoom gatherings after each service. I played schmooze director. 

Missing the kids was no longer a punch in the gut but was still a strong pull. They had not lived together recently except on vacations. They were doing well and helping each other. We talked daily. I cared about the substance of the conversations, but just hearing their voices or seeing their faces was the important part. 

Summer turned to fall, but the weather was still delightful. We moved toward the election and worried about the country and the appalling things that people said and did. We learned some terrible truths about many people. It was another kind of loss. 

We went to the school’s outstanding fall plays! My wife got her hair cut, but I would not. We continued to walk the neighborhood and enjoyed other people’s dogs. We had dinner outside with my parents. I continued to be their technical support. 

We cleaned the basement and discovered old documents and scanned them. We got into a routine of monthly contributions to charities. We always gave to several food banks as well as groups that helped with critical services or worked for social justice. 

Friends of many years moved from the neighborhood. We had lovely dinners with neighbors and friends, even as we dressed more warmly. Sunday School in the park became cooler and we eventually moved to Zoom. 

I reached out to people and encouraged them to vote. The president and much of his circle got COVID! It didn’t seem to matter. My cousin became a grandmother for the third time. We hadn’t seen her kids during the entire pregnancy! We cut down a dying tree in our backyard. I created our holiday card. I went to a friend’s barbershop concert online! 

We got our mail-in ballots. I researched judges and other offices. The first presidential debate was not presidential at all! It was shocking and awful! 

October 19 was our 500th day of retirement. I celebrated by dropping off our ballots at the township center. I attended a virtual Star Trek campaign fundraising event. I learned that Stacy Abrams is an avid and very knowledgeable fan!  Mayor Pete is also a Trekker, and Andrew Yang was no Trek slouch! 

I listened to a friend’s concert in Tel Aviv, went to an outdoor distance Sukkot service, and attended too many online shivas. We got our flu shots. Our neighbor’s cars were robbed in their driveway. The school put fake coyotes in the fields that scared away geese and freaked out neighbors. The congregation did another distanced tailgate party; it was much chillier than the first. The wonderful DHS Friends of the Arts hosted Facebook live showoff showcases that let us see what kids and teachers were doing. 

My daughter sent photos of the dog (and her brother) in D.C. We longed to be closer to them. Our son started to pursue job possibilities and continued to have several information interviews each day. The coming election contributed to our daughter’s intense workload! 

I read book after book, listened to podcasts on my solo walks, and watched TV shows as I worked out in the morning. We took walks in forest preserves around Lake County.

Like thousands of others, I got a letter from the Illinois Department of Employment Security saying I had applied for unemployment insurance. I had not! So I battled identity theft.  

We celebrated my wife’s birthday with food from all over the area. The kids called. I made a card. A few days later, we had a neighborhood-wide Halloween celebration. More children came to our house than ever. We put candy on a table at the end of our driveway and stood at a distance. Kids and their parents paraded down the streets. It was so nice to see everyone, even if it was through a mask and far away. 

As we moved toward November, the election, and the end of the year, we still savored the summer. We were so grateful for a summer with our children, even in the shadow of COVID. Would they come home again? What would the end of the year hold? Our worries warred with our hopes.