stevenpiziks (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
stevenpiziks) wrote2020-03-14 10:55 pm
stevenpiziks) wrote2020-03-14 10:55 pm
Entry tags:
Closed Due to Plague
The governor has closed all the schools in Michigan due to COVID-19. I was figuring it would happen, though it happened much faster than I thought. Originally, I thought they'd close the schools a week before and a week after spring break. Then two cases were reported in Michigan, one in the county where I teach.
Word whipped around the school. Everyone was a little on edge.
Me, I'd already activated the Plague Alert System. At the beginning of every class, I went around with my big bottle of sanitizer and required everyone to use it while I watched. I told them that if they left class for any reason, they needed to use sanitizer when they came back, even if they swore they'd washed their hands while they were gone. Every day during first hour, I sprayed my classroom tables with bleach cleanser and had my students wipe them down. Multiple times per day, I sanitized the door handles, the light switch, my keyboard, and other surfaces.
One particular student scoffed loudly and pointedly. This was overkill. It's a media over-reaction. It's just the flu. I told him that his comments in no way reflected actual science. I also said that my husband is diabetic, which puts him in a high-risk group.
"I refuse to let you give the disease to me so I end up passing it on to him and risking his life," I said. "You're a low risk, and that's nice. But you aren't the only person in the world. So use the sanitizer."
This particular student left to use the restroom later that class. When he came back, I pointed him toward the sanitizer. He refused to use it. (By now, you could see that the rest of the class was ticked at him.) I reminded him firmly that he was required to do so in my classroom. So he pumped some into his hand, then flicked it back off. At that point, I ordered him to leave. He stormed out, vowing never to return. (I later learned he went down to see his counselor to demand a change in his schedule. She refused.) The rest of the class sighed in relief.
Meanwhile, the superintendent announced that school would be closed for Monday only. Teachers would come in to learn how to conduct online lessons in case we had to close school long-term. I thought this seemed a little . . . conservative. The virus was here, clearly had been here for quite a while. Why were we staying open?
That was Wednesday. On Thursday, Governor Whitmer convened a hasty press conference at which she caught everyone flat-footed by announcing all schools would close for three weeks, beginning Monday. I shouted in surprise. Michigan was, I believe, only the second state to close schools state-wide. As of this writing, eleven other states have followed Michigan's example.
Friday, schools were open for the final day, but our little family was dealing with some more bad news: Darwin's brother Shaun had died unexpectedly in his sleep. He was only 48. Darwin was shocked and broken-hearted. He was in Albion when he got the news. I asked him if he wanted me to come down there, but he said he was coming back to Wherever that evening. He insisted that I didn't need to call in for Friday, but when he arrived at our house that evening, he was in no state to be left alone, so I made arrangements for a sub.
For good measure, I kept Max home, too.
I kept an eye on what was happening at school through email and texting. The governor's announcement had caught everyone off-guard, and the schools were scrambling to figure out what to do. In the end, the superintendent announced that teachers would have a shortened version of the staff development workshop for online learning and then be released to conduct classes off-site.
I have the feeling we're going to closed for longer than three weeks.
I also wonder what anti-sanitizer guy is thinking.
I'm actually a little . . . lucky here, if that's the right word. For the next two weeks, my English 12 and Media Literacy students are working on their senior projects, and they were going to be in the computer lab all that time. So they'll basically be doing at home what they would have been doing in school. I only have to figure out how to introduce my freshmen to THE ODYSSEY online. Hmmm . . .
Word whipped around the school. Everyone was a little on edge.
Me, I'd already activated the Plague Alert System. At the beginning of every class, I went around with my big bottle of sanitizer and required everyone to use it while I watched. I told them that if they left class for any reason, they needed to use sanitizer when they came back, even if they swore they'd washed their hands while they were gone. Every day during first hour, I sprayed my classroom tables with bleach cleanser and had my students wipe them down. Multiple times per day, I sanitized the door handles, the light switch, my keyboard, and other surfaces.
One particular student scoffed loudly and pointedly. This was overkill. It's a media over-reaction. It's just the flu. I told him that his comments in no way reflected actual science. I also said that my husband is diabetic, which puts him in a high-risk group.
"I refuse to let you give the disease to me so I end up passing it on to him and risking his life," I said. "You're a low risk, and that's nice. But you aren't the only person in the world. So use the sanitizer."
This particular student left to use the restroom later that class. When he came back, I pointed him toward the sanitizer. He refused to use it. (By now, you could see that the rest of the class was ticked at him.) I reminded him firmly that he was required to do so in my classroom. So he pumped some into his hand, then flicked it back off. At that point, I ordered him to leave. He stormed out, vowing never to return. (I later learned he went down to see his counselor to demand a change in his schedule. She refused.) The rest of the class sighed in relief.
Meanwhile, the superintendent announced that school would be closed for Monday only. Teachers would come in to learn how to conduct online lessons in case we had to close school long-term. I thought this seemed a little . . . conservative. The virus was here, clearly had been here for quite a while. Why were we staying open?
That was Wednesday. On Thursday, Governor Whitmer convened a hasty press conference at which she caught everyone flat-footed by announcing all schools would close for three weeks, beginning Monday. I shouted in surprise. Michigan was, I believe, only the second state to close schools state-wide. As of this writing, eleven other states have followed Michigan's example.
Friday, schools were open for the final day, but our little family was dealing with some more bad news: Darwin's brother Shaun had died unexpectedly in his sleep. He was only 48. Darwin was shocked and broken-hearted. He was in Albion when he got the news. I asked him if he wanted me to come down there, but he said he was coming back to Wherever that evening. He insisted that I didn't need to call in for Friday, but when he arrived at our house that evening, he was in no state to be left alone, so I made arrangements for a sub.
For good measure, I kept Max home, too.
I kept an eye on what was happening at school through email and texting. The governor's announcement had caught everyone off-guard, and the schools were scrambling to figure out what to do. In the end, the superintendent announced that teachers would have a shortened version of the staff development workshop for online learning and then be released to conduct classes off-site.
I have the feeling we're going to closed for longer than three weeks.
I also wonder what anti-sanitizer guy is thinking.
I'm actually a little . . . lucky here, if that's the right word. For the next two weeks, my English 12 and Media Literacy students are working on their senior projects, and they were going to be in the computer lab all that time. So they'll basically be doing at home what they would have been doing in school. I only have to figure out how to introduce my freshmen to THE ODYSSEY online. Hmmm . . .