Last Friday, our governor extended the stay-at-home order for our state through May 15. It was not a surprise, since the models are predicting peak covid-19 cases here will occur in the next few weeks. I was actually in an online meeting, talking about the possibility, when the press conference was happening. Our area has not had an overwhelming number of cases yet, something like 1300 positive tests (but not everyone is being tested, of course) and "only" 33 deaths, so that's good since we're in the second-largest city in the state. Our largest city is being slammed, by all accounts, and is the third hottest area in the whole country now.
The new order allows some businesses to reopen soon, and permits people to golf and use their boats as long as they stay a safe distance apart. Face coverings are now required in public places (but BAM reports not everyone is complying at the grocery store he visits). I started wearing a mask for my morning walks and I'm the only person doing it. It might be unnecessary since I don't usually meet more than three or four other people at the park.
About a month ago, BAM and I were walking there early one Saturday morning and we came across a man in normal clothes (not uniformed) who was spray-painting arrows and one-way signs on the path to direct people travelling the loop all in the same direction. In some places the trail is only about a meter and a half wide, and it's raised over some streams and wetlands so people can't really keep two meters apart when passing each other. We kind of raised our eyebrows, but the arrows pointed in the direction we normally go, so no big deal. We still don't know if the man was a Parks & Rec employee or just a neighborhood vigilante. A few weeks later, a couple of plastic signs appeared at the ends of the trail that cuts through the loop, asking people to only cross in one direction. Again, it was my normal direction, so NBD. It seemed to me that people continued traveling both directions. Last week one day an older couple watching birds (they had binoculars) turned to tell me I was going the wrong way. And then I met two women who said they were confused by the arrows on the path. The next day the arrows were (mostly) painted over. I passed a man wearing a face mask and mittens who didn't speak but stepped off the trail into the grass and gestured emphatically at me. It dawned on me that something had changed. Maybe I was the one going the wrong way!
I was actually pretty upset by this thought. Angry. I have learned (slowly, over 40+ years) that my first reaction to loss of control in a situation is usually anger. Maybe that means I'm a bad person, maybe this is true for everyone but most people hide it better or get over it faster than I do. After being angry all day, I walked the loop in my usual direction the next morning, feeling defiant but also kind of frightened that I was breaking some rule I hadn't been aware of. This all made me feel so bad that the following day I walked the other direction, and I went on the part of the loop that I normally skip because it passes through the parking lot (playground, picnic area, ball field, and therefore more people). Sure enough, there was a big "Do Not Enter" sign posted and a small plastic arrow sign that asked people to go one way - opposite to my original direction. If it wasn't a global pandemic, I would complain to the P&R department that they can't just put up one sign in the parking lot and expect everyone to know what they're supposed to do. I enter the park through a fence at the end of my street and there are no signs at all around the rest of the trail. Anyway, now I'm walking the "correct" direction which requires going through the parking lot, and I'm maybe meeting fewer people on the trail itself. I don't feel particularly self-righteous when I do meet someone going the "wrong" way, I just pass quickly as I always did.
In other news, my colleagues at school are starting to get agitated about next fall semester. It seems like every conversation I've had lately has eventually come around to the topic. Honestly, I don't want to think about fall semester yet. Today is the last "official" day of spring semester classes, final exams start tomorrow, and I still have much to do. I don't have the brain to problem-solve what might or might not happen, when it will happen, or what I'll do about it if it happens. I really, really just want to get back into bed and stay there until I can retire. I am desperately counting the hours until finals are over, all the assignments are graded, and I can shut down for a week or so. I feel this way every year, so I know it's not even pandemic-related, I'm just too tired to deal with any more crap. This morning there was an "emergency" faculty vote by email on something stupid and then an energetic message chain suggesting all faculty taking a course on best practices for online teaching over the summer, just in case. Finally I couldn't take any more of that and I posted that I thought everyone should calm down and back off for a few weeks.
I hate that my fall classes might be online. I hate teaching online. I especially hate the thought of not doing labs next fall, or substituting some crappy online simulation or kitchen experiments. I can't bear the disappointment right now, maybe later, but not now.
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