Don't let this make you "Miserable"

It's Saturday and I deliberately woke up early this morning to beat the crowds to the local discount store.  We needed a few items and I needed to avoid people so I said to myself, "Self, let's go when they open up and no one will be there."  Well, I was wrong.   

I had a strategy in mind--avoid people at all costs, and get in and get out as quickly as possible.  In fact, I was in such a hurry that it took me a while to notice it.  Even though there were a lot of people there, no one was crowding each other.  In fact, everyone appeared to go to great lengths to give each other distance.  I ended up in the craft section looking at fabric and another very nice lady wandered over as well.  She politely stood back the suggested 3-6 feet while I looked at the fat quarters before I stepped over so that she could look as well.  We started chatting and turns out she was purchasing cloth to make hospital masks for visitors so that the other masks can be saved for hospital personnel. There is a terrible shortage in some places and hospitals are asking those who sew to help them out.

Then on my way home, I decided to listen to some uplifting music (cue laughter), and put on the finale to Les Miserables.  This perfectly fit my mood at the moment and I cruised along singing when I heard it--the phrase that perfectly fits our situation and reminds us of what we need to hear each day, "Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise"--Victor Hugo.

This existence can only make me "miserable" if I let it. I can choose to let this all get me down or I can choose to use this extra time I've been given to be a blessing to someone else. Instead of grumbling about what this stinkin' virus has done, I choose to count my blessings and enjoy the time I am given with my family. I refuse to be one of  Les Miserables today! (bad pun intended)

Liz

A "Paine" in my Tushy

A Paine in my Tushy

These are the times that try men’s souls, wrote Thomas Paine in 1776.  These words written almost 250 years ago are just as relevant today as they were then. I was able to hang out at school today for a little while during the lunch program.  Let me just tell you, lunch duty was a little different than usual.  Our sweet lunch ladies are sitting under the awning outside with lunch in coolers handing bags to cars that drive up. 

The halls are quiet and echo when you walk down them now.  There is no banging of lockers, no loud voices, and the rooms are dark.  I sit alone in the office on my solitary duty and wonder how we got here.  The President has delivered his daily address and not a lot has changed in 24 hours except more stores are closing their doors and more people are worried about how they will pay their bills. 

These are the times that try men’s souls…

As educators we contemplate what the coming days and weeks will be like, and we miss our school babies.   I miss talking to them about their daily problems, their grades, their athletic accomplishments, and their triumphs.  I miss their hugs and silly jokes.  I miss telling each one of them good morning as they enter the front doors each day and singing silly songs to our special needs classes.  I miss talking with the stragglers waiting to be picked up about how their life is going.  And I even miss hanging out in the hall during bathroom breaks because that is when I get the most hugs!

So while I can’t go hug each of my school kids today, I will go home in a little while and hug my personal children a little tighter in honor of each of those children who might have needed a little love from Mama James today but didn’t get it.  

I hope they remember who loves them (You do, Mama James!).

Carona-who?

Two weeks ago Covid-19 entered my world.  Until then, it was someone else's problem somewhere else in the world. The problem belonged in a distant land with distant people who we prayed for non-specifically.  And then...then it invaded my space.  

As a middle school AP, my worst fear has always been that a school shooter would invade my campus. While that is still a fear that I have, I can honestly say that I never saw this threat coming.  It snuck up on us with every disregard for common courtesy and decency.  It had no care for those who would have been going to prom this weekend. It did not care that as educators we had to stop accepting hugs from our students. We had to explain why this was and try to alleviate fears without hugging them--an impossible task.  It didn't care that those of us with compromised immune systems live in fear of something like this, and as much as we wanted to crawl into bed and hide, we couldn't do that because the kiddos needed us. 

Despite all of this, however, we may have seen one of our finest hours as educators in this state. We literally had it dropped in our laps at 3:30pm on a Friday that we would not be coming back to school for two weeks and we needed to come up with a plan to help our students continue learning.  We did what any educator worth his salt would do--we came up with a plan and executed it with aplomb. In a matter of hours on Monday, plans were made, copying began, and packets were made. On Tuesday and Wednesday we created a drive-thru campus where parents were able to pick up assignments and lunch for their children without ever leaving the car.  We did what Americans do best in times of crisis. We put on our big girl pants and had a parking lot party while we worked.  We played greatest hits, we line danced, and we laughed. And then we said goodbye. We said goodbye not knowing if this would be it for our year or if we would see each other again in a few weeks.  

Since Coronovirus entered our lives we have learned to look at everything with suspicion. Do I shake hands for this meeting? Will my eye doctor put on a mask to do my exam? Will I look crazy if I ask him to? Do I care? That person over there coughed. Do they have it? Or is that pollen making them cough?

I told someone last night that I refused to live my life in fear. I'm going to keep on telling myself that and maybe I'll begin to believe it after awhile.  

Until next time,

Liz