Items

• 
  2021-01-06

  When lungs fail

  I wish I had a sound of the oxygen concentrator my mom was on for a full month, but at the same time I'm glad that I don't. After spending 8 days in the ICU due to COVID, my mom was finally sent home only because the hospitals were full in the Fort Worth area, and there were other people much more sick than her. In a normal year, she would have been in there at least another week or two, but they got her a concentrator and sent her home to be taken care of by my Dad, sister, and me. The sound the small motor made, producing the oxygen my mom's lungs weren't capable of getting. The high-pitched beeps that sounded when the battery was low, or if the cannula in her nose wasn't properly placed on her face--all of it is probably permanently etched in my memory. The sound that I've submitted here is an excerpt of what a nebulizer sounds like when it's turned on. In addition to the sound of the oxygen concentrator, we'd hear this sound at least twice daily as my mom inhaled her lung medications with the nebulizer, accompanied by a lot of coughing as she recovered fully. I'm grateful that she recovered and is still doing well, but I don't think I'll ever be able to hear a sound like this without remembering what the month of January was like this year for our family.
• 
  2020-09

  The Sound of Learning - Teaching During the Pandemic

  On March 12th, 2020, all of the teachers and support staff in the high school where I work in Stafford, Virginia (A suburb of Washington DC) were called down to the auditorium and told by the head principal that our school would be shut down for the next two weeks as a result of Covid-19. Long story short, I did not return into that building until January of 2021. Even though I did not enter the building, between September and December of 2020, I toiled away teaching virtually via Google Meet from my basement. Teaching online was difficult - due to privacy concerns, students were not required to turn their cameras on - and none did. For the first time, I was teaching to a class of thirty without seeing anyone other than myself. Many students did not want to ask questions by unmuting their microphones, so instead they would type out questions, make comments, tell jokes, etc through the chat feature. Each time a student would send a message, my computer would make a small beeping noise. I learned to love this noise as it was the only reminder I had that there was someone listening to me. As a teacher, forming relationships is so central to the profession. At first, it seemed impossible to be a meaningful teacher when I had no clue what my students even looked like. But every time I heard that beep, I was delighted to know that someone was on the other side of that screen. Without the fear of immediate judgement of their peers, many of my students provided commentary on the lesson and made teaching fun. When teaching in person, I hate when a student tries to talk over me, so only dealing with a tiny beep was much more manageable and it was nice to see these kids communicate with one another while separated by the pandemic. Many articles that I have read have been incredibly critical of online learning, and some with good cause. I did not reach every student. Some fell back asleep, logged in then walked away, played video games, and even one of my students admitted to me that he was taking his dog on a walk during class. But hearing that beep reminded me that there are students out there that can make connections even when it seems impossible.