The 'Rona Monologues

Playground sits empty on a beautiful afternoon.

No one is going to be happy with this blog.

I'm ok with that.
Someone is going to be offended, or upset. That's what happens when we have a major, polarizing event, where people have strong opinions and believe with all their heart and soul that they have a right to those opinions. And you do.
You do have a right to those strong opinions.
But strength of opinion does not mean right. No one, right now, is going to be totally correct.
So we might as well drop the sticks, lower our voices, and greet this trial with a gentleness and an ease that, though it feels counterintuitive, is necessary for our time.
And one day, when the playground rings with the voices of children, we can look back and have no regrets about how we lived through this time in history.

If all people thought the same, had the same perspective, what kind of a life would that be?

One of the novel studies I am teaching right now is The Giver, by Lois Lowry. It is an award-winning dystopian fiction, detailing the life of a boy who becomes the Receiver, meaning he has to carry all of the memories from the past for his community. It is a futuristic, very controlled world, where emotions, colours, and differences have been white-washed out, along with anything else deemed "dangerous", like snow, sunshine, hills, fire. Grandparents.
Love.
Pain.
Now, everything is safe.
Everyone's skin colour is even the same.
Disease and suffering have mostly been eradicated. Along with choice, and freedom. There is no sorrow, but there is also no joy.
In real life, in our present, crazy, vibrant world, people still have the ability to choose, and to carry two ideas in their head at the same time.

The Great Divide

Our new Covid-19 reality has created large divides. The opposing poles of those who advocate #stayhome, with ever stricter rules and guidelines, and those who want to #getbacktowork, limit government reach and carry on with life...well, the tension is palpable.

Every day my social media feed is flooded with information, memes, open letters, and articles championing the moral rightness of one side and then another.
Images of nurses and doctors slaving through emotional days in stressful hospital situations are juxtaposed with videos of empty hospitals and nurses being laid off because there's nothing for them to do.
Updates from government sources explaining social distancing guidelines are followed by the latest protest by citizens demanding the freedom to operate their dying businesses.
Photos of family members out for a walk or a road trip are sandwiched between outraged rants about those who are seen walking too close, or being in a store with a child in tow.

DO YOU WANT PEOPLE TO DIE!?!?! scream the headlines.

OUR RIGHTS ARE BEING TAKEN LIKE 1940's GERMANY!! the holler echoes.

So who is correct? Who gets to climb the moral ladder and pin the blue ribbon upon their chest?

This is everyone's story. 

 What we seem to forget is that there is no totally safe place. The virus is out there, and many people are going to get it at some point, just like every other virus.

I'm a bit scared to get it, to be honest. I've had pneumonia and multiple bouts with bronchitis, have had asthma in the past, and have a broken immune system that seems to pick up every little cold and flu that wheezes by. I'm not as worried about going to the store anymore, though, if I have to. 

I've only bought groceries twice since March 27. Hurray for me...! I feel a tad entitled to a prize of some kind.
Is there a prize for staying home the most?

No one wins, in these entrenched arguments, but in a way, everyone is right. 

The nurse who is exhausted, teary-eyed, face mask in hand, making her way home after watching a patient succumb to the coronavirus is right. It is entirely understandable that she will be angry when she pulls at last into her driveway and sees several kids playing together in the street. What if it was one of those inconsiderate families that accidentally infected the elderly woman who died today? Whose ashen face she watched the sheet be slowly pulled over, in a solemn, terrible ceremony that has become all too common? This nurse has a right to mourn, and a right to be angry. 

Nothing is fair, right now. 

Because those kids have a father, who invested his entire life and the savings of his wife and his parents into a business that he doesn't believe can survive. He is sobbing right now in the arms of his wife, as they see the last shred of hope float away with the latest government decree that no, we won't be getting back to normal for weeks, months - a year. So they sent the kids outside, to have some time to call employees, employees who have been waiting and wondering every day, asking for some hope of their own to offer their families. And then to call their parents and explain as best they can. The kids are alarmed at hearing dad cry, and run obediently outside to play . They don't understand that they can't be on the swings with their friends. They don't understand why the neighbor lady just glared at them and then slammed her car door shut. 

Every person and family has a story. A real, honest, legitimate story of hope, heartache, fear, or loss. 

Someone is terrified for an elderly parent or an immunocompromised child. 

Someone else is worried for their daughter who hasn't come out of her room for 30 days, and looks drawn, eyes caged by dark circles, not sleeping, barely eating. Definitely not doing school work. Should they take her to the doctor? Will they get in trouble if they do? 

Celebrities... Please Go Away. 

And during all of this we are subjected to the philosophical or pious humanitarian entreaties of celebrities. They smile and wave from large estates, tanned, a swimming pool in the background. Enough money to safely weather any number of months of this. Groceries and meals dropped off at the door. And they ask us to do the right thing, to be good and loyal citizens such as themselves! Why, yesterday they had to load the dishwasher, and figure out the garage-door-opener-thingy! Alone! Tragic.

Truly a rather tone-deaf spectacle. 

(I'm admittedly secretly fascinated by the botox and lip injection divas...it will be interesting to see their lips and foreheads gradually resume a more er, normal shape. Kylie Jenner...we are watching you!) 

No one who is sad that their butler had to go home should be preaching anything to the rest of the world. 

Ok, I think I'm done with my rabbit trail. It was a moment of selfish, ranting indulgence.... I feel slightly guilty, but a bit appeased.

What is Living?

Which is most valuable - to stay alive, or to have quality of life? 

An awful question, reminiscent of horrible times in history or great ethical conundrums. 

May I propose to you that everyone thinks quality of life is important, until their own personal survival comes into question. And then, we are all about staying alive. 

Could we hold two opposing thoughts in our heads for a minute? Consider. 

There are those who would rather face death than have everything they care about in life taken away. 

Hear me out. 

There are those who would rather get the virus than see the life work of generations be wiped out. 

As well, there are many who know they will face the virus anyway, and are fighting to preserve the very life-blood of their communities and the survival of many vulnerable people, people who are looking to them to provide a way forward. 

Here is my point. 

If you are still getting a paycheck, if you have steady food in your fridge, you do not have the right to tell those who are losing everything that they must stay home.

Yes, that goes for Justin Trudeau, too. 

People who have a steady salary and have experienced little to no loss should not be making the decisions for all Canadians. 

About what I said before, the thing with everyone being right, in their way? There is one exception. 

Tattle-tales and snitches. 

These types are going to have to remember who they want to be when this is over, and the neighborhood informant is not going to be a fun label to live with. 

Could be a lady posting pictures to social media exposing "what those kids are up to". Good work, Sherlock, maybe you'll get promoted. 

Or someone calling the police on the house across the street who has a few too many cars outside on Easter weekend. Hmmm...Mighty neighborly, mighty neighborly.  

I have patience for a lot of dumb stuff, maybe some misguided ideas, possibly some emotions running high. But telling on your fellow citizens? Nope. Line gets drawn there. 

I have zero patience for people peeking around curtains with malicious intent. Please, find something to do. Take up embroidery, learn a language, anything. But leave people alone. This will not lead to good things for you, I promise. 

We all need to adopt the medical motto of "Do no harm" until this is over. Do no harm to your neighbor's reputation, do no harm to your grocery store clerk, do no harm to people just trying to survive in their own way. 

Day after day, a silent basketball pad under blue skies

Which way do we go?

Yes, we all have a story. Even the government has a tale to tell. Imagine being responsible to make decisions for vast numbers of people, right now. And either way, you know you will be weighed in the balance and found wanting. 

If you shut down all business and hope of re-starting the economy, there will be literally dozens if not hundreds of suicides blamed squarely on your terrible decision. Yet, if you let even one park or non-essential business stay open, the death of someone's loved one by covid-19 will be laid at your feet. Either way, it's a losing game. Let's take it easy on our leaders, or at least give them some credit. The government is like a parent - if they relax the rules, they fear the worst. Government leaders have to rule in favor of saving the most lives possible. This is the the err on the side of caution that assumes citizens are fairly helpless and need as much direction as possible. It assumes we are like toddlers, not grown adults. We can give government the benefit of the doubt, but we do still live in a free country, the "true North strong and free". In the end, after all the regulations are sent out and the tickets are given, citizens have the right to live as they see wise and fitting for their situation. I believe that in the coming days we will see more and more citizens exercising those very freedoms, no matter what peeping neighbors or facebook keyboard warriors have to say. 

Life without freedom is not worth living for very long. 

I pray we all can be kind, generous, caring and yes, safe. Which is more important? To be safe? 

Or to survive? 

The coming days will tell which of those questions carries more weight. 

The Pandemic Letters

(With apologies to C.S. Lewis)

  My Dear Wormwood,

It pains me to hear of your follies in using this pandemic to its potential. You seem almost puffed up by the anxieties, deaths, and outright agonies of the people you are working to guide toward Our Father Below. Surely you have not forgotten already the careful lessons we poured over and drilled into your insect-like skull?
You grin about the deaths in hospitals and nursing homes (rather few, percentage-wise) as if these are somehow advancing our great cause! Far be it! Some of these belong to the Enemy, and I can almost hear the rejoicing as they walk through the awful gates! My ears bleed with it.

As well, can you not comprehend how they start to think about what is to come, and with gravity of soul and mind some begin to think...stay with me now... of preparation. Preparing for an afterlife. Considering what may come next! This is the worst possible news. We have worked for centuries to get their minds off of death, and onto frivolities, selfish habits or stoic musings- even daily we throw program after program at this very cause. And so when I hear your gleeful wringing of hands in regards to death, my dear Wormwood, I fear you have strayed far from the path. These gravitous thoughts the wretched humans are having will undoubtedly cause us to lose souls. Some that we have worked many years to steer in our direction may raise their ugly heads to the heavens. It should cause you pain, not this smiling like a stupid creature!
I'm not shocked Wormwood, merely disappointed in your oversight, as I would be in a cockroach that did not see the heeled boot descending. But you are inexperienced in the finer nuances of destruction.

Now to the other. I do not doubt that their economic system crashing gives you false confidence. Here too, there is something regarding human nature you must try, in your small way, to let enter the struggling synapses of your brain.

There is, what they call upstairs, a thing called Supply and Demand. Granted there is a great disruption at the moment, large stockpiles of rotting supply (I confess to craving the scent of it) and an inability to demand, and much frustration, loss, deprivation, and hence excitement among those of us Below. At surface this is wonderful to behold. However, the same demand will still be there that ever was, and thus the supply will rise to fill it. And on and on. A few hiccups, perhaps, a grinding of the gears, but move it must. And then all of the crashing will be for naught. It will not serve us for long. In the meantime, you waste our time and anger the Senior devils with your meandering idiocy. Get busy! Precious time passes, to throw the horror in their faces, to create desperation, crippling anxieties, and the inevitable sweet victory as some edge toward the cliff, unable to carry on! These are the moments, Wormwood, you will carry with you forever. Well, as long as I allow you to survive, I should warn. Do not take a moment of depression for granted. These are indeed perilous times. Some are using their pain to draw closer (shudder) to the Enemy. He loves them, strangely enough. This is a concept our Senior officials have prodded and studied for millennia, to no avail. There is nothing we can do about it. He will protect, cherish and provide for His rats, sometimes snatching them out of our very jaws.
(Excuse my salivatings on the page. You understand.)

You cannot imagine, Wormwood, how I ground my mandibles when you wrote of your latest failure. You thought that keeping them apart was something to celebrate. No! Not at all! Several extra-marital affairs I had been personally overseeing have ground to a halt. All lost. The bile rises when I think of the years I spent, creating small problems, causing little jealousies and innocent glances, and then seeing all the careful planning and depravity wasted.
And the gathering of the Enemies flock, interrupted! As if this "social distancing" was in our favour! Now they are missing their disgusting little times together, thinking of others, checking in on their neighbors. Nothing could be worse! We had lulled them, gently, cautiously, into a deep sleep. Now the "saints", as they nauseatingly call themselves, have awakened! The petty quarrels and insults we toiled over for years - forgotten. Even worse, forgiven. How I detest the word.
And still, the grating noise of what is known as "Worship" resounds across their devices and in their homes (we are forbidden to say the word, and so we simply refer to "That Screech Upstairs"). It is worse than the pitter and patter of birds in Spring, more horrible than the laughter of children. It cracks upon my eardrum and bends my very fangs inward! I've had to retreat from Upstairs and recover an entire week down Below.

This virus, the "pandemic" as they ridiculously and snivelingly call it, what I once thought a glorious idea, has brought them together in ways we could not foresee.
(You mustn't let a vile droplet of that last sentence reach Our Father Below. In fact, I may be forced to make sure you do not.)

And lastly, my dear, delicious Wormwood, the icing on a fly-ridden cake. At our last meeting of Senior devils, it was revealed. The cries of these stinking humans, old and young, rich and poor, light and dark, have reached the ears of the Enemy. He is mobilizing to send aid. Rumours are even oozing from above saying He heard them from the start. It is crass, obviously, but probably true. I've been crawling the dirt for several eons now and I've seen it before. They call it a Rescue, an Ever Present Help or something disturbing of that kind. How sadly inane.


   The point is that I'm afraid our time is growing short. What you so naively lauded as an opportunity of the ages for ferrying souls Below has turned into a battle in which we are taking heavy losses. They come at us from all sides. Many of our best and most promising charges have been turned back, and there is a steady hemorrhage of souls walking up to that dreaded piece of Wood and depositing their burdens there. A thunder of applause from Above is growing, causing fear and alarm among all rank and file of my colleagues, though of course I am steady in my ancient filth, ripe always with hope and deception. Never fear on my account.

His minions grow bolder, calling on the name of our Enemy daily. The time grows short.
And so, Wormwood, we must fight with all the rampant evil we can muster.
Set sibling against sibling, father against mother, nation against nation. Stir up the hate that lurks in families, and make them so sick of each other that little fights and snarls break out and crack the foundations.

Cause neighbors to tell tales on neighbors, and let them think their little laws are what matters. Fan the flames of insidious conversations about the constitution and government, creating bonfires of mistrust. Use the media, as I have repeatedly instructed you, to pour fuel on these bonfires until they blaze up and destroy anything around them. Whisper suspicions to the humankind as they pass each other on the street, and fill their heads with thoughts of how lazy or entitled others must be, while they suffer, oh so much more! Victims must be reminded often of their new state of victimhood, and bring up regularly how easy others must have it. Either they don't care enough about the sick, or they care too much. Polarization is almost too easy at the moment - seize the day! For those who are beset with laziness, let them wallow in it and germinate that self-hatred that ever does so much for our purposes. Confusion is key; when in doubt, cause chaos and misunderstanding at every turn. As yet there is no cure; maybe we can still turn fear into something that leaves an indelible mark on their pitiful hearts. As the cherry on top of the eternal Feast of death, we strive for their lives to be meaningless and empty, plagued by fears on every side.

Ah Wormwood! The possibilities are endless! I almost forget how short the time grows. Our days are numbered, however... yours perhaps more than mine. That particular delicacy we will discuss soon.

Until then.


Yours Ever so Sincerely,


Uncle Screwtape

The Tipping Point

The Fine Line...how long until we cross it?

As the saying goes, there's a fine line between _____ and _____.

You pick. Safety and control. Freedom and oppression. Genius and insanity, right and wrong. Staying well and losing our grip on reality.
When will we cross that fine line, when Enough simply becomes Too Much?

During this coronavirus lockdown, one of my only excursions is a long walk down an empty road. I hope that's allowed. It may not be. 

And while I walk, I tend to think, like Winnie-the-Pooh in his honey tree. Think, think, think. 

What I have been wondering lately is how long people will obey, stay home, not see family or friends, not even a sick mother or father, not take care of things that may be incredibly important to them. How long will the citizens obey? 

Now don't get me wrong. I'm not one of the naysayers; I do not delve into conspiracy theories or entertain insidious ideas about where the virus came from and what will become of humanity. 

I tend towards introversion, and never run out of ways to fill an hour. In fact I've barely watched Netflix yet....I'm saving that for when I am out of ideas. Or maybe I'm too distracted to focus on anything for more than 20 minutes - that might be it! 

So I should be okay for awhile. I'm not losing my mind, not yet. 

Usually, on the Saturday of Easter weekend, I'm waking up at either my in-law's or my parent's house. Or family is staying at my place and I'm in the middle of creating or cleaning up an enormous waffle, ice cream and strawberries breakfast, picking at bits of bacon left in the pan, thinking about the calories I may accrue with the ham or turkey dinner coming tomorrow and wondering if I'm too old to buy a chocolate Easter bunny, or if anyone will notice if I take a handful of mini-eggs out to the patio just now, with my coffee. 

The fine line is that narrow place where something changes into something else, where the balance shifts. 

I sense a tension and restlessness in the air, growing like the signs of Spring among the resigned stoicism and meek compliance of Canadians, obedient to what has been asked of us. We are responsible, we will hold up our end of the bargain. We understand that our staying home helps others, and is a good example to those who might be on the edge of making different decisions. The vulnerable must be protected, the sick cared for, and the carers lauded and kept safe. Yes, we understand.

But at what point does people's mental health take precedence over their physical health? I think of many elderly people, lonely at home, their primary source of joy in grandchildren or family visits taken away. I think of families who know they have limited time left with loved ones, and see the sand swiftly flowing out of the hourglass. 

Young people whose entire life is wrapped up in their friends, feeling depressed and desperate as time freezes but their inner world continues. People whose love language is physical touch not being hugged for weeks or months.  Or even the cumulative apprehension and mild boredom of the general population.

At some point that thin line will be crossed, and acceptance will tip, like a balance scale, into resistance. 

It is like when a mouse, or a large ugly spider, or even a more dangerous pest like a scorpion is discovered in a room. Perhaps the homeowner jumps up on a chair, or retreats to the bed or the far corner. They stay still - watching and waiting, at the ready! Adrenaline races and the fight or flight impulse ensures survival. Eventually, as time passes, the frozen muscles relax, and the person begins to think about moving around a bit, even getting rid of the pest. Perhaps it isn't all that dangerous. Maybe they can kill it with a shoe, or tiptoe out and get the farm cat (in the case of the mouse). At any rate, they aren't going to stay forever perched on the edge of a desk awaiting their fate. No. Other options will be weighed.

The lockdown situation is far easier for those living in rural areas. They might not even notice the pinch. They have fields to go out in, maybe atv's to drive or long stretches of gravel road to wander. Someone in an apartment building who cannot even go into their hallway or elevator without feeling compromised is having a much different experience. My heart goes out to those in crowded places, whose anxiety must be overwhelming. 

I could be totally wrong about this, but I think within the next two weeks we will start to see a push back from people. They can't arrest us all, that's for sure. We all have common sense and know how to stay away from others, so it isn't like we are going to link arms en masse in the street and sing Kumbaya or clamour for malls to open. We have to give people some credit for having common sense. There is a strong independence and pioneer spirit among Canadians, as well as politeness and respect. 

At some point the fine line between inertia and restlessness, fear and risk, compliance and curiosity will blur and become harder to see. I have utmost respect for health care workers, the sick and vulnerable and our essential workers. I also have respect for the rule of law. 

But I do know human nature, and I wonder how long we will pace behind an invisible fence, when those we love and the essence of life itself is on the other side. 

For what is living?

 Is it only keeping oneself from harm, or even keeping others safe? At what point will our collective mental state take precedence over these physical dangers? What of the trauma caused by a daughter not able to say goodbye to a father, or a couple married for 60 years, unable to share their last days? Is this not also dangerous?

I am not sure of the answers, but the questions continue to arrive. 

For now I sit in my kitchen and watch the passage of the sun trace a bright arc across the window, 

a sun that seems freer now than I,

though it follows the same path
since the beginning of Time. 

There Were No Classes on Teaching Through Pandemics

One Year Later

It has, once again, been a long while.

Not for lack of things to say, but for perhaps too much to say.
Stuck between the rock of wanting to write and the hard place of not being able to bring myself to write seriously about lesser things.
I think I'm beyond that now, and can scribble happily of other ponderings that have begun to pile up in the interim between the heavier times and the present.

Speaking of Hard Times....

The Pandemic

Today, April 5, 2020, the world is navigating between wanting to carry on as usual and the stark realities of the Covid19 pandemic. It seems almost silly, odd at the very least, to be staying home so much, avoiding people, not driving in to work. But then the news of deaths, climbing positive cases, over-worked and anxious hospital staff, and the cumulative stress and suffering worldwide give us pause. At this time, no one truly succeeds alone.
The concept of being an island is revealed for what it always has been - illusion. What we do or don't do, affects others.
And so we stay apart to try and keep each other well. To protect the elderly and sick, and those whose bodies are simply not able to take on another battle. To show solidarity with those working to heal, to transport groceries, to keep the roads open, to bring essential goods to hopeful residents behind closed doors.
It will be nice to hug again, to pass close to someone and not hold your breath, not see The Virus everywhere. I want to go for long walks and look people in the eye as I meet them, smile, wave and chat for a bit.
It will happen. Meanwhile, to be patient, creative, productive. I'm trying, and I know you are too.
I may settle though, for sanity.

Teaching from Home

I am having to isolate for two weeks, so haven't been to the school since Thursday, March 26. It has been incredibly busy, trying to put lessons online with the site crashing, links disappearing, and students and parents wondering how best to proceed. 

On a positive note, I'm learning a great deal. 

On the flipside, I wonder if we are doing this right. I wonder if we may be drifting toward the rocks.

Here's the deal. 

This isn't a situation schools have navigated before. There is no precedent, as we keep hearing from literally everywhere - "these are unprecedented times". 

It's almost like they are all using the same script. It's efficient, at any rate. 

Some teachers and schools are doing everything they can to communicate with parents, have creative lessons uploaded regularly. Stay accountable. 

Some teachers and schools might do as little as possible, letting students flounder and figure it out on their own, and if they drown, they drown. I hope that is a rare occasion, but human nature often takes the road most traveled. 

And does it really matter, in the end?

To a few students, who enjoy school work, love their teachers, and feel lost without the routine and rigor of the classroom, it will matter. These students will be conscientious and somewhat anxious. They will look for direction and gladly take it, as it settles their world. School is an escape and a way to find purpose in all of this crazy. 

Other students, who see school and school assignments as a colossal waste of time and infringement on their freedoms and very life, will rejoice. Until the Late Assignments and the Calls Home commence, and everything gets tense and miserable indeed. Either that or school will fall so far off the radar that the possibility of an actual calamity or failure at the end of it all doesn't even register. It matters to these students as well, but they don't know it yet. 

Students who struggle with anxiety, perhaps mental illness, a terrible home life, or other heavy weight to bear will stumble under this new Unknown. 

Maybe they can't ask their parents for help. 

Maybe there are no parents, not really. Not decent, caring ones. 

Maybe they spend all day helping with siblings or chores or grandparents, and have nothing left at the end of the day to decipher a vaguely worded email from their teacher, or begin a stack of assignments that might be "DUE TOMORROW or ZERO!!"

Honestly, my family has it pretty good. We have a roof over our heads, steady work for right now, and even a pack of off-brand scratchy toilet paper at the ready. We have each other and we love each other (well the love part may be wearing slightly thin ...too much p r o x i m i t y you understand).

I am well aware though, that some families are torn apart by the stress of job loss, no income, an uncertain future, the illness or death of a loved one. There are families, with children that go to our schools, who were barely hanging on before this. And now, they are undone. 

Who is going to help Junior with his science experiment when mom is catatonic on the couch, no sleep, completely exhausted. Or Dad is taking care of the younger ones while mom recovers from night shift. The house is a mess and there isn't a clean spot at the table. The internet is down. The computer is being hogged by one person and everyone else has to wait. 

Or single-parent families. A mother with no groceries terrified to go out and get them. Impossible decisions, like whether to leave the toddlers alone in the crib and go to the store, or risk taking them with. And then the phone rings, "Hello! I'm the cheery teacher just checking in on why little Johnny hasn't been coming to our online class?" 

Or a teenager who barely emerges from his or her room, lonely and depressed, sleep schedule decimated. "Honey, your teacher called, and you have 12 pages of Chemistry to hand in tomorrow. And an essay due! And did you even know about such-and-such-a-course?? WHAT is going on?? Honey?! What do I tell your teacher?!"  

This is a nasty way to spell S-T-R-E-S-S. 

Online schooling will cater best to highly motivated students and families who have a solid support structure, a decent income, and nothing much else to do. Those are straight facts. 

The ship is sailing ahead as if the sun will forever shine and the seas will be calm. 

My worry is that we are not prepared as schools and teachers for the rocks ahead. We are not prepared for "man overboard!" 

A one-fits-all approach cannot work here. As teachers, we know this and face it every day in our classrooms. But the divide grows and the differences escalate when everything moves out of the classroom, where every student at least has a desk and a place, a pencil, a group of friends, a time to focus. How do we teach when it is so far out of our hands? How do we assess when we don't know what is going on in our student's lives? How do we give an A to the student who has an ideal situation, and an F to the student who may be working to keep the necessities coming in? Or a C to a bright student that cannot seem to learn in this new way? 

I think every teacher is doing the best they can, as teachers generally do. And schools, too. 

The idiosyncrasies of teachers will perhaps stand out more starkly during this work-from-home period. For example, a chronic issue in high schools is that each teacher believes their subject to be The Subject of Highest Importance.  They can't understand why students are not getting the homework done, because it seems very "do-able" to them. They do not really grasp that at one and the same time Mr. English is expecting an essay, Mrs. Physics is expecting a completed assignment booklet, and Mr. Math is wondering why no one looked up the extra bonus question. On the same Monday morning.  

Teachers can be isolated in their classrooms as well as in their disciplines. Usually, it's something to chuckle about in the staff room, a bit of light-hearted banter and some occasional teasing by fellow teachers. Now, it's worth a second look. 

We must learn to take in the whole picture of student life, and adjust accordingly. 

There will be students who truly enjoy your subject, and this lights up your day, but they are not more special than the other students. Just different. Each deserves the same attention. 

I think the next few weeks will tell the tale. 

Perhaps this is all over quickly and we can get back in the classroom, make a few adjustments and carry on. 

Or one by one teachers realize that we need to actually communicate with our students, and not expect that they will remember to look in on your (although very organized and fantastic) website that you told them about in January. They have forgotten. I guarantee they have. 

Teachers with their own teens will probably understand better the trials of parents urging on their great big offspring to stop everything and do schoolwork. Teachers with young kids will be sympathetic to those struggling to keep sane inside a house clanging with literally everything going on at once. 

My point, if I have one, is just to breathe. 

Yes, we need to prepare lessons.
Yes, we hope and pray they get something out of them. 

Yes, we have an obligation to our students, parents and school districts. 

Can we carry the load with more ease? Can we adjust with the changing winds and currents? 

This too shall pass, as the old saying goes, and what we all will remember is how we cared for each other. Not who worked the hardest or who passed the test. 

To the teachers - you are going to make a difference during this pandemic. One way, or another. May you have rest, courage, support, and hope as we move into another week of uncharted seas.