Brilliant … But Bouncy

I Do Not Wish To Opt In.

When I’m not worried about Dylan, I’m worried about Shane going back to school – except for one substantial difference: an online option.

The public schools in our area are still considering the various plans they’ve created since this pandemic started. They’ve announced two options, and published a couple of sample schedules.

One of the options is to hold school virtually. The plan is to have more Zoom-meeting-like classes, and fewer classes like they did in the spring. (In the spring, teachers basically just tossed out a video to watch and a related assignment, and hoped kids got the concepts.)

While the new online plan looks slightly more promising than the previous no-plan plan, the schools would like very much to have schools reopen for the whole county.

This, of course, is impossible.

So: the “hybrid” plan groups students into smaller groups – Groups A, B and C – and suggests that each 1/3 of the students will go to Periods 1-4 in the morning twice a week, then Periods 5-8 in the afternoon twice a week, with one day of online school for teacher check-ins (tentatively Wednesdays).

They’ve decided to “phase in” each group of students, starting with the youngest kids in each school – i.e., the kindergarteners, the sixth graders in middle school, and the freshmen in high school. Shane isn’t scheduled to be in school – even two days a week – until November, because as a junior, Shane’s in the “Phase 3” group.

They haven’t finalized any schedules, but the samples are interesting.

Perhaps most interesting is that, to comply with the state’s social distancing regulations, the schools will only be offering bus service to 12 children per bus. And they’ve suggested that elementary school children should have first dibs for bus service.

How will the other 100,000 students get to school, I wonder?

My favorite part – and truly the best thing – is that parents have the option of keeping students home. We get to choose whether we want to “opt in” to this well-constructed but ludicrous plan, if it’s instituted.

And I do not wish to opt in.

Shane would like to go to school. He wants very, very, very much to go to school. He wants to be with 1/3 of his friends and take 1/2 of his classes and attend school for 4/5 of the week.

But to me, that’s like saying, “Since reopening didn’t quite put us over the edge with another spike of coronavirus cases, let’s send the kids to school and see if they can get it!”

So – since we’ve gone this far to stay safe – if I have the option, I would like him to stay home and work virtually.

And since Shane is under 18, I do have the option. He can stay home until he turns 18, or until there’s a vaccine. I’m good with either.

Young People Are Causing the Spikes.

Dylan is in Texas, where coronavirus is ravaging the state. He’s there visiting his girlfriend, staying with her family, and staying home, at her house, while her family does the same.

It’s nerve-wracking, but I am handling it. I know he’s safe. I know he’s being responsible. From what I’ve seen in the news, Dylan’s in the minority amongst teens in this country. He wears a mask; he goes nowhere, except inside his own car. He washes or uses hand sanitizer constantly.

Yet in a month, Dylan is supposed to move back to Nashville, where he will be returning to college. In Nashville, this weekend’s spike of coronavirus cases was so high, no one should even travel there.

It’s obvious that the young people are causing the spikes in cases around the country. All of us “old” people know it. WKRN-TV (Nashville’s local news station) spells it out:

“We can put all the testing out there, we can put all the restrictions out there, but if people let their guard down which is what is happening, and they’re being selfish and they are causing this virus to get rampant in our city,” Dr. Alex Jahangir, chair of the Metro Coronavirus Task Force told News 2. … The average age of those testing positive in Nashville is now 25 to 34 years old and Jahangir says it’s because of complacency.

When the college kids get back to town, I bet the age drops to 18.

The charts for Davidson County, where Dylan is expected to return, show a youthful population out of control. Tourism is up. And Nashville – not just the Country Music Capital of the World anymore – is a serious party town. I’ve never seen so many drunks in one city in my life. It’s like spring break in Daytona – only without a beach in the background.

Worse yet, thousands of students from Dylan’s college have decided that, to “protect” themselves, they will move off campus.

So those students won’t be eating as many meals from the cafeteria, and they won’t be confronted with other students inside the dorms.

Most of them will still have roommates, because it’s too expensive to live in an apartment alone. So how does this help anyone?

Because those students will be shopping at the local grocery stores, visiting the local drug stores, getting takeout from the local restaurants – and doing God-knows-what-else in Nashville… then going to class on campus, and bringing all those germs with them.

Dylan’s plan is to stay inside his apartment – with his three roommates – and only visit his girlfriend – who is living with three other roommates. So he’ll only have contact with all of his roommates, and all of the people those roommates contact, and his girlfriend and all of her roommates and all of the people they contact. So … just about 1,000 people. On any given day.

Unless they come into contact with someone who’s recently walked 500 yards into Nashville proper, like an apartment-dweller. Then it’s about 10,000 people.

And the college just surges forward, making plans, saying they will clean the lobbies more regularly, and require masks for the students and professors and administrators. (According to locals, only about 50% of the people in Nashville are wearing the required masks.)

Oh, and the college is prepping one floor of one building as a “quarantine” area, for students who test positive, so they have somewhere to recover.

And hopefully to not die.

We Are Now Fully Open!

People are still refusing to wear masks.

There are people allowing their children to go without masks. Yesterday I took a walk in the park in the evening, and the place was mobbed. There was a full-team soccer practice on the soccer field. Two soccer players were wearing masks – around their necks.

There were two baseball fields with teams practicing. On one field, everyone was socially distanced because, well, that’s how you play baseball. But no one was wearing a mask.

On the other field, there was a line of maybe ten little leaguers – all under the age of 8 – sitting knee to knee, on the ground, listening to the coach. The coach, of course, was not wearing a mask.

A couple of adults stood nearby, presumably “helping” with little league practice: no masks. Is that helpful?

In Maryland, we are fortunate to have our COVID numbers dropping. Our governor was swift to take action and careful to enforce rules. I wish I could say the general population was equally swift and careful, but that same park was teeming with people until the minute Maryland finally closed its parks.

Yesterday I drove past a sign for a restaurant/bar way out in the country. The sign announced: WE ARE NOW FULLY OPEN!

It was the exact same place I’d seen with people laughing and drinking on the wraparound porch after the pandemic suggested that places be shut down. I wanted to spray paint over their new sign: YOU ARE NOW FULLY STUPID!

From what I saw yesterday, our numbers are going to go back up.

Meanwhile in Tennessee, where Dylan goes to college, the parents of his classmates are saying, “I’m not worried at all” about their children, or other students, being careless in the fall.

Not worried AT ALL?!?

Teenagers are holding parties in Alabama to see who gets the virus first! Do you even know this?!

I’m not debilitated by worry (anymore) but who is actually NOT worried? Who can say they don’t care about this disease that’s killed hundreds of thousands of people?

I think the only people who can honestly say they’re “not worried” are people who only care about themselves.

And that’s what’s so frustrating about the political divisiveness, the stupidity of the current administration, and the carelessness of whatever parents sent their children to little league practice – and whatever coach sat them down in such a tiny area. It’s not so much that a mask will save lives. It’s that if you’re not worried about a deadly disease, there’s something wrong with you.

I’m not happy about staying indoors, stuck. I want to go do things again. I’m so sick of washing my hands. But I’m not going to stop just because I’ve suddenly decided that it’s more important to go out and play than it is to keep the world safe.

It’s hard to write these days. I’m so, so angry. I’ve spent a lot of time looking through things that I wrote in the past, and that was depressing. Between the depression and the anger, I want to crawl into a hole. I don’t want to write.

BUT REALLY?!? You sent your kids to little league practice?!? Who does that?!?

You want to laugh and drink with your friends? You’re sending your kids back to college in a place where the numbers are rising like lightning? And you aren’t worried – not even a little?

Maybe you should hold a nice COVID party of your own, mask-free. Just STAY AWAY FROM MY FAMILY.

Just. So. Angry.

I’ll Lose a Year of My Life.

After a New York Times article blew the roof off the misperception that college life isn’t likely to be normal in the fall, I couldn’t help but forward it to Dylan.

Having lived through four years of college myself – a time which was irreplaceable in making me who I am – I’ve been wondering if Dylan shouldn’t … maybe … take a gap year now.

So I forwarded the article to him, along with the following note:

Think about this: the time that you’ve been home since spring break is LESS than the time you will be at school – the difference being, you will be at school with 8,000 other students, none of whom are wearing masks (or required to) – AND you will not be able to have band practice, or choral practice, or even audition for an a cappella group. You won’t be able to volunteer for stuff, or meet with any clubs, or try Ultimate Frisbee. You won’t be getting to know new people; you’ll be lucky to see the people in your own class.

And classes are likely to all be online – which means you will be stuck in your dorm (no guarantees that you’ll be able to visit other dorm rooms) on your computer for every class. You will be in the caf three times a day – it would be insane to travel off campus to go get fast food, especially given the city’s disregard for regulations. There won’t be any hanging out in the dorm lobby, but you might get to socially distance outside. Except you won’t see anyone else social distancing, because they won’t care. They will think, “I’m not sick.” And eventually you will believe that, too, and you’ll stop doing what it takes to stay healthy.

Worst of all, you will completely miss a WHOLE YEAR of the four best years of your life, because it’s not going to be as good as it should be. You’ll be locked away from all the fun that college has to offer.

Please seriously consider taking a gap year.

Dylan’s (lengthy, thought-provoking) response wasn’t enthusiastic about gap years. His friends will be at college, and they’re all going back. His age group is unlikely to die from coronavirus. He feels confident – like most teenagers do – that he’s invincible. And he’s volunteered to self-quarantine when he comes home, so as not to give anything to the rest of his family.

My favorite – and most influential – line from Dylan’s texts about his decision is this one:

“Maybe I’ll lose a year of what college has the potential to be, but if I stay here with everything on hold, I’ll lose a year of my life.”

Well said, Son. Profound, mature – and correct.

No gap year, again, for Dylan.

And for once in his life, I am ready to trust him to do the right thing.

So What About School…?

No one is really talking about it now, but there really aren’t any plans for Shane – and the rest of the county’s public school system – to return to school this fall.

They are assuming that kids will go back; everyone wants things to return to normal by September. The calendar is still posted. It’s still a matter under discussion.

But it doesn’t seem likely to me, as states – including ours – reopen. Coronavirus cases are spiking since Memorial Day all over the country. There’s a possible “side ailment” that affects kids, popping up in New York City, seemingly related to COVID.

Germany was the gold standard for what to do and how to do it, at least when the virus first started making its way around the world. But even Germany is having trouble since reopening – serious trouble. But their kids are testing themselves at home – imagine! – and proceeding to school without masks if they test negative.

And what about what happened in Korea? The country that did its best to track and trace, keeping folks healthy or home – until some guy went to a nightclub – suddenly had cases spike again. Korea opened cautiously, with social distancing and masks in place. And then hundreds of schools closed again, because their children were at risk.

So when my county executive sent an email claiming that we’re now starting phase two of reopening, I silently decided that we will not be going to the capacity-conscious swimming pools this summer. We won’t be shopping in our local malls. Nor will we be heading to our local movie theater, even though we’ll have two seats between our group and the next one. (What about the people coughing and sneezing directly behind us?)

We won’t be doing any indoor dining, either, no matter how limited the capacity. We won’t go to the beach, which seems like a great idea – but is overflowing with people already.

So what about school in two months? Will Shane be able to have a junior year? Will classes start on time? Will they be online? Will school buildings be open? Will Shane even meet his teachers in person?

We’ll just have to wait and see.

And I’m okay with that. I am in no hurry.

He’s Learning to Organize His Time.

Dylan took two classes during “Maymester.”

While he was originally supposed to be taking classes as he traveled through Italy, he switched his schedule around to get some graduation requirements completed.

The term was only three weeks long. For Dylan, this was a good thing. He only had to stay “caught up” for 20 days. And since his worst thing is procrastination, maybe it taught him how not to procrastinate.

Well – a little. His final paper is due in two days, and he still hasn’t written it.

At least it might give him a sense of accomplishment, so that he realizes how much easier life is when it’s taken one piece at a time.

After the first two weeks, he was breaking up his work and setting goals for himself for each day. On weekends, he felt like he deserved to take breaks – but he needed that time to do whatever work he hadn’t done during the week. So he goofed off for hours and hours, with the thought looming in the back of his brain that his work wasn’t done yet.

I know people who still live like this. I don’t know how they survive.

Still, it’s fun watching Dylan. He’s not only grown up this year, but he’s actually learning to organize his time. A few days ago, he wrote a whole page of his paper.

It’s not so fun when I decide to “remind” him about his classwork.

“I got this, Mom,” he says – as nicely as possible. Translation: just leave me alone!

Compare this to high school, when I would “remind” him about his classwork. He would practically roar at me: “I DON’T NEED YOUR HELP!”

But for Dylan, time organization is the most important thing he needs to learn in his lifetime. His time can be so disorganized, in spite of my efforts, that he completely forgets that he’s supposed to do anything at all.

Fortunately, he really wants to stay in college.

Dylan’s not a pro yet, and he may never do it the way I do – which is fine. But he’s growing up and learning that he’s capable of getting through things, one step at a time.

Now. If he would just finish that paper.

There Was Never Any Time Before.

The thing about staying at home, having no schedule, skipping vacations is: everything I once ignored is now magnified and impossible to ignore.

For example, our 16-year-old stained carpet became unbearable. Along with it, the obnoxious (also 16-year-old) paint colors on our walls became … obnoxious. The cheap vinyl floors we’d chosen for our toddlers became embarrassing.

I don’t really care about appearances. But when we canceled our vacation and Bill suggested we spend our vacation money to fix up the house, we ended up with new paint, carpet and floors: the equivalent of a new house.

We did all of it with extreme gratitude that Bill had a job. And then we reorganized and prepared to donate a full room’s worth of stuff which, hopefully, we’ll be able to donate soon.

But fixing the house isn’t the only result of this pandemic: I’m noticing everything. For the first time in forever, I pay attention to the weather: the temperature, the clouds, the extreme green of spring. I am conscious of the birds, the squirrels, the rabbits, the deer in a new way. Outdoor life is even more precious to me now.

I’ve got vegetables growing in pots on the porch, and I check on them daily. Last year, our tomato plants were virtually ignored and didn’t do well. This year, I have seen every new sprout as it pops.

There was never any time before to notice things.

Dylan and Shane, too, have taken on new ventures. Shane has started researching subjects other than amusement parks, and he’s gotten better at Jeopardy. He’s started a regular workout routine, and he’s drumming again. He’s revamping his whole room for the first time ever.

Dylan has been working on new music. He and Shane just released an online album of comedic songs – some with real potential. They each wrote their own lyrics; some songs are quite funny. They spent almost as much time naming the band as they did recording their songs. The result is an album called Reverse Psychology by their band, Glass of Milk.

Dylan not only finished spring semester, he took additional online courses in May. With those complete, he – like many others – became enraged about police brutality and the racism in this country. But Dylan didn’t protest – we’re still in an area that’s barely open. Instead, he deleted all of his social media app’s. This gave him more time to do everything and he’s been hanging out with us, and doing more productive things, ever since.

Both boys have started bicycling again, although Shane really started the movement. After dinner, Shane would say, “I’m going out for a spin,” and disappear for an hour. After Dylan deleted his app’s, he started biking with Shane. They go so often, in fact, that I’ve had to walk the dog all by myself.

This is fine, since the weather is glorious, and I’m spending quality time with Loki, who is still learning how to belong with people. And of course, there’s the high value of being outside.

In fact, life is more precious to me now. I am so aware that we’re lucky, that we’re alive, that we’re healthy. I am so aware that what matters is more than grades or jobs. Nothing else matters when there’s a threat to health.

What matters most is family. I miss my job. I miss vacations, restaurants, movies. I miss being able to just sit and talk with my friends. But as a family, we are making the most of our time together.

And that’s simply beautiful.

What Will Campus Look Like?

Dylan’s college emailed its students: We need to know if you’re going to live on campus in the fall.

I understand why they need to know; their task is an impossible one. Still, this is an impossible choice. To what would we send Dylan back?

I wrote this letter in response:

My son is trying to decide how to answer the survey about fall residency. It makes sense that you need to know now, so that you can move on with plans for the fall, to figure out campus life in this impossible situation. I don’t envy your work!

But we, too, are stuck now. Between the protests and the beginnings of reopening, some of us are hunkered down awaiting the second wave of COVID-19. College football teams that decided to practice have had players test positive already, for example. You know all of this; I don’t need to preach to the choir.

In spite of the uncertainty, we need to make a decision now. We would LOVE to send my son back to college in the fall and have him live with his new roommates, eat at the cafeteria, play in his band, and play frisbee in the grass. He wanted to audition for an a cappella group, and he’d thought about being in a choir. But who knows if ANY of that will be safe?

And what will campus look like? What are we deciding, exactly? It’s unfair to ask us if we’re coming back when we have absolutely no idea to WHAT the students are coming back. Can you answer any of these questions, even in a vague way?

* Will students be required to stay in their dorm rooms when not in class?
* Will there be a mask requirement? (Where we live, you can’t leave the house without a mask; it is not that way in your city.)
* Will there be choirs and a cappella groups?
* Will bands be allowed to practice in the dorms?
* What measures will be put in place at the cafeteria? 
* Will it be grab-and-go, or sit-and-eat?
* Will all classes be online or will students still be in the classrooms? And how will we know who will be doing what?

Perhaps most importantly for parents: can a student take a “gap year” until this blows over, or even a semester off, WITHOUT losing scholarships and financial aid?

My son desperately wants to go back and be with his friends. We ALL want a sense of normalcy again. But given that we have no idea when the second wave will be, OR what Belmont is planning to do to combat that second wave, this is an absolutely impossible decision to make without at least some idea of campus plans for the fall living situation.

Please, whatever you can tell us would be helpful.

My son said to me last night, “I’m not worried about me getting it; I think I’ll be fine. I’m worried about giving it to someone I love.” He’s got a father past retirement age, two grandparents who live very close, and a mother with an autoimmune disorder. What on earth do we tell him?

The provost wrote back immediately – which is astounding – and said that his own son goes to Belmont and lives on campus.

That was enough for me.

Sophomore Year is Officially Over.

Yesterday we had a new experience: drive-thru yearbook pickup.

Shane’s school organized a two-day book return for kids whose textbooks were at home. Everyone wore masks; students and parents had to remain in their cars.

One might think that this would be a huge, exciting time with a line of cars waiting around the block. But no: we pulled right up. A masked staff member came out and took the book, and took his name off the list.

Shane only had one book for his seven classes. Considering it wasn’t an English book, this concerned me. But they didn’t seem surprised. Things are different than they were when I was young! We had to read those books all the time. Nowadays: not so much.

In exchange for his AP Gov book, Shane was able to pick up his yearbook. They have been doing an online signing app throughout the school, and hopefully people have signed Shane’s yearbook.

We waved goodbye to the nice lady and drove around the corner to the drama section of the parking lot. Since there was only a week left – Tech Week, in fact – before the play, all the students got their Hairspray cast and crew t-shirts.

This year, some wonderful soul decided to list the names of all the students involved on the backs of the shirts. This was such a touching gesture, especially for the seniors, who will never get to perform Hairspray as expected.

Shane also picked up his clothes – costume items for the various parts that he played – and was dismayed to tell me about the hot pink jumpsuit he’d been planning to wear, but that I would never see.

Then, more quickly than we’d come, Shane and I left the parking lot. We took off our masks, got out our hand sanitizer, and chatted a bit on the way home. It was fast – too fast for a year filled with sophomore experiences.

But Shane was just as happy to go home.

Sophomore year is officially over for him. Shane has finished every assignment, and has fantastic grades again – but he will just get a “pass” for the quarter. This, of course, will mean he’s getting straight A’s this semester – which is stupendous.

Now we just have to worry about next year: how it will be, where it will be, what it will be.

Everything about school is going to be tough for awhile, I think.