Here is a synopsis of the CDC guidelines for reopening schools:

I hardly know where to start. I loved a comment by a colleague: “I can’t keep them from picking their nose or putting their hands down their pants.” Convincing 3-year-old kids to keep their masks on? You have a slightly better chance of colonizing the moons of Saturn. Convincing kids not to share crayons when we have been teaching them to share since they entered school? Will they ignore that kid who has trees but no green crayon? Or will someone slip him a crayon? I see a future with crayons and glue sticks being passed surreptitiously under desks and behind teacher’s backs.

How will we begin to teach our whole new system of interaction: Keep those crayons for yourself, dammit! It’s your glue stick! If she doesn’t have a pencil, it’s her problem! Except it will be the teacher’s problem and I predict those teachers who are spending hundreds or more to supply their own classrooms are about to spend larger sums than before.

I love those desks set “six feet apart.” Let’s do the math, We’ll say our classroom is 600 square feet in size. With luck it’s bigger, but elementary rooms often run about 30 x 20 feet. Twenty feet allows for 3 desks since 6 x 3 = 18. Except we have to figure in the actual size of the desks themselves and potentially subtract that. The room may also have cupboards, closets, shelves, and radiators on one or both sides. More realistically, I’d say two desks are possible as we cross that 20 feet, but maybe we can manage three. The thirty feet cannot accommodate 5 desks. Again, we have the size of the desks and chairs to consider. Four rows may be possible. I have not attacked the question of just where we place the teacher. He or she might even want a desk or at least a podium. That’s 8 to 12 students by my count. That’s a lovely size for classroom management. Of course it’s also only half or even a third the size of a usual class. What, oh what, will we do with all those extra students? We can’t get them all in the empty cafeteria — not if they are all six feet apart.

Where will the busses come from? A conventional school bus has 13 rows of seats, less commonly 15 rows. Those busses may transport 72 students. Except under the new rules we can seat 12 -14 kids total due to skipped rows and single seats. Some parents may opt to drive rather than put kids on the bus and staggered start times could help a bit with this problem… but the truth here is we have yet another set of numbers that simply don’t work.

For a more official take on this question: https://www.edweek.org/ew/articles/2020/05/21/too-expensive-to-re-open-schools-some-superintendents.html?cmp=eml-eb-ad_popweek_05292020&M=59584386&U=1591057&UUID=0bd866503bd6b6f20027a88f737fee71#

Carpools might be organized to fill in the gap. Maybe we can use our (nonexistent) extra money to create a whole new system of student transportation based on Ubers. Or we could employ pizza delivery cars, filling student laps with pre-packaged boxed individual pizzas to eat in their classrooms. We could knock out the transportation and lunch challenges in one Domino’s swoop — with lots of healthy vegetables placed between the slices of pepperoni. Uber drivers or pizza delivery guys will definitely be easier to manage than all the as-yet-unhired bus drivers to drive the phantom busses required to somehow get America’s children to school.

I am so clear that the CDC has never investigated the workings of elementary school bathrooms. Or middle school bathrooms. By high school, the water in those bathrooms is no longer flying around — with advancing age, the fascination with faucets and water play does seem to decline — but I recall a middle school student who once spent a whole day skipping school in a boys’ bathroom just a hop and a skip from the front office. He and his friends apparently had a perfectly fine day from his description, despite the smell. I also remember a couple of fire drills that resulted from students throwing water on smoke detection devices. I don’t know how or why that works, but I know I ended up standing out in the snow. Mostly middle school bathrooms work better than elementary school bathrooms, too. Any teacher who lets a large group of elementary or preschool school kids loose unsupervised in a bathroom has not been teaching long or has done a truly excellent job of teaching classroom norms. Because that’s a recipe for play, one that sometimes requires a change of clothes and custodian later. I don’t see how physical barriers or screens will help a lot. Those screens had better be well-secured, and at upper levels districts should plan to lay in the appropriate paint colors to cover the graffiti.

I expect hand washing galore for all the right reasons. But have any of those CDC folks watched a group of elementary kids in the washroom? Semicircular sinks with foot pedals remain common out in our schools. Splash, splash. Giggle giggle. Splash splash. By a certain age, that elementary school teacher can’t easily monitor the opposite sex bathroom either. By middle school and high school… ummm, in addition to the many new expenses the CDC list adds, like phantom busses. we probably should throw in bathroom monitors.

And let’s be clear: Kids are always getting sick. Forget COVID-19 for a moment. If we start taking temperatures, we will find temperatures. There’s this glistening skin, with red eyes and cheeks, although a vampirish pallor can also signal trouble. Sometimes these kids are hunkered down in their hoodies or even winter coats. They tend to be unusually silent. I always send them to the nurse as soon as I spot them. She takes their temperatures, then calls home. When parents are not at home, she sequesters their febrile bodies in the nurse’s office. So will we COVID-test all those students with fevers and coughs? Some months that might add up to one-quarter of a classroom. Daily health and temperature checks? What will we do in the case of temperature spikes when no one is picking up the phone?

Eduhonesty: Little kids won’t wear masks. You can put all the tape you want on the floors. Those properly distanced straight lines will never hold. The expense for those extra busses, gas for the busses, partitions, barriers, screens, duplicate crayons, duplicate glue sticks, duplicate pieces of technology, masks, and extra cleaning supplies? Not to mention staffing the bathrooms? Finding that money would be a miracle given the number of schools in this country that still ration paper for copies.

But the silliest part of this plan has to be the health and temperature tests. The CDC must never have listened to the audio for a late fall or winter classroom. It’s amazing how much coughing goes on in schools in November, December, January and February. Cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough.

In short: Plan A is insanely expensive and therefore utterly impractical.

P.S. In the area of unintended consequences, teachers are currently being riffed or nonrenewed all over the country. My social media feed is a sea of men and women who find they have no job. I am certain that many of those teachers whose jobs evaporated are the victim of numbers — the numbers that making superintendents say that schools cannot reopen under the new guidelines because schools cannot afford to reopen. What do you do when you are a district running on financial fumes — as many districts were before the start of COVID-19? You tell newer staff members that they cannot rely upon a job in the fall. Maybe you even tell them they definitely have no job. Districts afraid they cannot afford their busses will cut staff, waiting until fall to determine the absolute minimum amount of classroom coverage they require. Many of the laid-off will be rehired. But right now, they are freaking out all over my social media feeds.

It’s a poor sort of memory that works only backwards. ~ Lewis Carroll in “Through the Looking Glass”

As I write this, I am part of a historic event. Hundreds of years from now, researchers may view the COVID-19 virus as one pivotal point in the human story of our world. Teachers in that misty future may assign essays based on today’s wayposts, asking students to describe effects of 2020 pandemic.

History unfolds in spite of us sometimes. Many friends and coworkers are sheltering right now. At least one is valiently trying to make the sound work on her Facebook group presentation about Austria. Online learning has been a high hurdle for many to leap, especially those working in technologically disadvantaged communities. This post is not exactly about COVID-19 though; It’s about ancillary damage from the coronavirus. We are so busy trying to manage online education that not enough attention is being given to a big win: Ding dong, the tests are dead. (At least the tests not immediately related to classroom instruction.). Which old tests? The wicked tests.

As fraught as these times have become, I’d like to seize the opportunity they present. All those years of lost voices trying to slow America’s onslaught of testing? Those voices have gone almost silent. For 2020, the standardized tests have been cancelled. They can’t be proctored at home and they can’t be done in a school setting.

That dark cloud cast by COVID-19 is carrying one colossal silver lining. For a brief window in time, students and teachers have been freed from the U.S. testing juggernaut. Why do I call this an opportunity? The massive momentum of testing has been helping to keep those exams in place. Tests became a central topic for the start of the year. PowerPoints showed improvement or lack of improvement as administrators and then teachers brainstormed how to thrust next year’s numbers upward. That focus on numbers instead of students has been underlying much of what has gone wrong in education during the last few decades.

The testing voices will be muted next year. They have no numbers to feed into their spreadsheets. They have no data to insert into Google Slides or PowerPoints. For a short, powerful window, we are free from the infection of test score mania.

May I make a suggestion? When government bureaucrats and school administrations start back-sliding toward numbers instead of students, why not make use of these somber times to deflect that conversation? We have at least one strong starting place for redirecting the conversation: Students have missed varying degrees of instruction, in many areas full weeks of instruction. In the past, testing time was sometimes as high as 15% in major studies. In my own classroom, in the year that I decided to retire, it went over 20%. That much time testing is crazy and always was crazy. Every test day is a lost instructional day.

Eduhonesty: When the push push push to resume our old testing regime comes up, I suggest pushing back. I also implore readers not to drop the issue of excessive testing because of the many challenges facing us as we reopen schools. The perils in the foreground must not be allowed to shut down the testing issue in the background. When the tests slither back in, we have to be ready to object.

“I can’t afford to lose those days for a practice test. We are too far behind on the elements of a plot.”

“Can we eliminate one benchmark test? Too many students are confused about converting fractions to percentages and decimals.”

“Can we afford to lose the time for XYZ test right now? What if school shuts down again? I’m afraid to lose those instructional hours. ”

Or the politically expedient choice might be: ” We are not going to do well on this years standardized test because of all the school we missed. Is there any way we could opt out and focus on instruction instead, at least until we get our students caught up?”

The point to hammer home is that every test presents an opportunity cost. We sacrifice instruction on every single test day. We didn’t have enough time for those tests in the past, not if we go by stagnant and even declining test scores in the schools taking those tests.

Let’s reclaim some of the stolen hours those tests took from U.S.children. The explosion of COVID-19 has blocked 2020’s test avalanche. Maybe we can use this odd piece of luck to help out kids in our classrooms — or kids on their iPads at home in their bedrooms.

Carpe diem, I say.

As we build new memories in our shelters, let’s all look forward. What can we do to use this microbial thunderclap to make the future better?

I will start by sharing an excerpt from a blog post I read this morning: Return To School Or Retire? Pick Your Poison by Dr. Michael Flanagan

“Contemplating retirement is difficult under the best of circumstances, but now that decision has become immensely more complicated. Covid-19 and the economic collapse have created a life and death dilemma for older teachers. Should we retire from teaching and trust in our evaporating pension funds, or return and risk our lives to teach our students again?”

I strongly suggest reading Dr. Flanagan’s article which lays out the tough choices facing educators today. Those choices are the reason why I suggested this might be a good year for the bold to go out on a job search. This might be your year — although I suggest you read my caveats as well. Funding is about to fall through the floor, and if you have tenure in a safe spot, staying put makes sense right now.

But it’s time to begin thinking about your choice if you are nearing retirement or simply reaching a point where you doubt you wish to continue teaching. Making that choice sooner would be the kinder, more responsible action since your district will likely struggle to replace you.

You might want to make a T-Chart. What’s good? What’s not good? I will note that “possible death” is it’s own category of “not good,” in a wholly different league than underpaid, overworked or angry about extreme testing.

Eduhonesty: I don’t have a recommendation, reader. YOU have to make that choice for your own situation. I can tell you that I personally would not find this choice much of a dilemma. In fact, it’s a personal no-brainer. If I had not already retired, I would retire now. I am older, my tricuspid valve leaks, and I frequently catch la maladie du jour. I would be done after this year.

Who would have thought something even more ugly than extreme testing could be lurking in education’s future? But it was. The coronavirus might be a distant memory in ten years, but there probably won’t even be a vaccine in 2020. I think I’ll let other people test that warp speed vaccine for me in 2021, at least for a few months. I definitely do not plan to be one of the first people to test out the new transporter beam.

So reader: Is it time to retire?

https://www.badassteacher.org/bats-blog/return-to-school-or-retire-pick-your-poison-by-dr-michael-flanagan

The following paragraph is taken from my post “Advocate for Yourself.”

“This could be the year of ongoing blizzards, repeated microbial “snow” weeks. Schools will need back-up plans for their back-up plans potentially. Online learning will not become a memory soon. Outbreaks in a school are guaranteed to ensure shut-downs, whether short or long.”

That paragraph may have lost potency as I blogged about the need to communicate with school leaders and others planning for next year. Those future shut-downs should not get subordinated to the agenda for the upcoming year. The threat of repeated shut-downs is not merely real: It is inevitable.

In the absence of a vaccine, people will continue getting ill. The rate will change. The severity will hopefully decrease as medications become more available. But teachers and students will become ill with COVID-19. We are locked into this struggle because those original sick persons in Wuhan were passing the virus on to two to three people apiece when they got sick. That number would rise as high as 3.82 last January. For those interested in “R,” I recommend https://www.newsweek.com/what-coronavirus-r-number-how-contagious-covid-19-1498204 — a good fast explanation of this measure. COVID-19 is easy to catch.

Come next fall, then, what happens when “Ms. T” spikes a fever? With luck, this hot and aching teacher can quickly locate a COVID-19 test. Geography may have a great deal to do with that luck, unfortunately, but the obviously ill now can expect to find tests, even if the process remains inconvenient. For purposes of this hypothetical scenario, we’ll assume that Ms. T does not have to go to the hospital right away. Ms. T sits in the drive-thru line to get swabbed. The test comes back positive.

How many people now are supposed to enter a 14-day quarantine? If Ms. T is an elementary teacher, her whole class to start, but that’s only the start. What if Ms. T had lunch duty? What if Ms. T had been copying papers in the front office? Was the teacher’s lounge open in her school? How many colleagues had lunch with Ms. T before she realized she was sick? Let’s assume they kept their social distance. How big is that lounge? Even with distance, if Ms. T sits in a small enough room for a long enough time, that distance does not guarantee safety. If, Ms. T teaches middle or high school, our scenario rapidly becomes much wilder. Over the course of the day, she may have taught 150 students.

Exposures will be difficult to calculate. The evidence suggests the count may have to start from before Ms. T decided to wait in the testing line. From reports, we know that on the first day, many coronavirus victims don’t know they are sick. A slightly scratchy throat may combine with feeling a bit warm and tired. Sometimes the only sign may be odd, random joint pains that leave people wondering how they strained their muscles. Maybe a slight cough moves in along with a sense of breathlessness and related anxiety. COVID-19 has so many odd symptoms. That first warning shot across the bow might even be a stomach ache or diarrhea.

Why does this matter? Because until testing is vastly better than it is currently, Ms. T may be shedding virus all over the place before she even realizes she is truly sick. We are all used to rationalizing away symptoms of illness. I can’t think how many sick people of my acquaintance have told me, “Oh, it’s my allergies.” only to admit later that, oops, maybe all those sneezes had nothing to do with ragweed pollen or their particular allergen.

I remember my oldest girl calling for advice from her grandparents’ house. She thought she had the flu. She had flown out to visit them a few days earlier on a delightful whim that ended with all three suffering fevers and aches. (Everyone got through that event fine. She had given her mom and the same grandparents the flu about 25 years earlier after another plane flight. When the world opens up, I recommend driving to see grandparents.)

Sickness just happens. Sheltering at home helps. Avoiding exposure helps. But once we open the schools, the shelter automatically shuts down.

Eduhonesty: I am not saying we should not reopen schools. We can’t let the educational system and the economy flatline out of fear. We are going to have to open before the economic landscape becomes a wasteland of failed businesses and dead dreams. We are going to reopen because no viable economic plan allows us to stay shut until everyone has gotten sick or vaccinated. We are also going to reopen because the scientists are not running the show.

But I want fellow teachers to be ready. These are the “snow” weeks of next year. Those closures will happen. When planning next year, expect possible shut-downs. Sometimes the snow never falls. But here in Illinois, they are not even predicting the coronavirus peak until mid-June.

Some of that microbial snow has to fall.

A quick thought: Yes, I know you are swamped. If you are a mom providing help for your children’s online schooling while simultaneously offering your own classes to students who may or may not log on, you are likely inundated with urgent items on growing to-do lists.

BUT THIS MAY BE THE YEAR — THE YEAR YOU MOVE ON TO THE BETTER PAYING, BETTER SUPPLIED DISTRICT DOWN THE INTERSTATE.

Some of those men and women in their fifties and early sixties are planning to retire. I am talking with them. Those with health issues or simply enough time in the system are thinking of cashing out this summer. A number have already done so.

That better-paying district down the road? It almost always offers more support personnel as well as a higher salary. Extra hands can help manage social distancing questions, take children to the nurse, tutor students who fell behind this year, and do many tasks that tend to all fall onto the shoulders of the teacher in our less economically advantaged districts.

U.S. unemployment is nearing 15%. In a few years, I predict changing positions will become more challenging. Desperate states will relax teacher requirements in response to their teacher shortages. At least some of the newly unemployed from other fields will choose to enter teaching, going back to college to add courses toward teacher certification. As unemployment moves up into the stratosphere, the teaching shortage may ironically evaporate. I can’t say for sure — no one can yet — since more cautious individuals may opt to stay away from a calling that demands so much social contact. But after awhile, when no other appropriate position materializes for that professional in their late 30s or 40s, at least some bolder souls will decide to make use of their physics or English degree in the classroom.

I don’t guarantee a teacher shortage in a couple of years. But I do guarantee that shortage NOW.

Eduhonesty: Feeling overwhelmed? If so, you are far from alone. BUT THIS IS AN EXCELLENT TIME TO BUMP “JOB SEARCH” BACK UP TO THE TOP OF YOUR LIST. If you were planning to look for a better position, I strongly suggest you let drop a few of the flaming swords you are juggling, and start juggling those online employment site searches instead.

Even if you weren’t planning to search for another position, I recommend thinking about your district. Have you been carrying the world on your shoulders alone? Did you have eight kids with IEPs in your third period class this year with no aides? Do you always lose your planning periods because of extra duty? Do you make $15,000 less than your next-door-neighbor, a woman with less education who has taught for two fewer years than you?

Here’s my last observation: Teachers tend to stay in more difficult schools because those schools are their schools. They are White Sox fans, not Cubbies fans. They are true to their school, even with its broken water fountains and revolving door administrators. And that’s a good thing. I was true to my school until I retired. I accepted the lower pay and broken door knobs and lost planning periods. I did it for the kids. But this year will be a lot tougher than previous years and those who are also parenting with spouses in iffy employment situations should consider whether this might be the time to make a change.

P.S. If you have the requisite years into a union district and have tenure, I would be very cautious about leaving. Job security may be worth that hit in pay and lack of aides, especially if you have confidence in district administrators. That Principal who has always listened to you and had your back has an intangible value, especially as we navigate COVID-19 waters.

And make sure that a new district will give you full or at least adequate credit for previous years of experience before you make a move. When different districts award steps based on previous experience, those steps may be capped and other rules sometimes apply. One district might only give credit for six previous years. Another might offer full credit for the first six years and one step’s credit for every two years after that. Even with step limits, though, a financially stronger district may result in better pay, despite loss of credit for previous years.

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Many of us are entirely occupied trying to get through this school year. Some of us are being evaluated on this performance, even as we juggle the online learning of our students and our own children, while sharing technology with family members who are working at home. In these circumstances, a be-here-now approach to daily life is entirely understandable. Who wants to think about impending meat shortages? Or teaching toilet paper rationing to kids only a few years out of diapers? Hugs to my many readers who are juggling a growing set of flaming swords.

But we educators should start thinking seriously about next year. When possible, teachers should be communicating with their districts and even school board members. Your school board may at this very moment be making decisions that will define the quality of your life next year.

Will your school shift to staggered start times in order to cut class sizes? Another model breaks the school into different grades on different days — first, third and fifth grades attend Monday, Wednesday and Thursday for example. Will students and teachers be expected to wear face coverings? How will the district set up busses? Depending on virus levels in the area, mass transit can pose a major infection risk to students and drivers. How will lunch be managed? What about recess? More lunch periods equals fewer students per table. Will those half-hour lunches begin at 10:00 A.M. and end at 2:30 P.M.? In many crowded schools, lunches already begin before 11:00 A.M.. I would expect school assemblies and sporting events to be cancelled in areas where COVID-19 is prevalent.

The virus won’t be contained by fall. Any pipe dreams that include the mysterious disappearance or even control of the coronavirus should be understood for the fantasies that they are. We will have better control of COVID-19 soon, enough to reopen schools in many areas. The curve has been flattening. Medical treatment has been improving. As states add more and better testing, hopefully combined with robust contact tracing, schools and even preschools should reopen.

This fact raises a set of questions for school boards, administrations and classroom teachers. What will this look like in the classroom? Will schools continue the social/physical distancing that now dominates public interactions? How will educators control for this? Staggered start times can help decrease crowding, but may also steal break and planning time. Whether class size goes up or down, how will teachers convince little kids to stay apart? I talked to a Principal today who observed that kindergartners naturally want to touch everything and everybody when they first get to school. Many are natural huggers, and we can’t put them all in individual, giant hamster balls. I guarantee they won’t stay in masks. The littlest ones will fail distancing regularly. And adolescents? Yes, teenagers can understand the concepts involved in keeping their distance, but they have a bad habit of viewing themselves as immortal. Will close contact be a disciplinary infraction?

Class sizes may be going up too, not down. Teacher shortages are already problematic in some areas. “Early” retirements appear inevitable. Some of those men and women with 28 years into the system will decide 28 years is enough, depending on their pension structures.

And what if a new coronavirus wave starts and school campuses are shut down again? This could be the year of ongoing blizzards, repeated microbial “snow” weeks. Schools will need back-up plans for their back-up plans potentially. Online learning will not become a memory soon. Outbreaks in a school are guaranteed to ensure shut-downs, whether short or long.

Here’s the big question: What does this mean for you?

School boards across the country are debating plans. Administrators are beginning to decide between options for scheduling. Depending on contracts, school days may automatically lengthen in response to these plans. Some plans involve taking temperatures and answering screening questions before staff and students are allowed in the door.

Issues of equity loom. How will districts help students who have fallen behind because of lack of access to online learning? How will districts prepare for possible future online learning? Summer school and tutoring are traditional methods to address students who missed material, but how will that school and tutoring be structured?

So many questions, and as yet so few definitive answers.

Eduhonesty: Teacher readers, it’s time to up periscope! What are your district leaders doing? I recommend you communicate with fellow teachers and communicate with your school board. Communicate with friends who have the ear of local district decision makers. Ask administration about plans that are evolving. Parents, please communicate too! Do you have helpful ideas? Hopefully better ideas than giant plexiglass hamster balls to put around your kindergarteners?

When creating a new system, it’s always best to get as much right at the start as possible. Getting this next year right will include understanding the authentic behavior of students, a factor that disappeared from the planning process of education brainstorms like NCLB and the Common Core. How do kids act? How will they react to proposed changes? Online learning suffered heavily from a lack of buy-in in the recent past. If we continue online, how can we improve student participation? A podcast does no good when no one watches it.

How will we organize lines? Library visits? Even the act of walking in the front door poses challenges. Teachers can help with these questions. Teachers might want to post these questions to a few people. They might want to suggest laying in a large supply of colorful duct tape to place in strategic spots across the floors of classrooms and other public spaces. Those purchase orders take time sometimes, and kids who have no idea what six feet might be can easily recognize a bright orange piece of tape.

Many of my readers are frantically busy right now. If this plea to communicate sounds overwhelming, please feel free to ignore me. Go make yourself a latte or another presentation for your online classroom instead. Or bake a delicious banana bread with rum topping. Do anything fun that will help you stay centered.

But I did want to put the idea of communication out there because many decisions are being made right now. Hiring for the year is happening right now. Decisions on reopening are likely right around the corner in some areas, Depending on your situation, you may want to make your voice heard.

Eduhonesty: We’re not going back to “normal” in the near future. We don’t know where we are going. If we must boldly go where no one has gone before, I suggest we try to pack as few surprises as possible into that trip.

P.S. I feel compelled to close with a caveat: If you are currently operating at full capacity, well, even Captain America took a few decades off to marry his beloved Peggy Carter. Steve Rogers made time for his dance. Please, reader, set aside your own dance time. Superheroes and teachers are entitled to relax with their kids or wheaten terrier sometimes, instead of saving the world.

P.P.S, With all the crazy, you may not want to even think about employment applications, but this could be the ideal time to search for that better paying position closer to home.

At least some readers should put today’s eduhonest.com entry in the “job hunt” category.

There will be an absolutely gruesome shortage of substitute teachers next year. I wrote earlier posts on subbing when the number of available sub positions began climbing early this year, but those posts were short term thoughts. I stand by the advice in “Yes, We Have No Substitutes Today” and hope it will help teachers to get the back-up they need, but I am afraid my advice will not help teachers in more challenging schools next year.

Schools may open in the fall. If they do, most of those retired men and women who form a fat percentage of many sub pools will not be clicking on the openings on their screens. The job pays poorly — in some areas less than $100 per day. For a great number of retired subs, subbing represents a little spending money and a reason to get up and change out of their pajamas. Subbing is often fun for retired teachers, a chance to read “A Porcupine Named Fluffy” to the crowd on the rug, or to share the story of the American Revolution with older kids.

But subbing is also an adventure in ducking germs. Cough, cough. Cough. Cough. “Can I go to the nurse?” The stream of kids headed to the Kleenex box throughout the day comes with the territory.

I don’t think many retirees will listen to that coughing next year. Until a viable vaccination becomes available, balancing the $100 per day against COVID-19 risk, I expect former subs to stay home and take long dog walks instead. Maybe a few will look into getting their real estate licenses. In the meantime, teachers will end up covering for each other during their students’ specials and their own planning periods.

Eduhonesty: As you consider where and what you may be teaching next year, if you are given any choice, I would keep these thoughts on subbing in mind. If I were searching for a teaching position, I would want to know how a possible district paid subs in comparison to nearby districts. The subs won’t exactly vanish. Young, aspiring teachers will still be there. Hearty moms with education credits and all their kids in school should mostly be showing up too. But if the pool shrinks significantly, those districts that pay $95 per day will go wanting while the district that pays $120 will find more help.

I would also talk to district teachers about their personal sub situations since money makes up only part of the equation. Supportive administrations and engaged students will attract subs even when the money is not great. Big red flag: Problems getting substitutes last year should make teacher candidates cautious. Any district that encountered sub troubles in 2019 will be in greater trouble — maybe much greater trouble depending on the make-up of their sub pool — in 2020.

I strongly recommend adding the sub factor into any job search this year.

Lack of subs may sound innocuous to those without experience — but going day after day with lost planning periods can be extremely rough. And those planning periods will disappear. If Mr. X is out with the flu, someone has to cover Mr. X’s classes. That “someone” becomes a group of teachers who give up their planning times to take over Mr. X’s classes throughout the day. An administrator may step in on occasion, but mostly the burden is shouldered by other teachers who may pick up a little extra pay, but who lose the downtime during their days.

P.S. I expect requirements to become a substitute to be relaxed soon. This might become the right time to invite the right friend or neighbor to join the sub pool in your school.

I am not going to put forth a long, reasoned post against the idea of evaluations in this time. Kudos to those districts and states who are dropping teacher evaluations for the year. A walk down the Hall of Shame for any others. I am just going to share a comment by a young friend who captured the drama of evaluating teachers harshly in this (and other) times:

“A job evaluation should not feel like your dog just got hit by a car.”

No PD speaker, book or journal article has ever expressed this idea better in my view. Even if Charlotte Danielson meant well, and those State Departments of Education were trying to boost test scores as best they could, the fact is that many evaluation instruments are filled with slots that represent ambushes in a time when at least some administrators feel “there’s always room for improvement,” a phrase that tends to translate to “almost nobody ever gets an “Excellent” or “Distinguished” in anything.”

Eduhonesty: During the coronavirus craziness, I’d ask those people who are still inexplicably evaluating teachers to remember the above phrase:

“A job evaluation should not feel like your dog just got hit by a car.”

Hugs to to everyone who is staring at that evaluation in disbelief, especially those parents who have been trying to homeschool while also teaching their classes and keeping homebound children from bouncing off the walls. I’ll add one more thought: The relationship that always makes you cry? They call that relationship “toxic” — and usually recommend that you walk away as soon as you are able to set up a safe departure plan. I might start by finding happy colleagues within the many social media groups online. Ask yourself: where would I rather teach? Then check the postings.

I read a post from a coworker yesterday, a coworker who was “feeling furious.” She is trying to manage district on-line learning demands. She ended up starving by day’s end — no time for food — and “in tears, shaking and nauseous.” Teacher friends commiserated, sharing that they also had no time for family, food or friendly video chats.

Eduhonesty: Today’s message is simple. Until and unless school districts can provide childcare for the teachers in their district who are sheltering at home, they need to back off. Teachers should be given the time they require to take care of themselves and their own children. Newsflash for administrators: You can’t save this year. It’s lost. I’d suggest trying to hold on to the loyalty and support of your staff for next year.

Many of America’s teachers are home with their children, expected to provide home-schooling for their own children while also texting, calling, and emailing all 26 families in their classrooms. These educators are helping their own children to find and manage online classroom demands, while making meals, managing emotional trauma, helping with loneliness, playing ball, finding other games for bored kids, managing overuse of electronics inside the home, in addition to all the regular parenting tasks that suck up each day in bits and pieces: baths, laundry, kitchen, bathroom and floor cleaning, cat care, dog walks, paying bills, changing lightbulbs, checking on parents, family and friends, and finally bedtime stories. In too many cases, those educators are then skipping that post-bedtime relaxation, instead calling families whose children are not going online because mom, dad or someone has decided that online learning is interfering with COVID-19 life. Title of an Education Week news article that I just discovered on my phone: “Where are they? Students go missing in shift to remote classes.” In the absence of a 48-hour day, this set-up is a perfect recipe for a major emotional meltdown. Some administrators are forcing teachers to drive books and materials out to student’s porches. Even single or older teachers without children at home are sometimes being expected to work nonstop all day with glitchy technology to produce… what? “Rigorous common lesson plans” that perhaps almost no one will complete?

Newsflash for clueless administrators: You can’t make parents do anything they don’t want to do right now. This craziness should stop, stop, stop. I can guarantee readers that the children of the teachers in the middle of this on-line push will not say on some future career day, “I want to be a teacher.” At this rate, nobody will ever want to be a teacher again.

May I suggest a trip to https://www.nytimes.com/2020/03/19/opinion/coronavirus-home-school.html ? Dr. Jennie Weiner is an associate professor of educational leadership and she does a stellar job of explaining why she is not doing Coronavirus homeschooling — at least not the homeschooling being thrown at her as an option. Parents are always homeschooling, every day. I’d say we ought to let parents decide how they want to do their homeschooling right now. If that’s an opt-out, then teachers should be left alone to accept parents’ wishes.

And, damn, can we forget about grades? Grades are stupid this spring. What are we grading? Access to technology in many cases. It’s hard to work on a phone and a phone may be all the connection students own. We are grading competition with siblings in others. That kid with four brothers and sisters? He may not be getting a lot of screen time and his parent or parents may not have time to do the day’s packet with him. Levels of cooperation by parents will also be part of any grade. Jennie Weiner has opted out of homeschooling and I’d guess she has millions of counterparts in greater or lesser degree. Then there’s the problem of the parent who has to use the household technology to work from home… I loved this FB quote, too: “Ugh. Dear webinars, plz just make slides I can download and read? I am not an auditory learner!” Current online lessons may be more problematic for the auditory learner than the visual learner, but the fact is that many kids benefit from classroom interventions that help them access material they cannot effectively read. Those interventions may not exist in the home. The huge and manifold inequities inherent in the shift to online learning should automatically shut down any idea of spring grades.

I am not against providing schooling for children at home. Schools should make this treacherous time a period of enrichment, an early summer school creative writing class with fun reading assignments for those who will read, adding in recreational mathematics at free sites and certainly art projects and fun days. This is a perfect time to let children post pictures of themselves to virtual classrooms, showing their braids sticking up through paper plates and donuts for crazy hair day.

P.S. Fellow teachers, if your routine is bringing you to tears, I suggest letting some of the home rules go by the wayside. If administrative demands are making you feel frantic or overwhelmed, well, another episode of Power Rangers Beast Morphers honestly won’t matter in the long-run. A few hours of phone games won’t rot anyone’s brain. I suggest sitting down to watch Stranger Things with the older crowd. Let go, let go, let go. Do what you have to do to get by. Then make cocoa for everybody and ignore those emails until you feel ready for them.

WebQuests: Life is a webquest right now. My current quest involves getting Amazon Prime to give me a window for a Whole Foods delivery. Two have escaped already, for no reason I understand. I think the pantry will eventually send me canned pineapple. The run on peaches seems to have wiped out any supply. I managed to order Coffee Mate, which my spouse considers palatable. As to Whole Foods and Amazon, the site’s simply overloaded, I fear.

Readers who are not as far into the crazy as Cook County in Illinois – please pay heed! I drove a girlfriend with vision troubles out to stock up on paper goods a few weeks ago. She declined that last package of toilet paper I tried to put in her cart. Well, she’s running low and there is no toilet paper. A couple of days ago, she went out to a favored area grocery store. They were selling one roll for one dollar with a limit of one to a customer. This morning they had none. The quest for TP is in full swing around here. People attack like a battery of starving barracuda when a pallet of that precious white paper is unloaded. I know people who have driven around for hours to do battle with the Invasion of the Toilet Paper Snatchers.

This post was going to be about webquests for students and I will finish that quest in the next day or two – I love to create webquests – but I thought I might put in a practical post today. Are you in a smaller city that has not yet been hit hard? Or even an out of the way area with no or almost no cases?

I’m about to write a few unpopular thoughts. But I want to help. And I know I am right.

Wherever you are, you are probably too late to find masks or hand sanitizer. If not, BUY THEM NOW. You don’t have to load up like some gouger headed to EBay, But the truth is – AND ALWAYS WAS – that the evidence suggests that wearing a mask helps you to avoid getting sick. All that talk about how masks don’t really help because you will put your hands on your face to adjust your mask? I strongly suspect that talk was meant to slow a panic run on masks during a time when health care workers throughout the country need those masks badly. But you may also need at least one mask badly. During panic buying, many people do not respect one another’s space. Shelter in place does not always work; Trips to pharmacies and stores happen despite good planning.

If you can’t find a mask, here’s a webquest for you. Go online to find information on how to make one. Apparently you can use old bras. If I did that, I’d probably stick a few Avengers stickers or something on my mask. If you are going to be absurd, well, push it to the limit! We can use a few laughs right now.  Don’t poke holes in your new mask with your Ironman pin, though.

Gloves can be hard to find. You might get lucky at a dollar store or smaller establishment. The medical ones may fit better, but a washable plastic with sausage fingers, like those used for scrubbing the sinks, is a functional alternative.

Buy the damn toilet paper in quantity. First, estimate your need and usage. I strongly suggest you do the best job on the math that you can. Plan to buy at least six week’s toilet paper and maybe more. The toilet paper in the greater Chicago area may mysteriously reappear at any time, but it remains a shortage item, with people on neighborhood websites sharing sightings that tend to work for only short windows of time. Truth: Some families with kids are struggling. People with three or four kids at home all day use a LOT of toilet paper. For the moment, we are fine in my house, but my fondness for fiction about zombies and plagues helped me out here. I nevertheless watch our usage nervously despite the fact that we were better prepared than many others. When estimating quantities to purchase, be careful to take into account that usage can soar up into the stratosphere when the whole family is homebound.  

Buy the water too. When I first looked at the gallons of water going by in those packed SUVs, I’d say to friends, “I don’t get it. It’s not a hurricane!” But my village had a water advisory yesterday due to low pressure. The break in the main was fixed quickly and my family suffered only minor aggravation from low-pressure showers. Down the road, they had a boil order however. You do not want to have to make a trip to the store for water once hundreds of people in your area are documented as ill. That assumes the water is there. Water supplies in suburban Cook County do appear to be holding, despite being obviously depleted, but regional supplies may differ. You could get by with fizzy water in a pinch, but I’d still recommend picking up water. I got Costco water and I have a fair number of bottles, bottles I can use when school reopens. Water keeps. I’m sorry about supporting plastic bottles, but I suggest you throw water into your shopping anyway.

Other items to pick up if possible: Clorox wipes or the like, bleach for when the wipes run out, yogurt and canned fruit – those items are in short supply, with canned fruit gone in some places. Regular rice, sugar and flour may now be rarer than toilet paper. Yeast went especially fast.

Dairy products are complex because of rapid spoilage. More expensive lactose free milks often have dates far out in the future. Soy, almond and cashew milks also last awhile. Milk and eggs do seem to keep making their way into the stores here, but the supply is erratic. I recommend a big carton or two of liquid egg whites in addition to regular eggs – more if you have a larger family.

Items to freeze include meat and bread. I’d say load up on frozen vegetables. Be sure to get some variety too. I did not do well enough on this score – too many green beans and bags of corn. I was late out of the gate on my veggies and the supply was extremely low.

Don’t think, “I will order from Amazon if necessary.” Delivery dates are weeks out for many items. My phone constantly tells me how much Amazon will pay me if I please, please, go to work for them. My phone also gave me a blast yesterday, shutting down a conversation with a friend. She, my husband and I all received a message at the same time telling us that if we were licensed healthcare professionals we should go to some website to sign up to work. Right now, sirens are going off in the background, We are living in fraught times. Deliveries are a matter of luck and Amazon/Whole Foods requires more luck than I have had in days. My favorite store was booking out a few weeks before it simply stopped booking. Adding to the delays are walk outs and protests by Instacart and other providers of food –  reader, if you are in a location that is only beginning its COVID-19 ramp-up, please do that shopping.

In fact, here’s your webquest for today: Go to the Amazon pantry and try to do your regular shopping. You don’t actually have to make a purchase. Just try to fill your cart and see what happens. Try to buy “peaches.” See what you can find — and more importantly, what you can’t.

One caveat: Avoid long, packed lines of crazy. If the idea is to get off the streets and avoid contact, standing in line in a store for an hour behind a bunch of people with 100 items will not help you avoid contact. Pick off-hours as best you can, and multiple 15 item or less shoppings may work better than a full frontal assault on the grocery store. If possible, wear the mask and gloves for shopping. At first, and before people start wearing those masks and gloves around you, the protective gear may seem like an overreaction or feel otherwise embarrassing. But there’s no sense getting sick while you are trying to go to ground to avoid getting sick.

Hugs and love, I’ll do that student webquest post soon. I decided to write today’s post after a sobering drive out into the world this afternoon. I ducked the main post office because letters were sticking out of the blue mail boxes and I did not want my letter to fall out. I went to another suburb to mail my letter. That suburb had space in the mailbox, but garbage was flowing out all around the garbage can beside the mail. I get it. No one is willing to touch other people’s refuse. The stores looked about 3/5s as full as usual to judge by the parking lots. And many people are now wearing masks, those who managed to find masks anyway.

Eduhonesty: This post is a heads up for people who are behind on the timeline, the ones in distant places that are not under siege. Maybe many of you will escape this reality entirely. Absent population density, spring breakers, and major airports, I am expecting many areas will not be clobbered by the Coronavirus the way New York, Seattle, and Chicago have been.

But don’t let people talk you out of the mask if it’s still in your store somehow and don’t let them talk you out of the toilet paper, Clorox wipes and bleach. Do the math. You don’t want to hoard, but you do need to be ready. Then fill your cart as high as you must to take care of yourself and your family. Don’t fill your garage or load up on unnecessary supplies that health care workers require – those EBay resellers with their $50 bottles of hand sanitizer are disgusting – but provide for yourself and your family. If a family member has a must-eat, daily cereal, buy eight boxes. Don’t set yourself up for a Raisin Bran emergency. Assume you may be stuck in your house for weeks or even a few months. Those months begin to look possible here. I’d guess six weeks is the shortest window for my staycation and I don’t guarantee I won’t be here longer.

Shortages in my area even include Tylenol. Supplies are low and apparently some hospitals have run out at points. Plan to order medications and other medical supplies well in advance and in the largest quantities your insurance will allow. Stock up on OTC items like Nexium or Pepcid if those are part of your routine. Here’s another web search for readers not yet in the hot zone: Search shortages in affected areas; I have likely missed a few that may affect you personally.

P.S. Don’t think, “I will just order out.” That sounds fine at first, until the numbers ramp up. My brother and I had a brief exchange yesterday. He’s in Seattle and I am about 35 traffic-light minutes from Chicago. He’s getting uncomfortable about McDonald’s and I skipped Starbucks on my way back from the pharmacy and mail run. Yes, pick-up options are out there. But low-wage food service workers cannot be expected to stay home when slightly ill. The evidence is rolling in, too, that a person does not even have to be sick (or sick yet) to pass on this virus. My husband and I would have ordered pizza a few weeks ago, but yesterday we took a pass.

P.P.S. As we ramped up, I kept throwing chocolates into my shopping — dark chocolate peanut butter cups, dark chocolate sea salt caramels, Snickers Creamy peanut butter squares and the like. Don’t forget to grab boxes of treats from above the frozen food in Trader Joes. I’d suggest tossing in a few cake mixes too, assuming you are not deeply immersed in the low-carb lifestyle. Somehow, a small chunk of chocolate after dinner — or licorice or whatever your favorite candy — does make the world better.