I got, in the literal queasy stomach sense of the word, nauseous back in April when there were images on the news of body bags being loaded into freezer trucks because of mortuary overflow. It's a nightmarish image that's been hard to shake. Almost gives me survivor's guilt. Am I a bad person for trying to find something to smile about or enjoy while that's going on? My best solution was to try and bury myself in teaching, as static and online as it was. Of course now lots of states are seeing surges, including mine (Idaho). Is this coming to an ICU near all of us soon? That makes me feel craven for worrying about other things too. I flat out worry about our profession. So many, many reasons to worry it seems. Decimated state budgets? Cut the funding from education, naturally. Seen surveys showing many (millions?) of parents wanting to homeschool or move online completely in some way. Saw one today that said something like 40% were considering that. I've been working full work days most of the summer to try and create online curriculum. That is to say true, full bodied lessons. Anyone with an hour or so of practice can send out a Google Forms assignment. That's the easy part. Creating a sort of three act structure lesson (my pet term for it anyway) that includes learning, practice and interactivity has proven more challenging than any job I've ever done. The creative well of the mind and the available resources just strain and dry up after awhile. Am I just rearranging furniture on the Titanic? I told someone something back in November that seems strangely prophetic now. I said: "I feel like one of the truly blessed people in the world. Most people are so concerned with what they're getting up to do in the morning that they forget why they're getting up. For me, the what is the same as the why. It's like having all the riches of the world. I don't think I've been good enough in life to deserve all the riches of the world." Needless to say, the afternoon of March 16th, I guess you could say I lost the riches of the world. I wonder (and worry, and wonder, and worry...) if this is some phase of the end of my teaching career (just two years in). It seems like the triple terror of Covid-19 itself, states bleeding funds, and the apparent exodus to other types of schooling is going to knock a lot of us out for the count. After that, empty buildings and ashes of memories that never happened. I don't have the virus (I'm pretty sure). But in a lot of ways, I feel like I'm fighting for my life in this.