When friends or family inquire, I describe my daughter as a raging introvert who had senioritus anyway, and I assure them that she is actually thriving with all this time at home. It is true. We are lucky.
I know that an extroverted teenage girl unmoored from the physical presence of her friends for this long would be a larger challenge. My good friend's daughter had JUST made the lacrosse team at her school as an inexperienced walk-on. She was so looking forward to this new-for-her sport. She doesn't know it yet, but I'm sending her a microgreens starter kit as my way of trying to mitigate her pain, even as I know her losses are too huge to heal with simple gestures. But at least she has three more years of high school to hone her skills and grow her friendships face to face.
Our introvert began her happy homestand by deep cleaning the bathroom she shares with her brother and organizing her bedroom. Like an expectant mama bird, she first prepared her nest. A garbage bag of near-empty lotions, shampoos and loose packaging emerged from this effort, along with an extra load of laundry. After the settling-in, and in her own time, she began communicating with teachers, continuing with her research paper, completing assignments or attending online class meetings as they started to appear on her calendar. She’s also working out, daily.
A dress without an occasion now hangs on her closet door. She is likely not as heartbroken as many about the cancellation of senior rituals, but I know it still must ache deep down. Even with promises of an eventual send-off that is fitting of their unique program. Even with all day kitty comfort and perfect springtime weather in which to bask. Even though she is introverting to her heart's content, daily.
Tuesday, March 31, 2020
Monday, March 30, 2020
Finding Solace
Gardening is my salvation right now, in the time of Covid. Watching each of my old friends in the backyard return from a winter’s sleep is both gratifying and comforting. Oh yeah, I remember you! Where are those Emperor Tulips I replenished last Fall? Aha, there you are! Now what is THAT?! are just some of the unspoken words in my brain as I survey the perimeter for the first time each new day. Turns out I have Bee Balm going rogue in three locations. But my Bobo Hydrangeas are late sleepers, even as the Limelight ones are bursting with fresh green leaf buds already.
Last weekend I transferred my hybrid tomato varieties from starter trays to three inch peat cups. They responded well, even when I didn’t manage to get all of the deepest roots out of the narrow bottom of each pocket. This weekend I attempted my Brandywine Pinks, which are heirlooms, and they are not responding quite as well. In fact, I’m purposely stalling before I head to the front porch enclosure to check on them, for fear the majority will still be flopped sideways in exasperation with my clumsy efforts. Never mind the jalapeños that have failed to sprout at all in two attempts. Peppers are notoriously difficult, I’m told.
The school community garden is coming along, thanks to a hardworking weekly volunteer who brought along his girlfriend this weekend, and thanks as always to the tireless PTA parent who has taken this garden on as her pet project for the six years that her two girls span at our school. We’ve prepared some areas that didn’t get planted at all last year, and we’re extending the flower bed along the front fence line. On our most recent visit we spent the entire two hours weeding between rows and along the opposite fence line. It’s a huge garden to plant and maintain. What were those Girl Scouts of 2010 thinking?!
In the end, I would be floundering without my gardening to ground me. Like teaching, or parenting, or so many other life pursuits, there is always more that could be done. It helps to be process-oriented and very, very patient.
Last weekend I transferred my hybrid tomato varieties from starter trays to three inch peat cups. They responded well, even when I didn’t manage to get all of the deepest roots out of the narrow bottom of each pocket. This weekend I attempted my Brandywine Pinks, which are heirlooms, and they are not responding quite as well. In fact, I’m purposely stalling before I head to the front porch enclosure to check on them, for fear the majority will still be flopped sideways in exasperation with my clumsy efforts. Never mind the jalapeños that have failed to sprout at all in two attempts. Peppers are notoriously difficult, I’m told.
The school community garden is coming along, thanks to a hardworking weekly volunteer who brought along his girlfriend this weekend, and thanks as always to the tireless PTA parent who has taken this garden on as her pet project for the six years that her two girls span at our school. We’ve prepared some areas that didn’t get planted at all last year, and we’re extending the flower bed along the front fence line. On our most recent visit we spent the entire two hours weeding between rows and along the opposite fence line. It’s a huge garden to plant and maintain. What were those Girl Scouts of 2010 thinking?!
In the end, I would be floundering without my gardening to ground me. Like teaching, or parenting, or so many other life pursuits, there is always more that could be done. It helps to be process-oriented and very, very patient.
Sunday, March 29, 2020
Summer Dreaming
For dinner we enjoyed lightly floured, pan fried ocean perch. Ocean perch is larger than its fresh water cousin with which we are more familiar. Eating perch of any kind always brings back wonderful memories of family gatherings in Port Dover, Ontario at the Erie Beach Hotel - famous for its flash fried Lake Erie perch. These tender, flakey whitefish filets go perfectly with beer and Canadian cousins in the summer.
The cool breeze we’ve invited in through slightly raised windows feels more like May than end of March. What’s missing is the distant hum of traffic on this almost eerily quiet Sunday evening. It’s small town quiet out there. Like my childhood backyard, only not as pitch dark. Life is simpler now, too, of necessity. Slowing it all down has been comforting in the face of real worry. Worry about my older relatives, worry about my older friends and colleagues, worry for all the good people out there who are having a much tougher time than I am.
The promise of summer, and a July 4th like no other, keeps me going. The neighborhood picnic and parade, followed by the annual pig roast... baseball games at Nationals Park... maybe even a road trip back to Ontario for some of that Lake Erie perch with my cousins.
The cool breeze we’ve invited in through slightly raised windows feels more like May than end of March. What’s missing is the distant hum of traffic on this almost eerily quiet Sunday evening. It’s small town quiet out there. Like my childhood backyard, only not as pitch dark. Life is simpler now, too, of necessity. Slowing it all down has been comforting in the face of real worry. Worry about my older relatives, worry about my older friends and colleagues, worry for all the good people out there who are having a much tougher time than I am.
The promise of summer, and a July 4th like no other, keeps me going. The neighborhood picnic and parade, followed by the annual pig roast... baseball games at Nationals Park... maybe even a road trip back to Ontario for some of that Lake Erie perch with my cousins.
Saturday, March 28, 2020
Puzzled
We are having a challenge with a puzzle that my husband started a week or more ago. Most of the edge pieces are assembled, which is how we usually begin a new puzzle, but little else has been accomplished.
This morning I sat down with it for about thirty minutes and did not make my usual headway. While he’s ready to box it back up, I suggested moving it to the dining room table and starting another one here in the family room, where he usually puzzles.
I’ve never not completed a puzzle that we’ve unboxed. Not here, not in my childhood home, and certainly not now, when we’ve got easily another month of time at home. Alright, Starry Night! It’s you against me. And I’m not stopping until you are complete. Mark my words.
Here’s hoping that blue is still my favorite color when this is all over.
This morning I sat down with it for about thirty minutes and did not make my usual headway. While he’s ready to box it back up, I suggested moving it to the dining room table and starting another one here in the family room, where he usually puzzles.
I’ve never not completed a puzzle that we’ve unboxed. Not here, not in my childhood home, and certainly not now, when we’ve got easily another month of time at home. Alright, Starry Night! It’s you against me. And I’m not stopping until you are complete. Mark my words.
Here’s hoping that blue is still my favorite color when this is all over.
Friday, March 27, 2020
Breaking Boundaries
Last week I used email to reach out to school families, but I rarely heard back. Several days ago we were given the code *67 to use for making phone calls to parents from our personal or home phones in order to preserve our privacy. But since then I am realizing that not everyone returns calls that have no ID or phone number attached to them. That realization has led me to be a little less protective of my privacy, under our changing circumstances.
In the past, school was school and home was home. I did my best to keep the two realms of my life separate from each other. There was a certain balance to my day that I did not want to upset by bringing too much home. Better to just stay late on occasion. But now I find myself checking a colleague's Canvas page at 11:00pm because he's in the ICU with a family member and he has to work when he's got the opportunity. As he troubleshoots, I text my feedback. We brainstorm, and we problem solve. Or it's 5:00pm and I'm texting with a mother who works all day and can't get back to me until after work hours. Or I'm relaying MiFi troubleshooting tips to a student via his mother on her lunch break.
At first this straining of the my heretofore strict boundaries was very stress-inducing. But now I realize that working this way, from home and in the era of Covid 19, has to be more fluid if it is to be worthwhile. Slowly I've adjusted to having several video conferences one day and none the next. If I need to stop working to help my son get some of his work going, I stop and help him. If the Randolph PTA needs volunteers to help with outdoor Food Pantry distribution on Friday afternoons, I step up. When an email asks for help in printing and distributing flyers for the Arlington Community Coalition in an effort to reach elderly neighbors and shut-ins, that's what I do.
There is no rhythm to my days anymore. Just trial and error. Ebb and flow. The lines between home and work are blurry, but my vision is getting clearer.
In the past, school was school and home was home. I did my best to keep the two realms of my life separate from each other. There was a certain balance to my day that I did not want to upset by bringing too much home. Better to just stay late on occasion. But now I find myself checking a colleague's Canvas page at 11:00pm because he's in the ICU with a family member and he has to work when he's got the opportunity. As he troubleshoots, I text my feedback. We brainstorm, and we problem solve. Or it's 5:00pm and I'm texting with a mother who works all day and can't get back to me until after work hours. Or I'm relaying MiFi troubleshooting tips to a student via his mother on her lunch break.
At first this straining of the my heretofore strict boundaries was very stress-inducing. But now I realize that working this way, from home and in the era of Covid 19, has to be more fluid if it is to be worthwhile. Slowly I've adjusted to having several video conferences one day and none the next. If I need to stop working to help my son get some of his work going, I stop and help him. If the Randolph PTA needs volunteers to help with outdoor Food Pantry distribution on Friday afternoons, I step up. When an email asks for help in printing and distributing flyers for the Arlington Community Coalition in an effort to reach elderly neighbors and shut-ins, that's what I do.
There is no rhythm to my days anymore. Just trial and error. Ebb and flow. The lines between home and work are blurry, but my vision is getting clearer.
Thursday, March 26, 2020
The Secret Garden Getaway
Today before opening a single email, I snuck away to one of my happy places: Merrifield Garden Center. My neighbor went, too.
As we strolled among the hellebores and huchera, making plans for front porch pots, the wax begonias several aisles over caught our eye. Shades of screaming yellow and tantilizing tangerine will be perfect with my neighbor's newly painted front door, a turquoise color her husband still hates. But that's okay because they are moving soon.
Next we wandered through the hoards of azaleas and rhododendrens, eventually locating my favorite Coral Bell pinks and Hershey reds. We hemmed and hawed over a suitable replacement for the empty space that will be left in my neighbor's front corner when I adopt her prized gardenia. A laurel, perhaps? Or should we play it safe with another azelea?
Finally some mouse ear mini-hostas and a couple of creeping geraniums to fill in areas of her yard that still "need something". Then we were done. Between us we brought home several azaleas, two rolls of sod, four perennials, six annuals and considerable peace of mind. Because in the midst of packing and staging and staving off a novel virus, gardens must go on.
As we strolled among the hellebores and huchera, making plans for front porch pots, the wax begonias several aisles over caught our eye. Shades of screaming yellow and tantilizing tangerine will be perfect with my neighbor's newly painted front door, a turquoise color her husband still hates. But that's okay because they are moving soon.
Next we wandered through the hoards of azaleas and rhododendrens, eventually locating my favorite Coral Bell pinks and Hershey reds. We hemmed and hawed over a suitable replacement for the empty space that will be left in my neighbor's front corner when I adopt her prized gardenia. A laurel, perhaps? Or should we play it safe with another azelea?
Finally some mouse ear mini-hostas and a couple of creeping geraniums to fill in areas of her yard that still "need something". Then we were done. Between us we brought home several azaleas, two rolls of sod, four perennials, six annuals and considerable peace of mind. Because in the midst of packing and staging and staving off a novel virus, gardens must go on.
Wednesday, March 25, 2020
Technology Truce
Today I participated in three varieties of virtual engagement: WebEx, Zoom and MS Teams. This is something I never would have even considered trying a month ago. Technology, for me, is a means to an end. Furthermore, as previously noted on March 2, 2020, technology is not my friend. Rather, we coexist uneasily. And yet, I just asked my daughter’s help in linking back to my earlier post about technology. Hmmm... I did?!
In our school district we did not wait for our central office staff to train us properly. We did not call the first week Unused Snow Days and the second week Spring Break. We did not wait for our union to work out particulars about equitable access with VDOE. (There is no union.) Instead, we took what we had in place, and we all dove in to the morass of online learning. That learning goes both ways, make no mistake. Teachers are Zooming to share technology hacks and ask questions about how to better connect with their students through different platforms, using different apps.. Are we reaching all students? Not yet.
In this brave new world of online teaching and learning we are suddenly leaders, and our administrators and school board are proud of what we are doing. Do I have it all figured out? Not at all. Am I learning as I go? Yes I am. Do I now depend on the support of my colleagues and the wonder of technology every single day of my workweek no matter what I am doing? Why yes. Yes I do. To my daughter: thanks for the assist. Ever onward!
In our school district we did not wait for our central office staff to train us properly. We did not call the first week Unused Snow Days and the second week Spring Break. We did not wait for our union to work out particulars about equitable access with VDOE. (There is no union.) Instead, we took what we had in place, and we all dove in to the morass of online learning. That learning goes both ways, make no mistake. Teachers are Zooming to share technology hacks and ask questions about how to better connect with their students through different platforms, using different apps.. Are we reaching all students? Not yet.
In this brave new world of online teaching and learning we are suddenly leaders, and our administrators and school board are proud of what we are doing. Do I have it all figured out? Not at all. Am I learning as I go? Yes I am. Do I now depend on the support of my colleagues and the wonder of technology every single day of my workweek no matter what I am doing? Why yes. Yes I do. To my daughter: thanks for the assist. Ever onward!
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