That Time kryssi Had No Choice But To Use Technology

   In this "NEW ENVIRONMENT", "NEW NORMAL"--- Immma punch the next person who says that, or "In these uncertain times." Shut Up. UGH.

   In this Time of School Closures, I was forced to face my worst fear: technology.
   You can ask anyone from the ESC in Littleton, or if you followed my blogs the last few years, or if you worked in the classroom next to me, or if you had to deal with getting my kids through their MAP tests: You Know.
    I am uniquely stunted in this field.
    Genoa once said that I needed to evolve with technology or become extinct. It stung me deeply, but she's not wrong. In theatre I can do The Things that are required-except to run any sort of projection hooked up to a computer... or sound hooked up to a computer. If you add a laptop to the sound board I'm lost. And what the hell is with projections in a theatre, anyway? It was fine where I was: I made a google website for the department, and when I was moved to lang arts, I had people who were understanding help me through MAP tests, and flew my world famous "Ghetto Slide Shows" for instruction.
    Then I switched buildings.
     And the new building functions fully on classroom technology. "One to one". In the classroom every kid has a chrome and every teacher is expected to use google classroom. That's what "one to one" means, apparently.
     I had no idea how to use google classroom. None.
     I tried the first month, and realized I had no idea how to navigate it. The sub had set up the classes and was quite spiffy at it. I watched her do it and figured I could, too. 
     Nope.
     So I stopped.
     And Then They Closed School and said, without any warning, "Go Online. Do The Google."
     Well....shit....shitty shit shit.
     Tech gives me serious anxiety. I stop breathing if I can't get what I need. At IB training in Florida, I couldn't get on my email when I first checked into the hotel and I stayed up all night, panicking, sure someone was going to break in and steal my kidney. I somehow related these things in my extreme trepidation. I panicked the one time I took a google class at LHS and learned nothing, I just quietly sat behind my laptop and focused on my breathing. Though I did manage to take a picture of myself that stayed on my laptop until I left because I wasn't even sure where it was--I could see it, but I didn't know why-- let alone how to delete it.
      In addition to the mechanics, my eyes are pretty crappy and I've hit "Publish" instead of "Save", quite famously. But that's an old story.
     In order for me to function with technology, I need complete focus. I must be in a sealed room, no sound or distractions. No cats. No dogs. I have my water bottle, comfy pants and the room is soundproofed, so nobody comes running when I begin to scream. My children-or husband, if anyone is home--are outside, redirecting traffic. St. Anthony's Hospital has been notified the Flight For Life's flight pattern must be adjusted so it does not include my house. It's that bad. I wish I were kidding.
     I am an audio learner first, kinestetic second. Meaning I can't learn online, so why would I teach online?
     Because I have to.
     So I sat at my dining room table, talking to myself (audio learner) for a few hours, with my colleague on the phone (again with audio learning), and managed the bare minimum. I got classes set up. PHEW.
      That was only the beginning. We were supposed to be video chatting with our classes? WHAT? Does my lap top even have a camera? Google hangout? Google chat?  Goodle meet? What is the difference? I began the slow process, and managed to get a text stream in google chat with my students.
      Who immediately wanted to video chat, cause we were doing scene work and they wanted to perform.
      Shit.
      At first I would just call them during class time, because THAT I figured out. A student innocently asked me "Miss, why don't you just push the little camera button in the corner?"
      Blink. Blink.
      Then I learned other teachers had managed to create these invites with a time stamp, so kids could just click on the invite.
       I tried it twice with Theaco, both times the invite had expired? I still have no idea how that works. It's like the microwave. Mysterious magic from Satan.
       THANK GOD the district decided to just drop links into each google classroom for the kids. They could only get on if I was on,which I guess is important to avoid them google chatting unsupervised with one another during a plague, because they don't have phones? Anyway,it worked. I am hoping that the link will remain for the fall, otherwise....well, I'm not video chatting anyone.
       The week we were back after extended spring break, there was a weekly faculty meeting. The email said follow the link in your calendar.
       I have a calendar?
       The second week I found the meeting.
       And so, by and by, all in all, to sum up, I adapted to what I am able to do. I still have no idea how to find late work submitted in GC, or how to set a timer so the assignment can be posted weeks before it is to be revealed. My neighbor tells me that's a thing. I have two teacher neighbors from another district, we've been meeting in the street in the evenings. Well, one goes for a walk and passes by our houses while the other is gardening, and I lurch out of my front door at them holding my beer. "Meet" qualifies."Hang out"? "Chat"? Semantics.
       As all of this is unfolding, I realize I have to renew my license by next June. I have done nothing toward that end, long story, so now I need 90 hours in a year to get my renewal. APS is this amazing district that offers professional development classes by the boatload. In addition, I am contractually obligated to take a CLDE class,which will count toward my renewal. Usually these classes are both live and online, but now...everything is online.
       The first class I signed up for sent me a UPC code thing for entrance. I texted Eric immediately because why wouldn't I, and even he was vexed. I don't even know how the platform Performance Matters works, and the lovely professional development support person has been very patient with me. But I panicked over this class and ended up not taking it. Which was stupid, as it was a THEATRE class, dumb ass.
       So I joined a Theatre Teacher Academy group online because those classes are video tapes that I can watch whenever, and get credit, and get ideas for class. But they aren't going to net me the 90 hours I need.
        Determined to be Nobody's Bitch, I signed up for a Neurobiological Education Something Something class. It was a Zoom class.I had to click onto the invite, which they sent to me in a place I could locate: my email. Feeling sassy after being able to get into this class, I tried another one.Once I signed up, the GC for this class began to be flooded with assignments, and flip grids and kamis and I was like...ummmm....I have no idea how to do any of this, sorry. I tired to download kami to my laptop, and my laptop crashed.
        Of course it did.
        I have been employed by APS for four months and this is my third laptop.
        I warned the tech guy when they hired me. He didn't believe me.
        He believes me now.
        Since we are likely going to be online in some capacity in the fall, I have to get this shit under control. The district, again, being amazing, has created a ton of online google classroom classes for all levels that we can take AND get credit for. I signed up, and they sent me a UPC code. But instead of panicking, I have since learned how to navigate Performance Matters, and I was able to find the link to GC directly. HA.One of the teachers said there is an assignment due and posted in GC. I got onto GC, but it's not there. 
        Of course it isn't. 
        I have already emailed and bothered one of the teachers to ask where the assignment is located. My exposition in my intro email query included that I was World Famous in LPS for my ineptitude. I am quickly gaining the same reputation here.
        Class starts on Monday. 

 

Forward Is the Only Direction

  I am not interested in contributing to the sad rabble of my colleagues, all devastated that they didn't get to see their students through to the end of the school year. I did not get the opportunity to say good bye to my kids at LHS, or my colleagues. I had barely said "hello" to the kids at Hinkley when everything shut down. 
  It's fine. Don't put so much energy into good bye. A few colleagues stayed in touch, a few kids found me. Cool.
   I get that a good bye is important to be able to leave it behind. There is a human tendency to linger in the past without a good bye, to maybe hover around the idea of the person or place with rose colored glasses, referring to It/Them as "The Best". That's also unhealthy, by the way. But you don't have to whine when the good bye doesn't present itself. Just walk away, it's fine. Exit. Scene. Curtain. End play.
    I have laid waste to more relationships that anyone I know. I dicn't say "good bye", largely because I left in a hurry. The one time I got a good bye was when I left UH, and my friends threw me a party. That was awesome.I liked that.But all it did was make me wish I wasn't leaving, and that made me sad so...I tend to leave quickly.
    If I can manage, I sneak out. I've mastered this at parties, which I no longer attend because I hate them. I don't know anyone anymore, and I'm awkward and I've come to accept and embrace the awkward, which you do not want at your gathering. Unless it's a big social event, like a wedding, then I can hide. I tried to attend student grad parties a few years ago---ugh, what a mess. I found myself in the back yard playing with the dog. Right before leaving LHS I had acquiesced to a few department gatherings, mostly lunch and living room things. I managed to survive and I made everyone in the room cringe only once that I know of when I almost started a fight.
    I like bars and pubs. I like one friend I can sit with and yell above the din. Maybe a couple or two over for dinner, I like that. And those examples have nothing to do with good byes.
     I am weirdly compliant but stubborn, kind yet a dick. It depends on the circumstance and if there's an animal involved. I spout spiritual awareness but will arm wrestle God over a Twinkie. In short: I do not practice what I preach. Not always. So, when it's time to leave a job, let's say, and all the signs are there and I refuse to do so, I flip up the 'hawk and challenge God do a dual.
     And then I'm fired. Or backed into a corner so tightly the only choices are to continue to fight or give my family a break and move on. God wins. Every time.
      I do not make new friends because I fear that the "good bye" will be ugly. I do not have a solid history here, guys, and my recent school year will attest to that. Or It will, once It wakes up from Its nap: It had a rough time.
     I am baffled by teachers who are sobbing because they miss their kids every day.  Granted, a good chunk of these people are in elementary ed, and a few are music teachers. That's a slam dunk for emotion:elementary music. Dude. Those little knee biters can really get to you. The years I've directed them at PAA taught me that. I can imagine a teacher gets really attached after a school year, or two or three. Watching them grow up and lose teeth and say funny things. But they're growing up, dude, the good bye is written into the hello, you knew that when you started, why'd you get attached? Ugh.
     It's the same with high school: They're Gonna Leave.  You get to play with them for a season, and then set them free. That's what I always told them "I built you to fly, so fly."(That was the kinder version, most kids just heard me growl "Love you, mean it, get out.")
     We did awards at Hinkley, and we had to do it online of course. The kids showed up and seemed grateful to be recognized, but I just met them. I literally worked for two months before the 'rona shut us down. I have no idea if they were truly grateful, I don't know if they could give a rat's ass or if they are happy to leave or sad or how befuddled they are as they face their uncertain futures. I just did what I do, followed the ritual of theatre 'cause that's all I know. 
   That's all I know. The Ritual Of Theatre.
   Which will return. 
   In the meantime, I'm wandering through my house like a fart in a mitten, starting and not finishing projects, beginning blogs I'll never complete, walking the dogs and steadfastly marching into the grocery store several times a week because apparently I'm cooking now. There are no deadlines. I'm lost.
   Without a curtain, there is no opening or closing. No entrances or exits.
   "Nothing happens, nobody comes." The existential nightmare.
   Time isn't real.
   The curtain didn't come down, so why are you saying good bye? It's not over.
   But forward is the only direction, and here I am compliant and stubborn.