Processing Through a Temporary New Normal

It's been almost six weeks now since the whole damn world shifted and Zoom became a verb. As of Today—April 23, 2020—over 47,000 Americans have lost their lives. Here in Texas, our death toll has remained relatively low. We are currently hovering around 550 deaths, but the number of COVID-19 cases is still rising. Folks are growing weary of the shutdown and radical, right-wing conservatives who believe in cockamamy conspiracy theories and "deep state" deception have begun protesting at various state capitols. Millions of U.S. citizens have filed for unemployment, and although there is a phase in plan in place for reopening state and local governments, uncertainty permeates the air we breathe.

This insanely odd season of life has left us all with more questions than answers. The catastrophic virus has exposed egregious inequalities which existed long before the pandemic took hold. But now, we as a country, must face the facts about health disparities, food insecurity, and political structures that marginalize the global majority. Our schools remain closed as kids and teachers across the country mourn connection, joy, and normalcy. One of the most powerful messages about remote learning came from Marian Dingle on Twitter. She writes, "This is not teaching. This is assignment management during a global emergency while coping with collective trauma the best I can."

I wish I could capture in words what my daily routine looks like, but the truth is—it doesn't exist. I'm sleeping more than eight hours a night, and I rarely wake up when it's dark outside. The only consistency I experience is compulsively checking the Corona Virus numbers online each morning and conversing with my niece, Mabel, on Google Meets three days a week. There's been random and infrequent trips to Kroger, an occasional stroll through the neighborhood, and some unpredictable reading binges. I mindlessly scroll through Facebook and Twitter—which usually leaves me feeling more lonely and disconnected than ever.

I think the most challenging part of this whole is experience has been losing my identity as an educator. Because I'd already resigned from my position as a literacy coach in Decatur, I've felt adrift, useless, and nonessential. Sure I tune into an occasional Zoom meeting and I've physically made an appearance in the school district about once a week to manage the delivery and distribution of new instructional materials, but if I'm honest, I know my contributions to teaching and learning during this time have been minimal. For someone who has a history of workaholism, this "Great Pause" has both refreshed and devastated me. New job opportunities are on the horizon, but I continue to wrestle with my purpose, passions, and professional pathways.

Besides tuning into the nightly White House news briefings—which I recently quit doing because my blood pressure would rise every time Donald Trump became unhinged—I've also been reading and studying a lot about ABAR education. I'm participating in a Canvas course called Liberate And Chill, and now that we are in our final week, I'm questioning why I chose to dive into a traumatizing unit of study during a traumatizing season of life. I hope the learning and discomfort I've felt will propel me to be braver, bolder, and more vocal about injustice and inequity.

For now, we are all still waiting to hear news about whether our pools will open this summer, when we can travel again, and how the stimulus money may or may not prevent complete and utter economic ruin. Folks are starting to ask questions like, "What is the first thing you'll do once the restrictions are fully lifted?" and "How long do you think everyone will be wearing masks?" I guess this means there is some light at the end of the tunnel, but I bet if you asked this of someone who has lost a family member to "the invisible enemy" their answers would be wildly different than mine. I'm super grateful that Brené Brown's new podcast, Unlocking Us, launched during this global crisis because she reminds us that comparative suffering serves no one.

*Side Note: In my last blog I said I would try to write once a week. Clearly, I failed. Maybe I'll check in again in another month or so. I write when I wake up compelled. This hasn't been happening much, so keep your expectations low.