Teaching in the Time of COVID

Do I look as scared as I feel?

In case you can't tell, this is I, on my way to teach my hybrid classes at SLCC this lovely fall semester. After moving fully online last spring and remaining online through summer semester, SLCC decided to try a hybrid format this fall. Students come once a week for just 40 minutes, so I never have more than six in the classroom at any one time. Yes, it's certainly safer than in normal times when I have 24 at once, but still, I'm scared. I haven't spent 40 minutes inside a building (other than my house) with other people in six months!

My classes at UVU are still fully online, and for that I am grateful. But this past week, I put on this lovely getup and headed to SLCC to teach my hybrids. The five to six students in each session sat distanced, both from me and from each other. They stayed glued to their seats, not allowed to move around the room.  They kept their masks on. They complied willingly with all the requirements. Again, I'm grateful.

As for me, let's just say that this mask/shield deal isn't ideal for teaching, and adding reading glasses doesn't help. I wear glasses only for close-up work, so I put them on and take them off over and over throughout my classes. Reaching under the shield to do that is about as awkward as you can imagine. Then, the second I put them on, they fog up so badly that I can't see anything anyway.

Oh, and let's not forget that my claustrophobia kicks in after about 20 minutes wearing this stuff, so I have to remind myself to breathe s-l-o-w-l-y. My poor, poor students!

Do I hope someone in my class tests positive for the virus, so we all go home (online) for two weeks? Of course not! Do I hope we have a breakout on campus sufficient to send everyone home? No. Instead, I hope that in time I adjust to the mask and shield, the foggy glasses, and the claustrophobia.

And I have more respect than I can tell you for healthcare workers on the front line, who wear this stuff for 12-hour shifts. Heroes they are.

Grabbin' Grace!

When you're in the process of selling a house and building a new one; and a viral pandemic lurks about, just waiting to make you deathly ill; and you've been in two car accidents in the past month; and a new semester begins next week, you grab grace wherever you can find it. And I promise you, my dear friends, there is grace to be found, sometimes in the most unlikely places.

For example, it may seem odd to find grace in two car wrecks, but I did exactly that. The first accident was clearly my fault. Don't ask how because I have no idea, but I somehow managed to run a red light. It happened so fast, and I was so shaken and so scared. I jumped out of the car to go check on the other driver: "Are you okay?" He didn't answer my question, but instead declared, "I had the right of way; I have it here on camera." Not an iota of concern for my well-being. No grace. This made me cry, and I ran right back to my car and called Shulamith.

Not two weeks later, the second accident occurred. As the title of that post indicates, this time it wasn't my fault. I was stopped, signaling to turn left and waiting for oncoming traffic to pass, when I was rear-ended. Again, I got out of my car and ran to the other driver with the same question, "Are you okay?" She was fine physically but terribly distraught. Like me two weeks earlier, she had no idea how this happened. "Yes, I'm okay," she said. "Are you? I'm so, so sorry!" By this point her stress level escalated to where she was nearly panicking. In that moment, I was so grateful to be able to comfort her: "You're okay," I said. "All that matters is that we are both okay. That's why they call this an 'accident,' because no one meant for it to happen. Please don't worry. All is well." This calmed her. In the end, she apologized yet again but also thanked me for being so kind. Just grabbin' grace!

As you're probably aware, this past week was the Democratic National Convention. This may not be super important to you, but I come from a zealous political family, and though we are dyed-in-the-wool Democrats, I've been watching the conventions of both political parties for as long as I can remember. It's just what we do. I'm proud to say that our Isaiah is every bit as much invested in the political process as his dad and me. Gerald works nights so he couldn't watch with us, but Isaiah and I were glued to the TV all four evenings. There was so much grace there.

I spoke to another family member after Michelle Obama's speech Monday night. He said her speech made him sad, sad to see how far our country has fallen in the past 3.5 years. I get that; I do. Yet I also found hope in her message. She said she believes in the promise that is America. She said we can do better, and I agree. It's not too late. It can't be. There is too much good in this country and in the soul of its people to allow one sadistic bully, one arrogant, racist, sexist, homophobic, law-breaking narcissist to destroy us. We will fight back. We will resist. We will elect Joe Biden in November. We will grab grace! Stephen Colbert said he might have contracted a case of "The Hopes" last week. No dry cough, he said, but his face did leak several times. Mine too, Stephen. Mine too.

Finally, there is grace to be found in the simple humor of families, the endearing spirits of those closest to us, the only ones we see regularly these days, those part of our personal COVID bubbles. They make us laugh in the wake of uncertainty, and this laughter reminds us that life is still so, so good. Shulamith's 8-year-old son Swen told his mom that she probably needs to take me to a giant parking lot, so I can practice driving where I won't get in any crashes. He also suggested that I go back to college and learn how to drive.

Then there's Seth. Who thinks the only place to eat is Panda Express. Every single day:

Seth: Is there dinner tonight?

Me: Sure, what would you like?

Seth: Panda.

Me: No, I'm really tired of Panda.

Seth: Mom, I think it's Satan telling you that you don't want Panda. It's in the scriptures, I'm pretty sure, that Panda is always the right choice.

Then there's everyone else in my family, who routinely asks me every time I drive anywhere if I managed to get there without getting into a crash. So far, the answer is yes. Driving might be terrifying, but so far, no more crashes.

May you have a wonderful week ahead, as you look for grace in all things, and when you find it, grab every bit.

I don't even really like cars; I just like transportation.

As I wrote about here and also here, the last couple of weeks have been rough. Not only have I been in two car accidents, but I've also been right smack in the middle of our home sale negotiations, prepping the house for photographs, showings, inspection, and appraisal. I'm tired of all of it and desperately yearn for the boring life that was mine just a short time ago. With my car totaled came the issue of transportation. My lifestyle requires that I own a car, and drive it, though at this very moment, I'd prefer to do neither.

While I love to shop for most things, there is hardly anything I enjoy less than car shopping. I like grocery shopping, for example (and I miss it these days, as I do almost all curbside pickup to reduce the risk of contracting COVID19). I enjoy shopping for gifts, even when I don't know the person I'm shopping for. Today I helped Shulamith pick out the cutest little set of PJs for her and Matt's niece. More than anything, I love shopping for clothes! I delight in the whole process: wandering the stores; rummaging through racks to find the perfect style, color, and size; trying on dozens of cute things in the fitting room; heck, I even enjoy paying for the clothes, and of course, wearing them is the icing on the proverbial cake! One day again, when this virus is controlled, I see a major shopping spree in my future.

But car shopping? No thank you. I don't even really like cars; I just like transportation. But despite being terrified to drive and hating to shop for cars, Shulamith and I braved up and went out a couple days ago and again today. As we were deciding between a Ford Escape and a Nissan Rogue, neither of which I particularly wanted (again, I just need a car!), we happened to walk past this bright red Dodge Journey crossover SUV.

Well, what could I do? I mean, really, what choice did I have? This is exactly my previous car, just one year newer, with leather seats and a backup camera. It's even red, my most favorite color! I told Charles the sales rep that I would buy this car. And I did.

And that would be the end of this story, other than to offer a brief shoutout to the dealership CarMax. Truly, I will never go anywhere else to buy a car. Here are some reasons why:

1. No salespeople lurking around outside, ready to pounce on you like vultures when you try to walk in.

2. Zero pressure to buy anything.

3. The price is the price is the price. There is no negotiation, no soliciting help from the manager to make some sort of sketchy deal, making you feel like you're being played.

4. Total transparency about financing. No surprises or added fees at the very end when you're so tired of being there, you'll sign anything just to escape.

Really. Go to CarMax. Even if you're like me and don't really like cars but just need transportation, it's the best place to go.

This one wasn't my fault, but I still feel so bad!

So I don't know what has caused this sudden influx of terrible luck, but I've been in two car accidents in the past two weeks!

Is the universe out to get me? Maybe it's because I switched up the saying "When it rains, it pours" to "When it shines, it burns"? Whatever the cause, I'm so done.

Monday afternoon, I took Isaiah's car to run some errands. You know how they say most accidents happen within 1.5 miles from your house? Well this happened one block from my house. I was headed home, stopped on 8000 S., signaling to turn left onto 400 E. against oncoming traffic, when suddenly, I was rear-ended, causing me to spin out of control in a full circle. It was so scary!

The good news is I was not hurt at all, and neither was the poor, distraught lady who hit me. She got out and right away began apologizing all over herself. I felt so bad for her. I felt equally bad for Isaiah and his crunched car.

Like really awful. Yes, the lady's insurance company will cut Isaiah a check for the value of the car, but no, it won't replace the emotional attachment he has to it. Isaiah bought this car when he graduated from college and paid it off about a year ago. Not many cars built in 2010 have roll-up windows and manual locks, but this one did, and oh how Isaiah loved it! I would give anything to find him another just like it, but I doubt I'll be able to.

And by the way, now I'm terrified to drive, which is one thing I actually never had any anxiety about previously. Ugh. I've only driven once since this latest accident, and that was to test drive a possible new car for me. I tried to convince Shulamith to test drive it for me, but she thought I should drive it myself, since it would be my car. I did it, but I didn't like it. Everywhere I looked were other cars, and all I could think was, "Which one of you is going to run into me next?"

If I could get along without driving, I definitely would, but it's just not practical with my life. So whether I buy this particular car or not (haven't decided for sure), I will need to buy some car, and I will need to drive.

Wish me luck. I obviously need it.

We can do lots of things, we Webster women.

We can teach English to Chinese kids.
We can teach writing to community college students.
We can even cook well enough to keep our children alive.

But just you wait to hear about our latest accomplishment...

WE CAN GROOM DOGS!

Not even kidding.

Backstory: We got Shulamith's dog Woof five years ago. He was a little, round ball of black, fluffy fur, an Aussie Shepherd/Standard Poodle mix. You could barely find him in all that fur. That little fur ball grew to be an 85-lb beast! He is really such a nice dog, but very big. And not only did he grow, but his hair grew as well. Imagine that. It grew and grew and grew. He even had some stylin' dreadlocks goin' on.

Well, all this fur on an 85-lb dog made him hot and uncomfortable, especially in this season, so when we took him and his BFF Waffles (my dog) to Doggie daycare, they suggested we bring him back to be groomed (meaning, they wanted to shave off most of his thick, matted hair; even the dreads would have to go). We knew this was for his own good, so I gently explained to him that he'd need to find a new hairstyle that didn't include dreadlocks, and that he'd still look very handsome. We booked an appointment, but when we took him back, he was either too spooked or the groomer was too nervous; I'm not sure which? Maybe a combo? Regardless, we picked him up, un-groomed.

Then Shulamith had this idea that maybe we could do it ourselves. Because, you know, we figured if a professional dog groomer felt she couldn't groom the dog, surely we could. So we grabbed a pair of scissors and went to work. We took turns. One of us cut hair, while the other calmed Woofie with words of encouragement and lots of pets and loves. Then we switched roles, back and forth. Woof was such a good boy. He lay perfectly still for the most part, enjoying all the attention.

You guys! We cut off SO MUCH HAIR! Oh my goodness. It's not perfect, but way better. Matt even said we did a good job, and that says a lot, trust me. I wish I had before and after pics, but all I have is this "in process" shot that Amanda took:

We can do lots of things, we Webster women. We can groom dogs.

"Well you see, I served at the start of COVID19."

Had life not turned upside down, today is the day all of us would have piled into the car and driven to the Salt Lake City International Airport to pick up Seth. He would have just completed his 2-year mission in Paraguay. He would have come down the escalator to shouts from family and friends; balloons and banners; and long, giant hugs all around. It would have been so joyous!

It was still joyous, just different. 

Instead, this happened.

All the American missionaries serving in Paraguay were taken out and sent home at the end of March. Shulamith and I picked Seth up from the airport, following clear guidelines from the church not to touch him or hug him. We put a "Welcome Home, Elder Erichsen" sign in our car window, and Seth (who was at least two inches taller than when he left) simply walked up to the car and got in. No fanfare. It was far from a hero's welcome, but as Gerald so aptly put it, "He is my hero." We brought him home to two weeks of strict quarantine; he only left the house once daily to walk about the neighborhood. 

That was just over four months ago. Elders like Seth, who had already served at least 18 months, were permanently released from missionary service. It all happened so quickly. Just days before we received news of the exodus from Paraguay, we had our final video chat:

We talked a little about the virus during that chat, but neither of us had any idea Seth would be coming home in less than a week. Not a clue. 

It all made me super nervous. As I've mentioned, I like things to go according to plan, and the plan was for him to serve 24 months and come home TODAY. 

But Seth is way more flexible than I am (not saying much, I know), and he rolled with the situation as he always does. No worries. Immediately following the 2-week quarantine, he found a job at Chick-fil-A. In the past four months he has bought a very nice gaming/school computer and his own car, and now he's saving for college.

His plans continue to be uncertain. He'll take a couple online classes this fall at SLCC, but he still has no idea when he'll be able to go away to college, attend a singles' ward, take a girl on a normal date that isn't hiking. And yet, he remains cheerful! Had life not turned upside down, we would have brought him home today. Instead, we've had him home four months.

I am beyond proud of all three of my honorably returned missionaries: Elder Luke Erichsen (Oregon Portland Mission, 2006-2008), Elder Eli Webster (Arkansas Little Rock Mission, 2012-2014), and Elder Seth Erichsen (Paraguay Asuncion Mission, 2018-2020). But Seth will have the best story to tell:

"Hey Daddy, tell me about your mission."

"Well you see, I served at the start of COVID19."