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The Girl takes piano lessons one night a week. With social distancing, the place she goes to meet her teacher isn’t hosting lessons until the emergency lifts.
Instead, she and her teacher used FaceTime. TG sat at the piano in the living room. We brought her music stand downstairs, and she positioned the iPad on it. Her teacher had his own piano. They conducted the lesson through synchronous streaming.
That relied on several layers of privilege. Piano lessons themselves, to start. Then having a piano, tech and good enough Wi-Fi at home to support live-streaming. And the teacher had the same.
Still, I had one of those “we’re living in the future” moments. She was here, playing; he was wherever he was, teaching; the lesson went well. If not for the reason behind it, it would almost have been cool.
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My own town of Freehold has had several casualties already. The family that lost several members to the virus this week attends the same church that TW and the kids do.
Nothing clever or witty here. Just registering the shock that comes when something abstract suddenly isn’t.
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On Thursday I sent out a message to the faculty about preparing for next week, when spring break ends and newly online classes start. It had the expected notes about Canvas and Zoom, monitoring, and tech support. But it also asked everyone to take a moment for self-care. This is an incredibly stressful time, and anyone who’s psychologically spent won’t be at their best for students anyway. It’s time to be human.
I have a few go-tos when I need to restore balance. Petting the dog is one. Sally neither knows nor cares about my job or higher education; she just wants a good scritch on her ear. Silly comedies sometimes work. This week got intense enough that I went all the way back to my jazz DJ days and took a half hour just to listen to some much-loved ballads: Shirley Horn’s elegantly restrained “It Had to Be You” (with Branford Marsalis), Betty Carter’s criminally neglected masterpiece “I’m Yours, You’re Mine” and Diana Krall’s slightly astringent cover of “A Case of You,” among others.
Wise and worldly readers, I suspect I’m not the only one going through the back files for ways to stay sane. What’s your go-to when the world gets hairy?
