I’m about to run out of spoons. I eat a lot of things with spoons, more than with knife and fork, it seems. All I see in my dishwasher are bowls and spoons, so I’ll have to wash up a few to see me through before I have a full dishwasher load that’s worth running.
But there is also another way I’m probably about to run out of spoons. The metaphor usually applies to people with a chronic illness that eats away at their energy levels, or capability to engage in “normal” social and daily activity. (Whatever normal meant before this hit us). I’ve been on high alert since coming back from spring break last week Monday. Here are the “spike” moments:
- AAS2020 was cancelled on Monday (9 March). A wise decision from the Association for Asian Studies, because Boston was quickly building into an epicenter due to a previous conference.
- Tuesday night (10 March) we learned that our College would go to remote learning as of Wednesday March 18. Face to face classes to end on Friday March 13, just a couple of days to make meaningful contact with students before we’re all working remotely.
- Friday evening (13 March) I was in the queue at the supermarket when I randomly pulled out my phone and checked the news, only to learn that we’re now in a National Emergency officially. That explained the total lack of toilet roll, and the run on non-perishables throughout the store.
- Monday (16 March) we learned that the governor proclaimed a state of emergency for the whole of Pennsylvania. Liquor stores are to close (that’s a real sign to me!), together with other “non-essential” stores.
- Today (Tue, 17 March) I went to my office and brought back as much as I can, and as I think I need for teaching the rest of the semester. It’s not official, but we’re not coming back, I can sense that much.
I totally get why we need to do this. If you don’t please check out my slide deck with the first three slides that explain all you need to see the seriousness of the situation. We need to flatten the curve. But I am not used to working through this much news at such fast pace. It’s all going faster than I mentally can cope with.
So I did what I see most teachers do: focus on what we can control, and focus on our courses, on finding ways to be there for our students. I played around with Zoom videos for pre-recording lecture segments. I went to training sessions. I attended webinars. I thought about the structure for my websites and how I can stay in touch with my students in more than just a “do this, post that, respond to this, zoom in then” kind of way. And I am staying in touch, looking through groupme chats, responding to emails, checking in on the slack channel for one class. Checking in on friends and colleagues. Sharing resources and tips with colleagues, and educators elsewhere. And that’s not even talking about the final trips this weekend to get comfort items from stores that will now shut: a massive jigsaw, wine, beer, notebooks for journalling. (I have enough yarn to last me through a pandemic I always thought. We’re about to find out!)
And I know I can’t go on at this kind of frantic pace, on not enough sleep, while all the time in the background I feel the coronavirus humming away it’s deadly tune of invisible contamination, capable of paralysing world-class health systems in a matter of weeks. It’s eating away at my spoons, too. They don’t replenish sufficiently overnight. I sleep well, yet upon reflection it appears my sleep is restless, interrupted, or filled with strange dreams that don’t bring solace.
I need to find ways to claim back spoons. Here’s what I know works:
- I minimize my exposure to news: none before 12pm; no twitter either. It’s great.
- I check the numbers on this site: https://www.worldometers.info/coronavirus/ No panic, no commentary, just raw data (they will still scare the living daylights out of you)
- I meditate using a podcast, or listen to lectures from Tara Brach. There is something I find very soothing and calming in her approach to topics of fear, discomfort, growth. (YMMV)
- One flute lesson has been cancelled, because I did not get a chance to even touch my flute since last Tuesday’s lesson. But I intend to get back to it: practicing daily, and remote lessons. It’s another form of meditation: you can’t play well if your mind is elsewhere. It’s hardcore mindfulness because the flute is harsh but fair mistress in many ways.
- I have missed two runs so far in my schedule; yesterday, and today. I need to get back on the schedule for as long as we’re allowed to move outside. Outside air is good; I went for a long walk instead.
- Writing: this blog, daily briefing to students (I hope they turn into the digital equivalent of lunchbox notes), and a personal journal written on paper and ink. Writing is processing.
- Listening to music: I plan to tune into the Met Opera’s free broadcasts (if you can get it, it seems to be incredibly popular), and you can now also enjoy the Digital Concert Hall of the Berlin Philharmoniker for free until the end of the month.
Please take some time to think through the strategies for replenishing your spoons. It looks like we’re in this for the long haul. Your students need you, and they need you to be there more than ever. To use a different metaphor: just like on the airplane, put on your own oxygen mask first, before helping others. And go for a walk while you still can.
