Corona Virus

After reading about the state of things in New York today (Sat., Mar. 28), I don’t think that I can joke too much about the virus. Here are some local observations.

Is relish a vegetable? Sometimes I wait until I’m just about out of everything before going to the grocery store. (Then I don’t feel as bad about spending the money, too.) I see people in masks and remember that it’s good to get out quickly. Mostly what I buy is wine and cereal (I have these separately). We now have to stand behind pieces of tape on the floor at checkout to maintain space between us. A good idea.

Maybe the idea of maintaining space, especially if you’re sick, can carry over to the classroom when all of this is over. I have had students stand about six inches from me and lower their voice (for privacy, I assumed). Trying to boost my student engagement and empathy (ongoing SCAD edicts), I’d lean in. They would then tell me that they’re deathly ill, so is their roommate, and they don’t think that they should be in class today. Great.

Why gloves at the grocery store? I saw a woman at Whole Foods yesterday wearing a pair of winter gloves. Can’t these people put hand sanitizer on their hands when they get back in the car? Then wash their hands when they get home? I can see the logic in glove-wearing by workers who touch food like check-out clerks. But beyond that it’s pretty creepy.

Press conferences by Governor Kemp. Granted, his press conferences and public statements are necessities right now. But I’m sick of the fake folksy speech (“We’re gonna be frank with folks, and we’re gonna be sure we kin do it in a straight-forward kinda way.”) I want competence and clear English. No more opaque voting schemes that depress turnout. I want smart people as leaders and I want my country back. Is that too much to ask? Do you know who Stacey Abrams is?

Back to on-line teaching.

Faux Pas

 Well, I didn’t do a very good of “breathing in” a new colleague yesterday.

I was at the main campus of Savannah Tech, sitting at the adjunct’s desk. A Lead Community Team Instructor, the level of my boss,  sat down at the computer next to me. First, I called him the wrong name (it’s “Rick,” not “Dick”).  Why, oh why, don’t I let in the little voice in my head to say, ‘Julie, you’re not positive of this person’s name, and you don’t know him well, so instead of guessing out loud, simply say you’re unsure, could you please remind me again?’ Robin would laugh at this.

Of course, we were discussing the virus and the new state of things. Rick said that he planned to make a meatloaf but both Sam’s Club and Kroger’s were out of ground beef.  couldn’t find ground beef at Sam’s Club or Kroger. Of course, he said, this might be a good time to clean out cabinets; he could root around and find that can of chili in the back. And I said, “Oh, I just finished doing that before I got this job” (!).  Robin would be crying-laughing now. How awful! And one of my Douglas-mandated missions (Douglas is my boyfriend who often gives me assignments) in doing some work at Savannah Tech over pring break was to establish ties with my new colleagues.

It didn’t stop there. We then talked about hoarding at stores and I proclaimed, “I don’t have the money to hoard!”  Same issue going on here.  Why am I disclosing like this?  Why couldn’t I have just offered some bland response like, “I know, isn’t it awful?” Then he wouldn’t think that I’m some urchin that Savannah Tech recently hired.

He nodded after each of my weird responses. At least I remembered that he was a graduate of Broward College, the school that I taught for in Brazil last fall.

Goal for tomorrow:  Try to have normal interactions and not end up with negative-one new colleagues.

Robin #2

I mentioned Robin soon after I started this blog. She passed away in December, 2014. 

One of Robin’s amazing gifts was her ability to read people. She’d ask a question that zeroed in on “where you were.” It was as if she had sifted through everything and found what was most important to you at the time.

Then she’d add her incredible humor to the questions. If I talked to Robin today, she’d ask something like: So Julie, how’s life outside of the SCAD security zone? How is your new-found freedom? Are you actually able to go out one night a week now? My brother-in-law, Bob, who met Robin when we were roommates in Cambridge, Mass., would call this kind of comment “spot on.” (Bob took us out to dinner when he was on a business trip in Boston, and we ended up at a diner in Providence where he went to college. Robin thought that was hilarious.) 

My vocal performance teacher at SCAD talked about “breathing in” your ensemble partners to be in their mindset and create a unified performance. Robin had a way of breathing in her close friends and family.

Although she knew when to take things seriously, Robin thought that so much was funny. When we’d talk on the phone there would be brief periods of silence. I thought that we were just pausing in the conversation until I heard this gasp – Robin was laughing at something I’d said that I didn’t think was funny! She helped me not take myself so seriously and see the world in a different way – with more humor, for one thing.

                 

Robin Riggs was a working artist (as well as a mom and wife) and had a studio in downtown Champaign, IL.

Thinking of her reminds me to breathe in the important people in my life and laugh more. 

The Little Things

Today I'm taking my own cream cheese to the bagel store to put on the one bagel that I’ll buy. My austerity program has given me a new appreciation for ... everything. One problem is coffee. I drink instant coffee at home, but my limit is one cup. St. Mary's (Community Center, where I work) has coffee but the pot is shared by about six people. I have a scheme for obtaining free coffee, of course, but the store is not on my way to work. They're spared – during the week at least. 

I’m lucky that austerity is temporary until a paycheck from my part-time teaching job and tax refund arrive. It's part of an employment choice that I made. But my lifestyle has changed. Internet (and cable) at home are no longer in the budget, for now at least. Thankfully, a haircut soon will be. I'm savoring every little thing that I can slowly re-afford. Recent highlights were frozen waffles and a dish rack. My sister sent me a Starbucks card for Valentine’s Day, and the non-instant coffee this morning was amazing.

The situation has made me less judgmental and more open-minded; I hope it stays with me. I teach a GED class in a low-income area, and most of my students are smart, hardworking and in need in some way. My classroom is down the hall from the public benefits office. People wander in mistakenly and, before I can redirect them, tell me that their food stamps have been cut.

Over the weekend I texted the aunt of one of my better students who hasn't been to class lately. She tells me that she's had to keep her nephew home because she hasn’t been able to pay the car insurance. I tell her that I understand. 

I await my tax refund (like many) and get by far easier than most who live day-to-day.

St. Mary's Community Center