I got to talk about skunk farts today at work.
My job takes glamour to a whole new level!
I got to talk about skunk farts today at work.
My job takes glamour to a whole new level!
Technically, growing hair like Rapunzel isn't necessarily a feature of pandemic life, but I suspect that many of us had at least a brief period when it felt like it was. In many areas, including mine, salons and barbershops were forced to stay closed for a while during the beginning of the pandemic. I remember reading that there was a run on products like hair clippers and hair dye, as people struggled to maintain their hair at home. Pre-pandemic, I typically got a haircut every couple months, and I don't dye my hair. I had just had a haircut in February 2020, and I figured I'd maybe miss a haircut and then get back into my usual hair care routine.
In my area, salons and barbershops reopened in the summer of 2020, albeit with restrictions. A lot of people jumped at the chance for some professional hair maintenance. I decided to hold off. I had become more concerned about the coronavirus than I was in March 2020, when things initially shut down. And there were other risks I was taking that felt more important to me, like going back to my gym, looking to buy a home, and occasionally eating out. I decided to wait and make sure there weren't any major outbreaks linked to salons. Besides--I was low maintenance and could keep wearing a ponytail for a few more weeks.
As we moved into late summer and early fall, the number of cases rose again. I also moved, which brought its own set of risks (ahem, maskless movers). I decided I'd better keep holding off. As time went on, my haircare moved from ponytails to messy braids (I never became a proficient braider in all that time).
Of course, winter brought a lot of cases and deaths. Plus, by early winter, vaccines were on the horizon. After having waited all that time, I decided in only made sense to hold off on getting a haircut until I was fully vaccinated.
Finally, two weeks after receiving my second shot, I got my first haircut in over a year! Scott went with me, having also foregone haircuts for all of that time. His hair was the longest it had ever been in his life, so his transformation was arguably more dramatic than mine.
Nonetheless, it had probably been a good 20 years since my hair had been that long. When it was dry, it hung well past my shoulders; when it was wet, it reached the middle of my back easily. I hated the feeling of wet hair against my back after a shower. I hated having to braid it every day or risk it getting tangled. I hated the amount of time it took to comb it out. I also felt like I didn't look like myself. The long hair was like a younger version of myself, transplanted on an older face and body.
It may be a small and somewhat shallow victory, but getting a haircut was a considerable boost to my spirits. I don't know what the "new normal" will look like for us all as we hopefully move out of constant risk, but even having six inches chopped off my hair made me feel like I was moving in that direction.
One of the great debates during the pandemic has been what to do about the schools. I think many people agreed that closing them at the beginning of the pandemic was a smart decision. After all, we had very little information at that point about how Covid was transmitted. But I also think most of us thought we would ride out the school year with virtual education, but then have the students return in the fall. In my area, most (if not all) of the public school districts initially had plans for the students to return for hybrid education in the fall, generally with a plan for one day of asynchronous virtual learning for everyone, and then everybody going to the actual school for two days so they could have half the student body attending at a time. As Covid cases rose during the summer, they had to revisit those plans. The public schools in my area opened virtually in the fall.
Since then, the reopening process has been controversial. I work as a contractor for one district in my area. They had initially started a phased reopening in the fall, with groups of students coming back in relative order of need for in-person instruction. They had to pull back as cases rose again. After winter break, everyone was initially virtual again. They have since phased in reopening again, to great controversy. On the one hand, there were concerns that virtual learning was just not working for some students, and that students with existing struggles (special needs, challenging family circumstances, etc.) were at a particular disadvantage. On the other hand, people have legitimate concerns about getting sick. Data showing that transmission levels in schools are low when mitigation measures are in place is small comfort if mitigation measures are difficult to enforce (try enforcing social distancing and mask-wearing around preschoolers, for instance).
I can really see both sides of the issue, and I haven't been able to fault anyone for having strong feelings about it one way or another. But the reopening that I have seen in my district has been eye-opening, to say the least. In my district, parents were given a choice of whether to return their children to in-person instruction. Of my current caseload, less than half are returning to in-person instruction this year. Of those who are, most of them will only be in-person two days per week.
In order to accommodate as many family's wishes as possible, many kids are switching teachers mid-year. At least a few of the students on my caseload have been pretty unhappy about that, and especially for kids who are already struggling for any reason, it seems that switching teachers in the middle of the year is counterproductive. It also puts an additional burden on teachers, needing to get to know a whole new set of kids in the middle of the year.
There is also the question of what actually happens in the school. I went into a kindergarten classroom recently and saw a bunch of kids sitting in desks spaced apart, with a taped-off square for each one. Every kid was on their laptop, watching a teacher do something. It looked like their at-home virtual learning had just been transplanted into the classroom. I've also seen the very real challenges of trying to simultaneously engage students who are in the room and students who are learning from home.
I think the bottom line is that there is a lot we just can't predict. We can't predict whether reopening schools under these less than ideal circumstances will benefit students enough to justify the risks. We can't predict what sorts of gaps in learning will become evident once our lives return to some version of normal. I'm hoping that while we're still stuck in this limbo we can move beyond whether schools are open or closed, or whether the learning is in-person, virtual, synchronous, or asynchronous, and think more about how to help kids learn as well as possible under any circumstances.
Well, in spite of the complete lack of confidence I expressed in my last post, I received my second dose of the Pfizer vaccine yesterday! I purposely scheduled it for a Friday so I would have the weekend to recover if I had any side effects. So far, the side effects haven't been bad, and I tend to think I'm beyond the point at which they would be likely to get worse. I'm feeling achy and tired today--if I hadn't had this shot yesterday, I would probably think I was coming down with something--but I'm still functioning.
I also feel relieved and grateful. I think most of us have spent the past year worrying about the consequences of ordinarily inconsequential decisions (was the weekly trip to the grocery store going to land me or someone else in the ICU?). Now (or at least a couple weeks from now, after I've had a chance to build up immunity) these small things will probably feel less consequential.
Many thing will stay the same. I will still be careful to wear masks, especially since we don't know if the vaccine will prevent us from being carriers. Most people I know have not been fully vaccinated yet (or even received their first shot), so it will still be a while before I can socialize in person. But I think in a couple of weeks, I can feel safe getting my first haircut since last February, and maybe even eat in restaurants again. It feels like good progress.
Vaccines have always seemed like the light at the end of the tunnel for this pandemic. We spent months knowing that scientists were working hard to develop them, and that thousands of brave volunteers were participating in clinical trials. It seems now like nothing short of a miracle that we have two highly effective vaccines approved in the US with several other promising candidate yet to be approved.
The giant caveat to this, of course, is that vaccine doses cannot be produced quickly enough to keep up with demand. The fact that the vaccines currently approved in the US require two doses further complicates issues (not looking a gift horse in the mouth, mind you--I'm very grateful for any vaccines we can have!).
The solution has been identifying higher priority groups who should be vaccinate first. Unfortunately, we do not yet have enough doses even for these groups. With limited doses and sky-high demand, it feels that the vaccine roll-out has degenerated into a complicated free-for-all.
I think Scott and I can serve as a very small case study of some of the things that can happen with determining vaccine eligibility and actually receiving the shots. We both live in one district and work in schools in another. As people working in K-12 schools, we have been placed in a higher priority group to receive vaccines. Scott works for this district as an employee; I work for them as a contractor.
The whole business of working for them as a contractor has been the root of a lot of aggravation. When this district first partnered with a local hospital to provide vaccines, I only found out through Scott because I am not included on all of the email distros. In theory, we would be able to sign up and use our employee badges as proof of employment. As a contractor, for reasons I cannot even begin to understand, I have been issued a badge designating me as a volunteer.
On a side note, is there anything that will give parents more confidence than thinking that an unpaid volunteer is diagnosing and treating their children's communication disorders? But I digress.
At that point, I contacted HR to ask for a letter confirming that I work in the schools. They initially refused to help me, but ultimately relented when I escalated the matter up the chain. So, I had my letter, and Scott and I both initially had vaccine appointments for tomorrow.
Then the hospital that was supposed to vaccinate us ran out of doses last week and cancelled appointments. I don't know how that happened, but I'm guessing the mythical national vaccine stockpile may have played a role in their miscalculation.
A couple days later, they got more doses and issued invitations for people to sign up for appointments. Except...Scott received one and I didn't. I escalated this up the chain again, and this time they were a lot less helpful ("dismissive" is really the word that comes to my mind). I'm happy to say he has an appointment tomorrow, but concerned that I don't.
In another email that I didn't get as a contractor (and Scott showed me), the district where we work said they would send an email to employees who were not invited to reschedule vaccinations to confirm that they still wanted the vaccine and then take next steps. My question at this point is whether I (as a lowly contractor, rather than a high-fallutin' employee) will actually receive this email, or whether I will be completely shut out of the process. As of now, as someone working in a school, my only option is for the district where I work to arrange for me to be vaccinated--I can't just take my letter confirming I work in the schools to a local pharmacy and arrange for an appointment that way.
So, the past few days have been an emotional rollercoaster for me, one that I suspect will continue for some time. I know I'm not even in the worst position. There are people who, in my opinion, are in risker occupations than mine who have not even been invited to start the process yet. But I dream about the day when vaccine supply is no longer an issue and all of our hopes aren't centered around being able to receive shots.
My job is currently mostly virtual, although that may change soon. Plenty has been said about the challenges of working and learning remotely, but under the circumstances, working in-person is likewise not a picnic.
I had to go into a school today to conduct a speech and language evaluation for a kid. First of all, as an issue entirely separate from the pandemic, evaluations are not my favorite part of the job, particularly ones that involve standardized assessments. I have yet to find a way to make a standardized assessment fun for anybody, and they sometimes drag on for an unreasonably long time.
With schools in the district where I work being virtual for now, conducting one of these evaluations involves coordinating with parents to bring their child to school. This always leaves open the possibility that they will be late or forget. Also, they may have scheduling constraints for pick-up that do not match the realities of the testing.
Also, of course, we have to use PPE while we do the testing. I'm pretty used to wearing masks, and I believe they are necessary, but they also prevent me from drinking water during a period of time when I have to do a lot of talking with a clear voice. I'm always parched by the time I'm done. I've been provided with what I think of as a crummy face shield (though I wonder how good they ever are), which is basically the equivalent of having to look through dirty glasses for the duration of the evaluation. Today, at the request of a parent, I had to also wear a plastic disposable gown and some sort of slippery plastic gloves.
So, imagine the scene...I'm sitting with a kid I've never met before, possibly boring him to the point of tears with standardized assessments. I'm getting a headache from dehydration and looking through a plastic sheet that is most definitely not transparent. The plastic gloves I'm wearing are so slippery I have trouble turning pages in the test books that I'm using to show the kid pictures for the assessment. And I'm straining to hear the kid's already quiet voice, which is muffled by his mask and the plexiglass barrier between us.
If we ever return to any approximation of "normal," so many things will feel so much easier than they are now.
One thing that has been clear since the beginning of the pandemic is that we won't be able to just resume life as it was. Too much has changed. In the worst cases, this has meant people dying prematurely of COVID-19 or suffering long term health problems. But many valued businesses have also closed, leaving employees without jobs and customers without the services they provided. We already know of a few favorite restaurants in our area that have closed, for example. But that didn't prepare me for how sad I would feel this morning when I heard that the Capitol Steps would be shutting down.
For the uninitiated, Capitol Steps is a wonderful political satire group that has been around since the 1980's. I became interested in them around middle school, when I became interested in politics and news events. My family used to play their radio shows on NPR, and I used to record them using blank cassette tapes, and then go back and transcribe the songs I particularly liked. There are some political events from years ago that I remember specifically because the Capitol Steps wrote songs about them.
I've been fortunate to have gone to several of their live performances. I don't recall exactly when I went to the last one, but I had already started grad school 2.0 by then, so it was within the past couple of years. Scott and I were talking about seeing another one in that elusive future time when such things may become possible again.
I've tried not to turn my blog into an extended political rant, but I have expressed some of my views about Trump on here before. I've been very disturbed by his presidency for reasons that go far beyond the fact that he and I belong to different political parties. But the fact that satire continued during the past four years gave me hope that things would ultimately be okay, and gave me much-needed laughs. I could use some laughs now, as a matter of fact, having been swinging between sadness and anger since last week's insurrection at the Capitol. (Though to be fair, I think it would be hard to find a humorous angle there).
Capitol Steps, you will be sorely missed.