The Longest Week

And now, the wisdom/advice/guidance comes for all of us to wear masks when we're out in public.  Of course, the nation faces a shortage of medical grade masks that might actually block the virus, but there's some thought that a cloth mask might help.

I do have a lot of cloth that I could use to create masks.  If only I had time to sew.

I see various types of posts from people who are holed up in quarantine who have made thousands of masks or written the definitive biography of Julian of Norwich or made their thirty-sixth loaf of homemade bread with sourdough starter that they created with native yeasts that they captured in their back yard.  I have spent this past work week in the office.  Even though we are only there from 9 to 5, I feel like every day both lasts an eternity while also zooming right by.

Getting our classes/teachers/students ready for 2 types of online learning is even more exhausting than getting ready for an accreditation visit.

I've got a lot of grading for my online classes.  The stories of loss that I hear from my students break my heart:  laying off 150 employees, losing a place to live, having to work more hours in dangerous conditions.

And then there's the other sadness.  Yesterday I was grading my students' evaluation essays.  Many of them were writing about restaurants that will likely not be there when we're allowed to go out again. 

I wrote this Facebook post that seems worth recording here so that I can find it again:

"2:41 a.m. EDT: a bird sings riotously under half a moon. I should grade papers.

Two hours later: It is so strange to read my students' evaluation essays--reviews of restaurants and other places that may not make it through this virus crisis.

The bird still sings riotously. The moon has set. I still have papers to grade, while trying not to weep at the thought of what may have been lost in the past month.

Perhaps I have just written a rough draft of a poem . . ."