Day Nineteen. Seems a long time ago I was in a room of kids. Haven’t actually set foot in my room since Friday, March 13 (yes, Friday the 13th). I have gotten so familiar (not comfortable) with distance, that in-person seems now a distant memory.
Of course, it’s not a completely new phenomenon. Each summer I also experience a period of adjustment, a sensation of separation. But this sensation is different. More separate. More strange. Ghostly, perhaps. The kids are still there. I am still here. We connect digitally on the daily, but this ethereal existence carries a singular separation. It’s as if we are ghosts of the machine, as if we are in a state interdependently independent of the system that gave rise to our being in the first place. Here but not here. Hollow. Haunting. Ghosts we’ve become.
Happy Thursday, all. Sorry for the strange post this morning. Strange times. Missing the real.
Do. Reflect. Do Better.
It’s more separate and strange – I think because we don’t know if we’ll meet together as a group again. The rug was taken out from under us on that Friday the 13th (here, too – along with a full moon that week). When it’s ripped out w/o warning, and with no clue of when we’ll see them in person again, it feels unfair.
Hangin’ in there with you, Monte. ~Teachers around the globe
Hi, Joy. Yes. Sadly, here in Washington, we know we won’t meet again. Thank you for hanging in here with me, Joy. Hope you are well, otherwise.