Teaching and Learning disruptions and opportunities

Me, sitting at my computer in the basement. This is where I'll be to teach for the rest of the semester.

Coe made the decision to go to online teaching for the rest of the semester rather late in the game.

It was after 5pm on March 18 that we were informed via email that students would not come back to campus, and that we needed to prepare for online teaching.

It seemed to me that the administration (at least the senior staff, who made the decision) really did not want this to happen. In his email to the campus when we were first told we'd just have a "extended Spring Break," and then come back to classes on March 30, our president said

"Coe will do everything possible to preserve our educational program—as well as the many activities scheduled for the remainder of the term—as long as the situation enables us to do so safely according to health officials."

By March 18, it was clear that it would not be safe to bring together 1300 students, most of whom traveled somewhere during break. So Coe shifted to online instruction for the rest of the term. You can find out more about the timeline of that move on my colleague Lisa's blog here , here, and here.

Luckily, we had an extra week of "extended spring break" to prepare. That's been this week for me, and I'm needing every second of the time!

Today, I worked on my 100-level writing class, trying to figure out what they'd be doing for the next 4 1/2 weeks.

Before the pandemic, we had a big service-learning project scheduled in the community for the last 5 weeks. We were going to spend time with some African immigrants who are learning ESL in a church a block from Coe, and write profiles of them. The plan was to create a book with profile essays and photographs, kind of like this one!

However, that's obviously not possible anymore. The ESL classes have been suspended.

So instead, I have decided that the students are going to write about life during a national crisis!

In fact, the project is called "Journal of a Plague Year." Yes, kind of like this blog.

We'll prepare by reading other narrative nonfiction pieces about life during crises: one about the 1918 Influenza pandemic, a few pieces about the Dust Bowl (including a chapter or two from The Worst Hard Time by Timothy Egan), and a memoir essay about the Tulsa Race Riots.

We'll discuss what makes these pieces different than straight history (strong sense of "story," focus on ordinary people's experiences, dramatization of events, etc.), and all the while, I'll be having the students write journal entries about their experiences during this pandemic.

At the end, each student will create 2 "blog posts" --with photos, links, etc. based on 2 or more of their journal entries.

But how will we be able to maintain that personal educational touch, that active learning experience--so valued at a small liberal arts college--while teaching online?

Once we get started (that class meets Tuesday, March 31), I'll let you know how I interact with the students (via email, discussion board, and Zoom) and whether I'm able to create a satisfying and inspiring learning environment in an online class.

Alarming news, March 20-27

Three alarming bits of news that I came across this week.

This map, in the NYTimes Friday, shocked me. It shows where cases of Covid-19* had showed up in the U.S. as of March 20.

Look at all the red dots! How did the virus--that tiny virus that has no legs of its own--how did it it make its way into all these counties throughout the whole United States? OK, I can see New York City and Atlanta and Seattle. But how did it get to the middle of freaking South Dakota?

The virus can only go where we go--so I guess this map also shows how interconnected we are in this country. We aren't far from one another, we are always touching one another in some way. Good, mostly, but in this case, very very bad.

* I've noticed that the NYTimes has started styling the disease as Covid-19 rather than COVID-19. Sorry, I'm geeky like that.

This is the site called ncov2019.live. It aggregates data to list all the Covid-19 cases around the world. It lists cases, deaths, and recoveries. It gets updated constantly.

OK, why do I have this site on my phone's browser, just waiting for me to look at it oh, several times a day? I am not sure.

But this week, it became not just creepy, but also alarming. Everyone seemed to notice when the U.S. surpassed China in number of cases of Covid-19. This seemed like a frightening milestone. We're still on the upswing, too.

This post was probably most distressing of all. A friend of mine posted the local paper's story two staff members at a local nursing home tested positive for coronavirus. It's the nursing home where not one but both of her grandmothers live.

I lost sleep over this. That virus isn't just in my community, it's in a place where vulnerable people live. And how awful and helpless those staff members musts feel for not knowing they were bringing this virus to the residents they care for, the people they have been helping protect. The relatives of the other staff members and residents must feel helpless, too, waiting and wondering who will fall ill next.

Those close connections we have with one another--with those we care for, talk to, touch--suddenly those connections are becoming possible pathways for the virus's spread.

Notice, though, how my friend is reacting. She calls the staff "incredible" and praises them for their care of her loved ones.

For her, those connections still matter. I hope we can all keep those connections strong between each other, even when it's the connections that are driving this crisis.

WFH: where and how

At first, I was just puzzled by an acronym I kept seeing in social media: WFH. I kept thinking it might be an odd assortment of profanity.

But no. It stands for Work From Home.

It's what we do during a Plague Year. Working during a time of Social Distancing means working from home. At least for me.

I do like my job, and it's an exhilarating challenge to try to figure out how to plan for online learning for my students.

First, though, I had to figure out how and where--in my home--I was going to work.

I eventually ended up here, in the basement.

It's not as nice as sitting on the couch upstairs or at my little counter/desk in the kitchen. But I discovered that my laptop's wifi connection wasn't quite good enough for things like Zoom or Google Hangouts. I kept dropping the service! So with some advising from my IT guy (Robbie), I decided I needed an ethernet adapter for my computer.

Lo and behold, we had one in the Box Full of Cords!

I'm sure you probably have one of these at your house.

Anyway, once plugged into the ethernet (the outlet is down here), I'm good.

My WFH attire includes comfy sweats and slippers.

And like many WFHers, I have a co-worker.

Yawning, not yelling, though she does that, o

More later on what it means to be a college professor, working from home . . .

What's for dinner?

If you've been to the grocery store recently, you've probably seen shelves that look like this:

If you want canned soup, you're out of luck.

From what I've heard, there are no supply shortages--of food or toilet paper. Stores just can't keep up with sudden waves of panic buying.

This shopper (not me!) was making the most of this grocery shopping trip

Apparently, sales of delicious snack foods are up! The Motley Fool says that "people are buying 30% more potato chips than before COVID-19, while pretzel sales jumped 47% and popcorn soared 48%." Yum, someone's going to have some delightful social distancing time!

But what about meals?  Do we have enough food at our house to avoid making extra trips to the grocery store? Especially when we're starting to hear city officials urge residents to stay home and only go out if necessary.

I was feeling a bit panicked this weekend about cooking during this pandemic, so after we made a trip to the grocery store, I made a list of what we had on hand for hot meals.

It looks like we've got enough for 16-17 meals without having to go out and shop again. Somehow, this activity made me feel much calmer. I recommend it!

(I also did a TP inventory. We have 16 rolls!)

"These things agitated the minds of the people"

they flocked to the churches and meetings, and they were all so thronged that there was often no coming near, no, not to the very doors of the largest churches. Also there were daily prayers appointed morning and evening at several churches, and days of private praying at other places; at all which the people attended, I say, with an uncommon devotion.     ~from  A Journal of the Plague Year by Daniel Defoe

Let's take a minute to imagine the situation in 17th century London, where a terrible pandemic was surging through the households of the city: the Bubonic Plague. The effects of the disease were frightening and violent: swollen lymph nodes, fevers and rashes, blackened limbs as gangrene set in, vomiting of blood, and death.

What a frightening time it must have been.

With all that going on around them, many desperate people sought answers, protection, and comfort. Many turned to charlatans who were popping up everywhere: fortune-tellers, "quack-conjurers," and "pretenders to magic, to the black art, as they called it."

Fortune teller reading palms

Defoe tells us that these opportunists gladly took the money of "the working labouring poor," who lived in the regions hardest hit, and provided answers (clearly made-up) to questions like "Will my mistress keep me, or will she turn me out?"

Of course, many people in 17th century London turned to religion. But according to Defoe, some of the day's preachers served up guilt and fear, driving them to despair rather than ministering to their spiritual and physical needs.

Defoe criticizes this fire and brimstone approach, and wistfully shares what he thinks the churches of his day should offer instead:

indeed, as God Himself through the whole Scriptures rather draws to Him by invitations and calls to turn to Him and live, than drives us by terror and amazement, so I must confess I thought the ministers should have done also, imitating our blessed Lord and Master in this, that His whole Gospel is full of declarations from heaven of God's mercy, and His readiness to receive penitents and forgive them, complaining, 'Ye will not come unto Me that ye may have life', and that therefore His Gospel is called the Gospel of Peace and the Gospel of Grace.

The Other Dr. Nesmith and I have been finding community and spiritual sustenance in Facebook Live services offered by our church, St. Paul's United Methodist Church in Cedar Rapids.

Pastor Jonathan and Pastor Sherrie holding a Facebook Live church service.

Today, about 120 other people were participating in the service with us--from their homes! It's not the same as being in the same building with them, but hearing the "declarations from heaven of God's mercy" brought us the strength that we need today.

Miasma, or How COVID-19 seems to spread

Before people understood how germs make people sick, they believed that illnesses could be attributed to "bad air." If the air smelled bad--especially if it had the smell of organic matter rotting--people believed it was full of particles that would make anyone who breathed it sick.

If you've read Steven Johnson's excellent book The Ghost Map: The Story of London's Most Terrifying Epidemic and How it Changed Science, Cities, and the Modern World (I mean, really! With a title like that, who wouldn't read that book?!), you might remember miasma theory.

The book describes a terrible cholera outbreak in London and a doctor named John Snow who started to question the widely-held idea of miasma.

By talking with people whose families had been affected by the outbreak, he discovered that the local pump where the families in the affected area got their water was the common element in all the cases of cholera. When the pump handle was removed, the cholera epidemic abated.

It was the water source that was contaminated, not the air.

I've been thinking about miasma as this pandemic has seeped into our country, like bad air coming from the sewage treatment plant.

We all understand germ theory, but I'm starting to wonder if our fear of the disease has some of us hearkening back to a miasma theory view.

I still saw an article in the New York Times--the Times, for heaven sake!--based on an interview with a doctor who recommended that people wash all their clothes and their hair after coming back from grocery shopping!

Really, NYT?

I thought that seemed extreme! I mean, can the virus infect us through our skin? or our hair?

Elsewhere in the NYTimes, I found another article, this one fully-researched, called "How the coronavirus can and cannot spread." 

According to this article, scientists believe that sneezing and coughing are the main ways the virus gets out of an infected person into the world. And if you're standing close to someone who's sick as they talk (that is, closer than 3-6 feet) you could be at some risk, because the virus might hitch a ride on the teeny tiny droplets of water in a sick person's breath--and get breathed into your lungs. 

Yikes! That sounds like miasma! I can see how someone might be totally freaked out by this concept. I kind of am.

But the researched article and the CDC website also remind us that the virus doesn't penetrate into our bodies through our skin. It has to get into our eyes, mouths, or noses to infect us. Because of this, even if we touch a surface where a virus might be lurking, the virus can't infect us... as long as we don't touch our mouth, nose, or eyes.

The CDC reaffirms that:

It may be possible that a person can get COVID-19 by touching a surface or object that has the virus on it and then touching their own mouth, nose, or possibly their eyes, but this is not thought to be the main way the virus spreads.

My eye just started itching as I read that passage . . . 

I think I need to go wash my hands.

OK. There might be some germ-vapor "miasma" out there, in the breath of infected people. So we do need to keep up our Social Distancing.

And we need to wash our hands after being out in public where there just might be viruses in tiny droplets on hard surfaces.

I'm going to tell the Other Dr. Nesmith that it's probably OK for him to bring in our newspaper from the front porch (yes, we still get the old-fashioned kind of newspaper) as long as he doesn't put it up his nose or stick it in his eye. 

And as long as he washes his hands afterwards.

Deal going down in a parking lot

I got an email this week from Dave, one of the basses in Chorale Midwest, the choir I sing with. Like all of us, he'd heard about the shortages of hand sanitizer, and wanted to share some ingredients for making our own. 

As I read his email, I began to smile, and then chuckle.

Here's some of what he said:

I know there's a lot of anxiety out there with the unprecedented changes we're going through in our new world reality. I wanted to offer something small to discourage virus-passing if you have need of it, following the lead of Cedar Ridge Distillery* today. I've mentioned this to my Facebook friends as well, but Chorale is family so I'm reaching out to the membership to offer a small token towards making sure we all return safe and sound when our season resumes.

I use 190 proof ethanol for various hobby and professional things (its denatured, so it can't be used for "medicinal" purposes), and have a couple gallons on hand. This alcohol is usually very cheap, but it is getting hard to find with all the hoarding going on. No need to go Walter White on an railroad tank car to get some! 

 * for the Cedar Ridge Distillery story, go here.

Dave's email showed both generosity and a good sense of humor. In these days of social distancing, it was nice to get a message from someone from the choir--especially a cheerful, fun message like this one.

Even though I didn't really need any hand sanitizer, I wanted to connect back with Dave, to let him know I appreciated his email and his offer.

So I wrote to him to thank him but say that I didn't need any because "I am a soap and water girl."

Dave sent another good-natured and fun email back to me:

Soap and water is definitely best--I've washed so many times lately I can read old 7th grade math test notes on my palms! I only use sanitizer when I'm getting into the car (I don't have one of those fancy models with a wet bar!) and in a pinch. I've hummed Happy Birthday to myself so many times in the last week at a sink, I'm a centenarian several times over.

LOL!  And duh! My car! It would be great to have some hand sanitizer in my car, so after getting groceries, I could quickly get my hands clean, I thought. 

So I messaged Dave again, and we set up a time to meet at his workplace.

When I pulled up outside, Dave came out into the parking lot.

"So do you have the good stuff?" I joked.  "I've never actually done a handoff of chemical goods in a parking lot!" I felt a little like Walter White.

I had accidentally left one of my empty bottles at home, so he gave me some alcohol in an empty pop bottle!

It's not 7up

"Don't drink it!" he warned. (After wiping down the bottle: "you don't know where my hands have been.")

When I got home, I mixed me up some hand sanitizer with the alcohol and some aloe gel I already had.

I'll leave the bottles in our cars.

Isn't the color great?

Thanks, Dave--for the hand sanitizer ingredient, and for your cheerful good nature!

My coronavirus turning point(s)

I was at Wednesday night church choir rehearsal (on March 11) when I saw the news that Coe was planning to extend Spring Break an extra week and considering going to online instruction because of coronavirus.

That moment was a turning point for me. In an odd way, the announcement (via email) actually made me feel less anxious than I'd felt all week. At least I knew something. I'd been hearing about closures and changes for the last couple of days and wondering at what point I'd need to start making changes to my classes and the writing center.

So I was glad to get that email.

Lest you envision me looking at my phone in the middle of a choir rehearsal (heavens no!), I was checking my email after rehearsal, when the choir was having our monthly Birthday Celebration--celebrating choir members who were born in March.

There was chatter all around about how different places were reacting to the spread of COVID-19. Our choir director, Ben, who's a grad student at the U of I, told us that the U was going to online-only classes. Kind of a challenge for someone studying choral conducting. On the other hand, at least he knew what would be happening. At that point, I was still wondering.

So I pulled out my phone, opened my Coe email, and there it was: A message from Office of the President:

Here's the important part of the message.

As you are probably aware, many colleges and universities have moved to online instruction for the remainder of the semester.  Personal, face-to-face education is one of the hallmarks of our college and it cannot be easily replicated online.  At the same time, we are attentive to guidelines from public health officials that discourage public gatherings in the near term (the longer term is still unknown).  Therefore, we have determined to extend spring break for students until Monday, March 30.  This will provide us with time to plan, to monitor the progress of the virus and the evolving guidelines from public health agencies, and to adapt courses to online modalities in case that becomes necessary.

(emphasis mine)

There it is, buried in the middle of that paragraph: the statement that we would be closing an extra week for spring break. And at the end: the extra week would be used to prep to go online.

Back in the hallway outside the choir room, where my fellow singers were helping themselves to lovely birthday treats, I took a deep breath as I looked at my phone. I remember saying "OK, there it is." Ben asked me if I'd just heard about Coe, and I told him what I'd learned.

"I sure hope that we're able to go back to regular classes after our long break," I said. And I really thought that maybe we would.

Last night, though, Wednesday, March 18, I found out that Coe would not be going back to regular classes after the long break: we're going to go to online instruction for the rest of the semester. Another turning point.

What have your coronavirus turning points been? Moments when your outlook about this virus and its effects really changed?

Swimming the Pandemic

Everyone's been remarking on how quickly things have been changing during this pandemic. One day you're doing your usual routine, and the next--you can't.

That's what happened with my exercise routine. 

On Sunday, I went to the Y for my usual swim. When I got back, I wrote this blog post.

Yesterday, the Y closed abruptly at 1 pm for the foreseeable future.

I'll share this post, anyway. 

What regular physical activities have you had to give up because of pandemic-related closures?

3/15/2020

I slipped into the cool water of the Cedar Rapids Metro YMCA today at about 11:40 am today, my usual Sunday swim time. As usual, there was room for me, and I didn't have to circle swim with anyone--I just split a lane with someone.

As I checked in at the front desk earlier, I told the desk worker that I was glad the Y was open. "Are they making any plans to close?" I asked.

"No, they'll be open for now," she replied.

I waited.

"Well, they did tell us that if the public schools take an extra week for break--it's their break now, you know--then we'll probably close."

Oh.

"Well, I'm grateful that you're open today!" I said before heading to the locker room.

A day or two ago on Facebook, my cousin had pointed out to me that they'd probably shut down the Y. 'They shut down all the public pools in Italy," she pointed out.

I have been swimming laps for exercise (not racing! I am NOT fast!) since I was 24. Twice a week, I go to the Y and swim at my (rather slow pace) back and forth in the pool for about 20 minutes. Maybe because I set the bar so low (yes, just 2x a week! Only 20 minutes at a time!), I have been able to keep up this habit. I even swam during both of my pregnancies, up to a few days before each boy was born.

My latest workout is High Intensity Interval Training or HIIT, where I swim as fast as I can down the length of the pool, and swim back at a regular pace. I am not a sporty person, but this little workout give me a chance to stretch out my muscles and get the blood flowing.

And plus: if I stay active, then I can eat ice cream once in a while without having to buy new, bigger clothes!

When I heard that the Y might close soon because of the coronavirus, I was not surprised. Still, I felt frustrated.

Sometimes I wonder if I have a slight exercise addiction.

Luckily, the weather isn't too awful, so I can get out to go walking. I don't consider that quite as much of a workout as swimming, but it will keep me moving. I'll enjoy the sunshine, too.

A journal for a plague year--inspired by Daniel Defoe

It was about the beginning of September, 1664, that I, among the rest of my neighbours, heard in ordinary discourse that the plague was returned again in Holland; for it had been very violent there, and particularly at Amsterdam and Rotterdam, in the year 1663, whither, they say, it was brought, some said from Italy, others from the Levant, among some goods which were brought home by their Turkey fleet; others said it was brought from Candia; others from Cyprus. It mattered not from whence it came; but all agreed it was come into Holland again.        

                       --Opening passage from Daniel Defoe, A Journal of the Plague Year 


I have been thinking about Daniel Defoe's book Journal of the Plague Year for the past week. In fact, I found a copy at the Coe College library and signed it out on the last day of classes before our "extended" spring break--the spring break that just might morph into cancellation of in-person classes at Coe this spring because of our own 21st century plague: COVID-19.

I first read Journal of the Plague Year in graduate school--in a class on 18th century British literature. As a person who occasionally has obsessions with macabre topics (the Titanic, Lizzie Bordon, the Plague), I found it fascinating.

A screenshot of a page from my blog "Reading the Titanic."
Is it morbid to be interested in things like the Titanic and the Plague?

As a person who likes to read--and write--creative nonfiction, I enjoyed thinking about the book as a piece of writing.

Although it purports to be a diary of sorts, written by someone who lived through the plague of 1665 as it swept through London, the author, Daniel Defoe, was only 5 years old in 1665.

Daniel Defoe when he was more than 5 years old.

So in order to write the book, he had to do research--probably interview humans and experts, read what there was written about the plague, find primary sources, and so on. He had to reflect on and articulate some of the themes and ideas that arose when recounting the effect of such a disaster on the population--and on a single individual, the "I" of the story. And he then put all that information into an interesting narrative.

Of course today Journal of the Plague Year seems particularly relevant. Maybe those of us living through this particular Plague Year have an opportunity to write our own journals.

As those of us who've kept journals know, writing can be a powerful way to channel one's thoughts. Research has shown that putting our experience into a narrative can help us process that experience and make meaning out of it.

And in these times when things are changing every day and uncertainty abounds, writing can help us feel more in control. Or at least, it can help us corral our worries and anxieties onto the page.

I think, too, that reading about how someone else weathered a disaster--a pandemic, in fact--can help us put our own situation into some kind of perspective.

And what about posterity? I bet some day in the future, someone will ask you "what did you do during the great pandemic of 2020?" Wouldn't it be great to have some records of what was happening around you, what you were thinking, how you were responding?

For all these reasons--and because I just felt compelled by this Plague Year idea--I'm starting this blog. I hope to write frequently, maybe a few times a week. I've already written a few posts, and I'll start sharing publishing them on this blog and sharing them via social media.

Are you keeping some kind of journal or record of this unusual and strange year? Let me know if you are!

Until the next post, I wish you health and peace.