Dog Days

"Whose legs are those?"  Prem asked randomly, during one of our pull-out sessions.  They sit on the floor, my students, with their Chromebooks on chairs and at times, various family members walk behind whoever is in class. 

"Hey wait, Veronica, is that Adriana?  Is that your mom?"  I asked, happy to see missed members of their families that I haven't seen in a while.  Identifying legs is hard.  I sit on the floor too, while I work.  But my back is to my shelf of records, so legs don't walk behind me.  

I have to get to my MEET groups first, before any of the students join.  Whoever gets there first controls the meeting.  I found this out the hard way when I couldn't mute a new student who tends to sing Islamic chants the whole time he works.  And he gets there early.

Everything changes when I get to remove my students from their virtual classrooms, for pull-out.  Some of the teachers try to dictate all of the time, yelling at me like they do their students, Ms. Wagner, you have ten minutes, get them back on time.... Others want me to take the kids all of the time, because they have a bit of a hands off approach to any child they view as "international".  Sometimes these kids aren't even ESOL students...just Asian, or Hispanic, or African.  I know most of them and don't mind helping, it's just a little weird.  They think I can speak every language in the universe and have an immediate line to every parent of a non-majority ethnicity kid and can just, you know, get it done, wether they are English learners or not.  Sometimes, ethnic confusion pops up even with the ESOL kids... Ms. Wagner, speak to her in Spanish so the other kids won't know what you're saying....but Ms. X, the student is Burmese and doesn't understand Spanish.... I respond.  

I do like it when we leave.  The snacks come out.  They show me the books I sent them this summer.  Many lay down on their beds and prop themselves up on pillows. It's not that I don't want them to do school work.  I just don't see why everything has to be so extreme - dress code, no water, sit up straight.  

And, I get to guess whose legs are those, and visit with everyone.  

Covid 2020

"This is Alberto's sister.  Please text me back, I'm trying to help him, he can't get online."  It was 7:50 in the morning on the first day of school.  And, I knew that Alberto's sister was only in high school and was probably trying to get online for her own classes, too.

Virtual teaching officially began.  By the second day, the students had learned to mute their teachers, leaving them speaking voicelessly to entire classes.  The kids even muted each other.  They took over teachers' Power Points, tearing through them at record pace.  I knew I shouldn't laugh, but I couldn't help it.  

"Ms. Wagner, I can't get in, I don't know my password...." Bway Paw exclaimed in a message.  I started emailing teachers, begging them to give me sign-in information for their pages.  Some refused.  Others simply didn't answer at all.

"Hey, can I call you on TEAMS in a minute, it won't take long."  Mr. Warner asked.  I logged on to the call.

"A bunch of your students are missing, I don't know where they are....Rosa, David, Agnieszka..."  

I was glad that he cared.  

"I got a hold of David's dad and he said that David's mother picked him up for visitation and never returned....."  he continued.  

I gasped. Where is he?  Where the fuck is David?  Is he safe?

"I don't know what is going on with Agnieszka's dad...."  Mr. Warner continued explaining.

"Yeah...he's difficult.  All last spring he just kept saying that he didn't know the kids still had to attend school.  We told him a million times that they did, that they attend online, but he would just say the same thing whenever we could actually get ahold of him....let me request an interpreter, he needs to come pick up her Chromebook....." I responded. 

I found an old contact for Rosa's stepfather and discovered that she had moved.  I checked out her new school and it was a lot better than ours.  I was happy for her, but I'll miss her.  I hope she gets to see snow this year.  

"Ms. Wagner?"  Angel asked into the phone.

"Yes!  Angel, how are you??!!"  I responded, thrilled to hear from him.

"I can't get in, I can't get into my classes!"  he answered.  I could hear his mom in the background, speaking in what seemed like an agitated tone, in Spanish.  I was pissed.  I had been asking and asking for passwords and was being refused.  Angel had missed days of instruction.  He was one of multiple ESOL kids from the same class that could not enter the online classroom and we were being completely stonewalled.  I tried as best as I could to get him online and ended up asking to speak to his mom.  

"I don't speak so much English...."  she said awkwardly into the phone.  

"It's okay, I speak Spanish...." I answered.

It was like a volcano erupted.  She was furious.  She hadn't received a single message from any of Angel's teachers, yet received succinct log-in information on the first day from her other children's teachers.   

"Look,"  I said in Spanish.

"You are right.  This is ridiculous and I'm angry, too.  It's not right.  This is going to be resolved today."  Thankfully, I was able to keep my promise.  

"The WIDA remote screener will be our virtual tool for assessing English language proficiency for incoming students.  You will call the families, tell them to drive to the Center and pick up the student part of the test at 10:00am on Tuesdays, you will schedule a time to call back and screen the child virtually, use whatever the family wants you to use Zoom, What's app, FaceTime, whatever, just put it on your phone, screen the child, call them back to review the results, do all the paperwork, figure out some way to virtually upload it even though we want the forms handwritten.....blah blah blah blah blah blah blah....."  

Yeah, no problem.  Easy fucking peezy.  

The only part I was excited about was that I saw one of my new students to be screened was Prem's little brother.  Prem is such a cool kid that I was excited to receive a new family member.  I called, and his sister facilitated the screener, via FaceTime.

Ku was not having it.   

He repeatedly ran away, crying.  He flopped face down on the couch and tossed the phone away.  When he saw my face on the screen, he screamed.  I finished the screener, feeling horrible.  A message popped up on my computer.

"I could hear you testing my brother...."

"OMG, I am so sorry, Prem.  I totally terrorized him."  I answered.

"It's okay." he responded, then dropped out.

"Hey Ms. Wagner.....can we go live?" 

I thought the message was sweet.  I hadn't received my teaching schedule yet and had been communicating with my students via various messaging platforms, but not on a live video.  I set up the link and sent it out.  I waited a minute and suddenly saw little Alberto pop up on the screen, seated at a little desk in his bedroom.

"Hi Ms. Wagner."  he said, the same little enigmatic smile on his face that he always wears.

"Hi Alberto!  It is so good to see you!  How are you??"

"Well you know, my mom, she stopped hitting...yeah, she doesn't do that anymore.  And my dad?  Well, we don't like him anymore.  That woman with the baby I told you about?  They were not just friends.  And my mom, well, she got us a new dad, but we call him by his name.  Not 'dad'.  And, my mom's going to have a baby!  Its a boy!  I am so excited!"

I smiled broadly into my laptop.

"I am so happy for you, Alberto."  I said, really meaning it even though it was an unusual story.

"I am so glad things are going well."

Sloppy Joe

I watched the Republican, oh, my bad, Democratic Convention.  I was surprised to see the leader of the progressive movement, the person who came in second before the DNC-Biden coup, speaking on the first night, paired with Kasich, a Republican.  Kasich applauded the Democrats for resisting the "radical left".  I really don't give a shit what he thinks of liberals and don't really know why anyone else does either.  By the second night, my blood was boiling.  A montage of seventeen "rising stars" of the Democratic Party.  Mysteriously, all of them were Biden supporters.  Not a single progressive in the lot, no Squad, none of the people that have pumped energy and interest into a decaying, corrupt Democratic Party.  In addition, we got to watch Colin Powell and Cindy McCain.  AOC was relegated to a one minute sound bite, announcing the delegates for Sanders.  It was wildly misunderstood online and the insults started flying again.

"YOU JUST GOT US DONALD TRUMP FOR FOUR MORE YEARS!"
"Bernie supporters cost us the last election!!!!"
"If you don't get what you want you just take your toys and go home!"

Yet, you keep telling me that I have to join your side, while yelling and insulting me and blaming me for the last election.  Bernie Sanders didn't lose the election for Hillary Clinton.  Hillary Clinton barely appeared in public for months at a time and rarely visited the rust belt.  Patriarchal attitudes toward women by women didn't help either.  Jim Comey threw a Hillary email bomb right before the election.  The Russians conspired against her in order to help elect Trump.  The Electoral College allows for one person to win the popular vote and also, lose the election.

But, let's blame Bernie Sanders.  And his supporters.  Insult progressives, yet demand that we vote for hair-sniffing, malarkey-phonograph, "you aren't Black enough if you don't vote for me" Joe Biden.  I am not seeing myself reflected anymore in the traditional, Democratic Party.  We started the primary with a diverse panel of candidates.  Diverse by means of gender, race, ethnicity, sexual orientation, progressives and moderates.  And what did we end up with?  An old, white, male, moderate DNC-establishment candidate that wants to shove the progressive wing behind some curtain.  It doesn't help to have to watch a bunch of Republicans at the Democratic Convention, instead of the people that are actually bringing the party alive.  If there are Republicans out there that are still on the fence, I don't think Kasich or Michael Bloomberg is going to convince them.  Give it up, and let's celebrate what is good about our party and for me more than anything, that is the progressive wing.

So, before you start yelling at me too, yes, I am going to vote for Sloppy Joe.  And yes, I voted for Hillary, too.  But it is getting harder and harder to stomach.

First Day

"Okay, which system are you using to deliver assignments, VERGE or Google Classroom?"
"Google Classroom."
"Which video conferencing system are you using, TEAMS or Zoom?"
"Google Classroom."
"Are you telling me you are not using TEAMS or Zoom, but instead are using Google Meet, which is imbedded in Google Classroom?"
"I don't know.  I'm using Google Classroom."
"Which video conferencing?"
"Google Classroom."
"I'm using VERGE and TEAMS."
"I'm using Google Classroom and TEAMS."
"I'm using Google Classroom and MEET."
"Can you make me a co-owner of your class so that I can be in your live sessions?"
Radio silence. 
So, all of you are using a variety of platforms that you don't understand.  And, I am reliant on you in order to do my job and co-teach your sessions. 
Most of this went down after eight days of training, one hour before we were supposed to go live, on our first day of school.  All of the multiple teachers I have to collaborate with in order to access my students were using a hodgepodge of platforms, not really understanding how most of them work and failed to include me on them, no matter how much I asked. 

I sat, waiting for the moment when the kids were supposed to start logging on for school.  I felt like I was sitting on top of a giant machine, The Washington Post's printing press or like a uranium centrifuge processing plant or something, feeling the vibration while it geared up and start whipping up speed, going up to full bore.  Then, it crashed.  And crashed.  And crashed.  Tab after tab on my computer with the students' access pages showed the various sites crashing.  Texts and phone calls from district started flooding my phone.  My own internet started failing.  I felt an immense panic and started crying hysterically.  I'm using my Mac, not that shit the county gives us.  I upgraded my internet.  All of our efforts, all of the stress and it was all failing.

I set up my Google Voice a few days ago, though I no longer mind if my students or their parents contact me directly by phone.  I was surprised when I got a text from one of my most at risk student's sister, before eight o'clock.
"Hey, I'm Alberto's sister, I'm helping him but I have questions...."
I texted her back immediately, but never heard anything back. 
"Hey...I miss you...what am I supposed to be doing?"
I messaged back and forth all day on the county's system, oddly feeling like I was talking to an old friend instead a girl that just entered fourth grade, one of the few that knows how to use all this online shit. 

My email blew up for a minute, from the vice-principal and principal, telling me that I had a new student coming in to kindergarten.
I scoped him out the minute they put him in the system and realized it was Prem's little brother. 
I can't wait to meet him. 

Gardening at Night

I've been a little under the weather.  Not like, ventilator-under the weather, but definitely have some sort of cold.  I started getting a little nervous and decided to get tested again.  I still don't go out, but Alec is working and was exposed by a co-worker.  I also just kind of wanted to know.  I decided to go to one of the free, health department sites because I wasn't sure how many times my health insurance would pay for these tests and even if they did pay, I knew I haven't met my deductible and I don't want to cough up another $180.00 right now.

On Monday, I pulled up to the first health department site and was surprised to see a sign out front that stated that the site was closed because of "lightning".  I drove to another free site and got in line.  Thunder cracked through the air and the testers came out and informed us that they too were closing because of lightning.  I drove home.

Tuesday, I tried again and drove to a different, roving health department testing site.  I was surprised to get in there really fast.  I registered while standing there on an app on my phone and walked over to a tent where a volunteer handed me a bag via a really long set of pinchers.  It had my test inside and my name and date of birth on the outside.  I walked to the next tent and waited for the plastic covered volunteer to finish fumigating a chair, then sat in it as he stood six feet away from me, directing me how to perform the nasal swab myself.  The swab was like a mascara wand on a long stick.  I did the deed and handed him back the bag.
"Do you guys have an idea of how long the results might take?"  I asked cautiously.
"I did my own test a week ago Monday and just got the results back last night." the volunteer answered.
Eight days.
"Thanks." I said repeatedly and left.

The school year officially began on Wednesday.  My district decided not to pay us for five days worth of our salaries this year and instead, replaced four of them with a stipend-paid "learning institute".  The stipend is about one hundred dollars a day less than I usually make and for the fifth day, I get nothing. 

Each day began with a TEAMS call.  Everyone has pretty much learned to mute their microphones and keep the camera off at this point.  We were guided through a series of online modules and instructed to do small activities and upload our work into multiple folders and platforms in order to receive our stipend pay.  In the afternoon, we were told to work independently but to stay on the TEAMS call, muted.  By Thursday, things started getting strange.  The calls were lasting from eight in the morning until five in the afternoon, most of it in muted silence.

I laid on my bed with Lola doing modules, hearing people occasionally unmute their microphones.
"Rainier...Rainier...." the meanest teacher in the school suddenly began whispering into his microphone.
"I need help!  I don't know what I'm doing!"  he whispered furiously.
It was weird hearing him in my bedroom.
He was met with radio silence.  Lola rolled over on her other side.
"Oh hey....." Ms. Rainier suddenly purred.
"Sorry....I was eatin'...what'd you need....?" she continued in a sleepy tone, her southern drawl dragging her words out.
At random times someone would inadvertently unmute themselves, causing half the school to also unmute themselves and yell "MUTE YOURSELF!" before the offender said anything embarrassing.
"Anyone wanna hear a song?" another teacher offered one afternoon, breaking hours of silence.
"Sure." I responded in the chat.  I ended up sort of regretting that.
I was getting texts, too.  Laughing, complaining, or requesting to copy my work.
It felt like some giant, metro-Atlanta sleep over.

Thursday night, I received a message from the health department.  My COVID test had been damaged in transport and was inconclusive.  They requested that I come back and be tested again.

Friday, they let us out for a long lunch, but requested that we keep the TEAMS call rolling but our microphones muted.  I let the TEAMS call operate on auto-pilot and drove to another testing center.  I sat in a line of cars in a giant, cracked, sunbaked Porsche parking lot next to the airport, waiting for my turn to get tested again.

I looked up at the the big, commercial planes flying overhead and suddenly had an overwhelming urge to cry.  I got myself together, just in time to shove the mascara wand up my nose again.

*Title, REM 

The Bubble

The COVID circle continues to tighten.  A close friend got it.  Then Alec's work closed down due to a co-worker having a confirmed case.  Alec had worked with the person and had to get tested again.  It was much different than the first time, he was there over three hours in a line of cars that snaked through a neighborhood and was told to wait seven to ten business days for the result.  It's just coming closer and closer.

School decided to begin classes virtually and re-assess the situation in September.  I am relieved but would really like more information.  Is the teacher start date the same?  And in this talk of budget cuts and furloughs....can we discuss my payment for the next fiscal year, which started on Monday?  Again, I am incredibly relieved that they are not going to force us into an unsafe situation on July 27th.  I just wish we could minimize some of this uncertainty, especially when we are talking salary and schedule.  And as for the Housing Authority, that is still up in the air too.  And it's about 500 degrees in Atlanta right now, Georgia is clocking in at over four thousand new cases a day, the redneck governor is trying to silence our mayor and all of our heroes are dying.

Strange products keep going missing.  I'm not talking about the early explicables like toilet paper, masks, hand sanitizer, yeast, flour and Emergen-C, but really odd, inexplicable stuff.  Windex is gone, which I don't get.  It doesn't have all the anti-bacterial stuff of the other sprays, it's just like benign blue chemical.  My niece tried to make seafood and couldn't find Old Bay anywhere.  Fresca is like a black market item at this point.  Radishes are AWOL.  For a bit, cooking spray was some sort of hot commodity.

Two years ago, I began my thirteenth year teaching, crossing my fingers that I could make it through one more year of abusive bosses and weird-ass interdepartmental insanity, before making a change.  I didn't make it and asked out of my contract during the second week of the school year.  They let me out about six weeks and eight hundred dollars later and I embarked on an extensive tour of schools that lasted four months, only to decide on an ESOL job at a Title I school that actually felt right.  I finished the school year and felt revived, finally, about my place in the universe.  Year fourteen brought COVID and March school shutdowns and the shift to virtual teaching.  Year fifteen begins soon, online.  For almost two years, I have had the sensation that I can't imagine what next month might bring, or how different next year might be and I wonder even more now.  I found it kind of exciting at first.  It still is, but with an underlying feeling of not so nice uncertainty.

Whistling Past the Graveyard

Tell me what you know about dreamin', dreamin'
You ain't really know about nothin', nothin'
Tell me what you know about the night terrors every night 
5AM cold sweats waking up, to the sky
Tell me what you know about dreams
Tell me what you know about night terrors...nothin'
You don't really care about the trials of tomorrow...
I'm in the pursuit of happiness and I know
Everything that shines ain't always gonna be gold

There are a lot of different ways this could have gone down.  I'm not going to start with December, when the U.S. could have had an ear to the ground and started amassing testing kits, PPE and contact tracing.  Let's just go to March, when the cat was not even seeing the bag in its rear view window.

We could have really gone with this.  Stay in.  Get groceries delivered.  Chill.  For a bit.  Watch Netflix.
When we flattened the curve and were reporting few new cases a week...we could have moved to stage two.
People could go out with masks to the grocery store.  Maybe start getting some of those routine, medical appointments done that we get annually.  We really wouldn't need to go to Target or get our nails done or our hair cut.  We can cook our own food instead of making restaurant workers take risks because we are shitty cooks.  We could maybe not go to that lake in a neighboring state this summer.  That could wait.

And then, maybe we would have had this thing under control enough to think about restarting the school year.  We could start later then we normally do and maybe go farther into the summer, in hopes of a vaccine by January.  We could do some sort of small class sizes, everyone with masks and the desks spread out, with kids coming in in stages so that all of them get some sort of in-person instruction and we could make sure they have the technology to work at home a lot of days, or indefinitely, if we had to shut down again.

There are a lot of things that could have been done.  But, they didn't do it.  People simply couldn't behave themselves.  Everyone did the minimum and shot out of the house the minute that they could.  And now, our numbers are crazy and everyone wants their kids to go right back into those classrooms, even though most of society only added to the problem we are having now, instead of doing the right thing.

Alec got sent back to work a couple of weeks ago.  Since then, the circle of people I know with COVID has narrowed.  Before, it was stories I read in the newspaper.  I didn't disbelieve it, but it wasn't anyone I knew.  Since then, a store in the market where Alec works had to close because of a COVID positive case.  The restaurant where my niece and sister work had to close down two locations, because of COVID positive cases.  My niece's best friend got sent home because someone tested positive in the bar he manages.  A friend from college had to close down two of his restaurants because of positive cases.  And then, a close friend of mine contracted it in late June.   The circle is closing.

School starts in the fall, our in Georgia terms, in a little more than two weeks.  My district has not released a plan, but I anticipate full roll out, without even limitations on mask-wearing.  I could spend a lot of time discussing that, but I'm too tired right now.

It's been really hot.  I jogged through the park anyway, with my mask, trying to run some of this out of me.  I heard the man, the whistling man, in the park.  I saw him on his bike, whistling to the trees, to the air, to the world.  I could hear him for blocks.

*Lyrics, Kid Cudi, Pursuit of Happiness