Yesterday, I went on a tone-deaf mini-rant that ended with a
complaint about out-of-date shredded cabbage. After seeing several friends
utilize online grocery ordering, I decided to try it out. The process with the shifting
pickup dates and times was annoying but certainly manageable, and most of my
order was fulfilled – I now have milk and avocados and apples and green peppers. Yay! But seeing the
expired date on the bag of cabbage was, for me, a “last straw” trigger.
Cabbage? Really?
No, it's not the cabbage. Actually, it’s my students. My “A”
day students to whom I taught the 1st steps of demand/supply theory on
March 11, not knowing that would be the last day we would see each other. My “B”
day students that sat and talked with me throughout the day on March 12, after
the Governor’s order to not gather in groups larger than 250 people (Executive
Order 20-05) scrapped our school’s planned Unity Day. Unity Day had been organized
as an unprecedented day of rotating assemblies and discussion classes, and we
received word 15 minutes into the 1st segment that we could not
proceed. So instead, we reverted back to the “B” day class schedule, and
students were unsettled. Frightened. Irritated. Angry. So we watched the news,
and saw that on March 11, the World Health Organization had declared COVID-19
to be a global pandemic. And we talked about what that might mean. And
discussed whether school might be interrupted. One student, with great
earnestness, asked “Mrs. McKee, does this mean Jesus is coming?” So then we
talked about how, in the midst of any number of disasters or horrific events (Pearl
Harbor, the eruption of Mt. St. Helens, 9/11, Hurricane Katrina’s aftermath, and
so on), people have often wondered if the event was a signal of the end of the
world, and what that looks like in different belief systems.
It’s my seniors, who have had the final 12 weeks of their
school career ripped away from them. They’ll still graduate, of course. But
schooling has abruptly stopped, and they are done. My students will not learn
the basics of demand/supply theory. Government students will not participate in
their mock legislature. I.B. students will not test. CE2 students will not
complete their internships. There will be no prom. No band trip. No Winter
Guard championship. No Dance Nationals. No state choir competition. No spring
sports season. No senior sunset. And who knows what “graduation” will actually
look like?
It’s my sister-in-law, who is on the front lines of fighting
this pandemic in her position as an ER doctor at a major hospital in Portland.
It’s my son-in-law’s sister, who works at one of the most impacted hospitals in
New York City.
It’s my former student who, as a person of Vietnamese ancestry,
is dealing with ignorant people who treat her and other Asian-Americans with suspicion
and hostility because they see all Asians as Chinese and they believe that
COVID-19 is a virus that is passed on from Chinese people.
It’s Governor Ron DeSantis reopening beaches in northern Florida just two weeks after issuing his month-long stay-at-home order, and the Floridians who rushed to sunbathe and play volleyball in defiance of the directive to engage only in activities like running, walking, or surfing.
It’s the growing number of people who are protesting the “tyranny”
of government-ordered closures, carrying weapons and “Don’t Tread on Me” flags.
People who do not understand that it is the appropriate function of government
to protect the public, whether that protection comes in the form of traffic
lights, zoning laws, licensing requirements for professions ranging from plumbers
and electricians to teachers to physicians, chiropractors, and dentists, and so
on. And now, in the midst of a global pandemic, it is the appropriate function
of government to put restrictions in place that will mitigate the spread of the
disease. These restrictions are rooted in the best available science, not in
some conspiracy to take away “freedom”, using whatever definition one applies.
It’s the incredible ineptitude of the current occupant of
the White House, who appears to be stuck in perpetual prepubescence – caring most
deeply about being the popular one who is adored by all, and caring very little
about the vast human suffering that is happening all around him. He continues to downplay the 700,000 confirmed
cases of COVID-19 in the US, including 13,000 deaths in New York City alone (April
18, 2020, Johns Hopkins University). Meanwhile, he called himself a
“victim” during his April 16 call with the nation’s governors: "I was a victim of the first test,
meaning I had to go through it. And I didn't like what was happening," Mr.
Trump told the governors Thursday. "When they tell you, it goes up your
nose and then they hang a right at your eye and it goes under your eye. And I
say, 'You've gotta be kidding.' And I called it an operation, not a test. I
said, 'This is operation.'" This self-labeling as a victim of a swab test comes 3 ½ weeks
after calling himself a “war president”.
It’s those who surround him, who fawningly refer in every
response to “the President’s plan” each time they speak, to stroke his fragile
ego. Who look away when he make
outrageous claims during his nightly briefings, but do not correct or
challenge. Who, through their silence, give acquiescence to his rantings. Who repeat, on various media platforms, his scientifically
inaccurate statements as if they are factual. Who enable this emperor, who is
completely without clothes.
One of the areas in which we have spent professional
development time at my school is learning about the effects of trauma. A concept with which we have become familiar
is, for various reasons, when pressure has built up to a certain point, a person may “flip their lid”, during which they’ve basically just had enough. And
later, when the lid is not flipped, more reasonableness comes back into the
picture, and there is an opportunity for insight and reflection. But for some
whose trauma is unrelenting, the lid seems to stay in a perpetual state of
flipped-ness. That is the state for many right now.
Most everyone is experiencing their own version of trauma during
this extraordinary time. It includes those of us who come from positions of privilege and are
learning to navigate a new reality of working from home and shopping online, or
seeing their children and grandchildren only through Portal or Zoom. It
includes those school kids whose not-yet-completely-developed brains are
struggling to absorb and process the abrupt changes to their lives. It includes
those whose work is considered essential and are navigating how to stay safe as they
meet the public or interact with coworkers. It includes those who are on the
verge of losing their homes because of the sudden loss of what had always seemed
like a very secure job. It includes those whose small business is the lifeline
for not only themselves but for their employees. It includes those who are
fighting for their lives or for the lives of others because of this virulent virus.
And on, and on. Personally, my own trauma is small and my privilege is real. If
out-of-date cabbage is what triggered my lid to flip, even for a brief moment,
perhaps it was time to take inventory and see what is really bothering me.
It was never really about the cabbage.
Sources:
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1k9gLrQP4adjP6hrd_03BXLtVkkDHSXps/view
https://www.foxnews.com/us/jacksonville-florida-beaches-reopen-coronavirus-phase-1
https://coronavirus.jhu.edu/map.html
https://www.cbsnews.com/news/trump-guidelines-on-opening-up-america-leave-much-up-to-governors/
