Virtually Indignant

I admit it. I was indignant.  I looked around the room at my colleagues and took note of their posture - mostly arms crossed and slouched shoulders, eyes shifting from the speaker to their colleagues. Every time someone exhaled a little too loudly or coughed, be it a little raspy one or a deep throaty one, the reaction was wide eyes and then pursed lips. As I considered the germs in the room, I lauded myself for sitting away from others. We were having a faculty meeting just as governments were closing borders and and people were self-isolating because of Covid-19.

To be fair, the UK was lax to react. As borders were closing and staples were disappearing off of shelves, the leadership here was confident in their decision of inaction, and, as opposed to the 50 alarmist articles I had read on-line about the actions of other countries, the UK was happy to participate in something called "herd immunity". I read that as, "We hope you get sick, even if it means your loved ones will die. Because they will. But some will be OK." That's not a direct quote from BoJo, but it sounded like that, as the rest of the world went into duck and cover. The UK would ride that nuke into the great goodnight, cowboy hat in hand, yelling "Yee Haw!" Except they wouldn't yell, "Yee Haw!", they would rationally say, "Right."

In any case, I was testy.

As the speaker went through protocol and patiently addressed concerns, I was already drafting the email in my head. I would be happy to point out the irony of having a face-to-face meeting about the importance of virtual learning during a time of contagion. I think I tempered it a bit, after I wiped off the smugness of the idea. In any case, my boss said she would look into it, and she did. Not only that, she set it up.

And I panicked when I received the link to the next meeting.

I'm not new to virtual meetings. In fact, I got my current job after having had several meetings on Skype. In those cases, I dressed in my best professional attire. I put on layers of foundation. I stacked English 12 textbooks on top of my counter so that the computer camera would project the exact, most flattering angle. I played with lighting and backdrops. Should I be in front of the bookshelf or the fireplace? One said "intellectual bookworm, 'I sometimes wear glasses because I'm smart!'", the other, "comfortable, casual, "it doesn't matter where I am, because I'm cool, but look at my home while you're here". I practiced what I would say. I wrote cue cards. I practiced not looking at the cue cards. And after the stress of it all, I vowed to never interview virtually again.

Next, I had the opportunity to try a new trend: flipping the classroom. I, again, went for the endearing, "I'm not so good with technology" teacher approach, "but you love me because I'm trying." Bless.

Only two kids out of 20 watched the lesson. It was too much work for a meagre return.

Of course, I have Face-timed, video messaged, and Skyped family, but often I tried to be as far away from the camera as possible. "Look at Jack!" I deflect. "Isn't he cute!"

It was with trepidation that I clicked on the meeting link that I had to attend... because I made it happen. I decided I would not allow my camera to film me, and I turned off my microphone, so I wouldn't be heard. I would be incognito, I thought. I would be a little fly on the wall. Still, as the image of the meeting popped-up - my colleagues all looking at me and smiling - I immediately fled, not trusting the measures I had taken to turn off the camera. It would've been an unflattering angle, after all, and I hadn't put on any make-up, much less checked the lighting. I closed my iPad, heart racing, and it took a moment for me to compose myself. Why had I allowed myself to age so much? I mean, really, would it hurt to wear a pore minimising mask occasionally? I could also maybe have done some sit-ups or lunges or something. When I calmed myself, I decided I had to go back. That was the professional thing to do. I told myself to look directly at the camera so my eyes wouldn't do that weird float around thing that happens when people don't know where to look. I took a deep breath.

I, again, joined the meeting..

only to see a room full of people laughing in my direction.

What. the actual. hell!??

I fled again. This time, I actually got up and hopped around the room in that irritated, just got jump-scared way people do when they are annoyed but also amused but mostly annoyed.  I would NOT go back. No way. In fact, I would burn my iPad. Immediately.

I needed wine.

In conclusion: Friends, this social distancing, virtual interaction will be an interesting road to navigate for some of us.  Let's hope there's enough wine.