TL;DR: I made words out of feelings.

Oh, friends. That nice pretty schedule I made for myself last week is a good reminder of the difference between the plans you make and the reality you find yourself in.

What I hoped for: time each day to sink into book revisions, to find rhythm and routine in teaching and other obligations, to be sure I got out of the house a couple times a day for a walk, to stay as well as I could so I could support others.

What happened: day one I went for my run in the morning, spent the day trying to get into my plan and sometimes succeeding, then went for my afternoon walk and sprained my ankle. Which means for the last six days I've been babying that (not enough at first, of course, which I'm paying for now) and going stir-crazy because I'm lacking a safe but satisfying way to exercise.

It also became rapidly apparent that I'm going to need a slightly different schedule than I expected when all work has to be done with a screen. I spend a lot of time with screens already, I thought, but I wasn't prepared for just how draining it is. So my attention span seems to be shorter, which means I'm adjusting my expectations for work: this week I'm planning each day as I go, and putting tasks into 90-minute or two-hour blocks instead of three hour blocks. I'm keeping meetings and office hours away from the afternoons before I teach as much as possible to preserve my energy and focus, and building an hour break before each three-hour class. We'll see if that helps.

I'm finding that it feels like we've been doing this for years already when it's only, technically, been about a week. Remembering how little time has passed is really hard, but it's also crucial; it's okay not to have figured this out yet, it's still new. I still spend an insane amount of time each day trying to decide whether or not I need to put in grocery orders, how far in advance, what do I really need vs. what might be available, etc. I spend time worried and anxious about my situation and that of my family; then I spend more time feeling guilty for being worried and anxious when so many people are facing far more dire situations (so far) than we are. All the feelings are real, none of them feel valid.

Today we found out we're online for the rest of the semester. It's so hard on so many to know they'll finish their last year online, or that they'll miss out on bidding farewell to their friends, mentors, and faculty in person. That's huge. And there's a lot that's huge right now.

Our students are amazing though. They rally around each other and around us like champs; they come to class, they love each other in all the safe ways they can, they uplift each other. They read silly old plays with us and organize social hours over Zoom and embrace the imperfection of everything around them with grace. And that's not easy, I know it's not, but they do it. And so can we.

This post doesn't have a thesis, and it really doesn't have any logical structure to it. It's truly a terrible example of anything but stream of consciousness, and it's not even a good example of that because it's neither interesting enough nor sufficiently opaque. But whatever, I still wrote a thing. That's the battle today.