Shutdown Day 1

We got up at 6:15am because obviously there is not the normal rush to school.

I {we} have no students, and it’s a rainy, dreary, Eeyore kind of day.

{so}

I’ve opted for a more casual attire & no make-up.

We get ready and pack lunches like “normal.”

{7:08am}

Out the door, drop E off, and now to take P to preschool.

Why? Because her worrisome heart craves normalcy and routine.

She already knows things are not normal from me not wearing make-up and that I’ll be picking her up from school. We will not be creating any panic or making her aware of the hysteria.

{7:35am} Pick up my tea, roll into the parking lot, and it is remotely empty except for a few early birds and the principals.

{8:03} The bell rings for what would start the school day, but my chairs and desks remain empty. About right now is when one of my sweet students would be coming in with a big “Mrsssssssssss. Hurrrrrrleeeeey.”

Throughout the day, the bells rang accordingly yet not a single student came through my doors for greetings, math questions, scholarship help, or even to try to sneak in late work.

No one.

So at 10:30am we were briefed with our instructions through these uncharted waters. There were questions. There were answers. Then off to the task at hand—putting together extra AMI materials for “just in case”.

That’s the “scariest” part of this.

“Just in case.”

“For the foreseeable future”

“Until further notice.”

No one can tell us when we’ll see our students again.

No one knows how all this will end or when it will or even if.

{11:00am} A couple of us went to a local restaurant for lunch, and just absolutely bewildered. This was just wild. We talked through scenarios, what other schools were doing for AMI work, and actually answered some of our students’ questions while we ate.

“So when you say you can help us— you mean give answers?”

Absolutely. Not.

“When I try to log on, it gives me this screen.”

{teacher texts the ultimate tech man}

#youdointoomuch

{12:15pm} Back on campus and back to what feels like an alternate reality.

So we prepared our rooms. Emptied trash. Wiped tables and desks. Prepared extra days of material. Turned in the necessary documents to the principal.

After all of that, we turned the lights off and locked our rooms.

{3:05pm} I walked away from an empty room hoping my kids would be ok in this unknown. I hope someone tells them good morning, happy birthday, and makes them feel important and loved.

{3:15pm} I picked up P from preschool, and we called in supper to pick up. While we waited in it to be ready, we ran to Walmart—- like I had no choice people, the baby needed diapers.

We went in, and as far as the amount of people it wasn’t terrible. The quality & moods—- terrible. People being rude to workers due to limits on water, no toilet paper or paper towels, etc.

Just FYI—being hateful to innocent people gets you no where in life. Being ugly to the Walmart employee will not make a pack of paper towels magically appear.

We got our items, and saw several people we knew doing their grocery shopping.

“If we are all going to be home for 2 weeks, I’m not coming back here.”

Preach.

We left to pick up supper, took it home, ate together, and that eerie anxiety of not having anything to prepare for started in.

Usually I would be thinking about the next day’s lessons, but not tonight.

So we did our whole nighttime routine as usual except no alarms were set.

{BUT}

This is not a vacation.

We’re not really sure what it is.

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