Our admin staff held the first video conferencing session today at 9:30 on Google Meet. We’d had an informal one earlier in the week, but with everyone talking, it was far too chaotic for me. I thought I’d lose it. Very hard to follow. It seems everyone learned from the experience: the principal was unmuted, everyone else was asked to mute themselves. Questions went in through the chat box option.

E’s class had their first video conferencing session on Zoom today. At 12:30 everyone logged on and the chaotic chatter began. The teacher had a clever idea: use classroom management techniques for quieting everyone. “If you can hear me, touch your nose.” Everyone got a chance to chat and tell everyone what they were up to. The Boy seemed awfully quiet. When his turn came, he simply passed.

I held my first online conferencing session with students just after the Boy’s. I used Google Meet. It stinks. After participating in a Meet and leading one, I’ve determined that it is useful for chaotic nonsense only unless everyone is muted but one or two. Next time, Zoom.

Still, it was a relief to see the kids again. It’s only been a little over a week, but it feels like so much longer. “It’s so much different than, say, spring break,” I told them. “During a break, you know that in a week or two, you’ll see your students again. Here — who knows when we’ll meet in person again?”

Afterward, once it finally stopped raining, I suggested to the kids that we take the dog for a walk. They jumped on it enthusiastically. The simple pleasures are becoming pleasures for them again. If there’s one bright side to this whole pandemic, it’s that.

On the walk, the Boy and I got to talking about favorite books and authors. “I think my favorite author is Roald Dahl,” he said, then asked me about my favorite books.

“I think Absalom, Absaom! is the best book ever written,” I said, wondering how he’d respond.

“Is that a book a kid could read?”

“No, most definitely not.” I wouldn’t even suggest to my best readers in honors classes to tackle that book. It’s beyond challenging the first time through. Perhaps not as bad as Finnegan’s Wake or even Ulysses, but quite a challenge.

“What other books do you like?” he asked when I’d finished explaining all that.

“I’m partial to Charles Dickens,” I said.

“Didn’t he write Moby Dick?” asked L.

“No, that was Herman Melville. But now that I think about it, I believe I see a little similarity between Dahl and Dickens.”

E raised his eyebrows as he does when he’s excited.

“They both tend to give characters names that somehow reflect their character.” I explained how “Trunchbull” from Matilda seems to be a portmanteau of “truncheon” and “bull.”

When we got back, I introduced E to “Lunch Doodles with Mo Willems.” “Do you know how he is?” I asked.

“Yeah, he wrote the pigeon books and pig and elephant.”

Then, at a little past three, I get this statement from the governor:

At this time, students, parents, and families should plan for South Carolina’s schools to remain closed through the month of April. Our dedicated teachers and school administrators have done a tremendous job in making it possible for our students to learn at home. We understand that the prospect of schools remaining closed for an extended period of time places stress and strain on parents and children. Rest assured, if there is any way to safely open our schools earlier, we will do that, but schools must remain closed to protect the health and safety of South Carolinians.

So it seems our adventure is just beginning. The worries will build, I’m sure, as the cases rise in our little state, and as our president begins to make noises that indicate he thinks money is more important than lives, I wonder if a crisis in government might accompany the crisis in our national well-being.

But as long as everyone ends up safely tucked in their beds at night, my primary anxiety is assuaged.