For the last month, my school has been engaged in distance learning. Rather I should say that our middle school and high school students have remained at home. Teachers have had to report to school every day, regardless. Elementary has proceeded in hybrid – a story for another time.
In distance learning, we continue to employ Google Classroom as our digital learning platform and class meetings are held on Webex. Though I can’t share screenshots which include my students’ faces and names, the Brady Bunch intro below is pretty apropos.
In general, I prefer distance learning at this current time because it keeps kids home safe, it prevents COVID transmission between students and teachers and it means the whole class can stay on the same curriculum (that’s right folks, only one set of lessons to plan).
Distance learning has its drawbacks, of course. My students generally don’t enjoy it and this makes them less engaged. They understand the need to stay safe but school is so social for them. They’d rather see some classmates than be stuck at home alone, many of them spread out all over this large city. Another downfall – being glued to my screen(s). Before each lesson, I definitely feel like I’m gearing up for a space launch rather than an art lesson.
I’ve learned a few things along the way. Shared documents/folders/screens help me monitor student progress. Keeping my Webex room locked and waiting to accept students in the digital lobby all at once keeps everyone at ease (’cause no one wants to be solo in a Webex room with their teacher). Webex’s new breakout rooms have improved distance learning for me tenfold, letting me differentiate kids by progress and needs without them knowing it.
And thank god for the great students who make it work AND make you laugh 🙂
On Monday we will once again return to hybrid learning. For those keeping track we’ve rotated from distance to hybrid to distance to hybrid since August. A number of my students have still not returned to Moscow. Others have left since the COVID numbers have risen. Therefore hybrid will once again require me to plan 2-3 sets of lessons for every class. Although I’m not excited to be heading back to hybrid, I am of course looking forward to seeing my students in person (albeit behind masks). The benefits of in-person teaching cannot be matched digitally, there is no dispute. And distance learning fatigue is real. Both teachers and students are exhausted. It’s hard to fathom that we have three more quarters left in our school year.
A good friend pointed out to me recently that both teachers and students are incredibly resilient. When I think of how far education has to come in such a short time, I’m proud, impressed, and also bewildered. Teaching has evolved in both good and bad ways thanks to COVID-19.
As always, the Arts to help us to express what we’re feeling, to put things in perspective. This past week, I discovered that Stephen Colbert and I share a favorite song, This Year, by The Mountain Goats. How innocent this performance looks back in 2019! But as the song says: I am gonna make it through this year. If it kills me 🙂
Thankfully, Quarter 1 of the school year has come to a close. We ended with a full week of distance learning due to infections within our school community and the rising rates here in Moscow. I’m relieved to have made it to break, more necessary this year than in the past. The break is a welcome reprieve to step away from my computer screen and clear my head.
So much talk these days is about unknowns but one “known” is that US citizens living in Moscow are not allowed to leave the city limits except by automobile. No planes or trains for us at this time. While some friends chose to rent dachas (cabins outside the city limits – some with heat, some without), others opted to hunker down, catch up on sleep, and de-stress. I planned something small each day to get out and about in the city while avoiding crowds and public transportation.
Starting off on a cultural note, I opted to spend a few hours on Saturday taking a walking tour of Prechistenka Street and the alleyways surrounding the popular Arbat pedestrian street. This area is known for its immense city estates featuring diverse architecture, from Art Nouveau to avant-garde.
I have taken a few tours via Bridge to Moscow in the past and found their excursions to be thoughtful, laid back, and full of information. Ivan, our guide, was a mathematician with a passion for history passed down from his architect grandfather.
The tour flowed easily from talk about the impact of President Nixon’s momentous visit to Moscow in 1972 – major road reconstruction and architectural discoveries from the 16th century – to homes gifted to the Decembrists to the inspiration for Lenin’s tomb (Disney’s Sleeping Beauty). We also learned a great deal about the architect Konstantin Melinkov, a contemporary of Frank Lloyd Wright, similar in their creative genius.
We ended our tour near the graffiti tribute wall to the (in)famous singer Viktor Tsoi and his song Khochu Peremen. The title roughly translates to “We are awaiting change” which seems particularly poignant given politics these days, from Belarus to the States.
On Monday I opted for an overnight stay in a fun area of the city, just off Pyatnitskaya Street. I booked a hotel room on the cheap (the ruble has fallen considerably against the dollar) and set out to walk the 3 miles to my hotel, avoiding public transport. My walk took me through Red Square and past Lenin’s Tomb, St. Basil’s, and the Kremlin walls.
The neighborhood surrounding Novokuznetskaya Station is a warm and inviting. From the world-famous Tretyakov Gallery to newly-minted craft brew pubs, there is something for everyone. The area still retains it’s history, with Orthodox Cathedrals nestled up against glass office buildings along the cobble stone sidewalks.
Of course, given the COVID situation, I opted to play it safe and just wander around outdoors. To my knowledge, I was the only guest at the small N-Hotel (clean, cheap, excellent location). I saw more masks on the streets this week (thankfully) and wore mine the entire time I was outside my hotel room.
I hit up only one restaurant and purposely went very early. The Mardi Gras Brasserie featured both Belgian beer and a delicious moules frites, a favorite of both my grandfather and myself. Considering this was originally meant to be my week exploring Belgium, I felt spirited away to a little pub in Bruges, if only for a moment.
After dinner, I wandered the streets along the banks of the Москва River, crossing over to the little island which divides the Kremlin from the south side of the city. The view of St. Basil’s alongside GUM Department Store lit up like a Christmas tree was a warm, welcome sight. I am thankful for sidewalks clear of snow as the temperature in Moscow continues to fall.
Like all vacation weeks, this one seems to be flying by. As a teacher at an international school, so much of life is centered around the school, it’s dealings, and the school community. The time away from school has been particularly redeeming for both sanity and a little fun. I feel grateful to have a city that is uniquely engaging, whether inside or out.
School has been back in session since the end of August and it has been a quite a ride. We completed two weeks of distance learning to allow the teachers on the charter plane to properly quarantine. Hybrid learning immediately kicked into high gear. A new word in the educational lexicon, “hybrid” can cover any number of sins. Generally it describes a school with only 50% of students physically in school with 50% learning at home. My school has required us to teach this way simultaneously, in real time. The kids switch off every other day. Teachers are on campus 100% of the time.
Like thousands of teachers across the country, I scrambled to prepare take-home packets of art supplies for my students. I sent purchase lists to those abroad (I am teaching students in 5+ time zones, including one in Texas). There is only so much one can send home, even with an extremely generous budget to work with. I can’t send home acrylic paints, oil paints, massive canvases for IB diploma students.
For all five of my courses, I plan and carry out at least two separate curriculums (one for in school and one for at home). Additionally, I have to send separate directions to those students abroad who do not get to attend school in person. I also have to make a video recording of every single class, download it, and post it. If you can’t follow this math (understandable), I have to plan somewhere between double to three times the lessons of a normal school year. It has been, quite simply, exhausting.
Of course, it’s not all bad. Hybrid has allowed me to see my students again, which I love. I have had access to my supplies and classroom. The kids have been particularly patient but I just wonder how long they can keep it up and what the lasting impact will be. I hope for resilience, worry about other consequences.
So what about safety? Every morning I grab my mask(s) of the day and paper daily pass which asks me questions like, have you been exposed to someone who has had COVID symptoms in the last 24 hours? Every individual who enters the school is required to turn this pass in at a station outside the school doors where security guards also take our temperature.
Once on campus, I am required to wear my mask 24/7. I sit behind plexiglass which surrounds my desk. Plexiglass also divides student tables so all of my students could fit into my classroom according to the regulations.
The Art Department was granted two sterilizers per classroom. These machines employ UV rays to decontaminate shared supplies in three minutes flat.
Since it is still unconfirmed if the virus is transferable on surfaces, this makes supply-heavy classes like art and science lab challenging. Students drop their supplies in the sterilizer as they exit the room. At the end of every class, I distribute wipes and students also wipe down their desks and chairs.
A few days ago, my school announced our upcoming return to distance learning. With cases rising in Moscow (yesterday we set a COVID world record with 12,200+ cases in one day) and a positive COVID case on campus, this is the necessary next step. As I was a close contact of the COVID case, I had to leave campus a day early and finish a 14 day quarantine. I’m due for another COVID test tomorrow (my third in as many months) but have no symptoms and feel fine. I tested positive for antibodies back in June so I do not anticipate a recurrence. For the record, I was an asymptomatic case.
All this to say, this first quarter of the school year has been like no other. Amidst all the stress and anxiety there have also been unexpected moments of grace and beauty. I try to hold onto these. When technology is unyielding, I take a deep breath. I feel like a first year teacher all over again. My family and friends have provided incredible support. Moloko provides the comic relief and is probably the most happy to have me teaching from home again.
In closing, I’m sending out love and support to teachers everywhere, fighting the good fight. We were not trained for this but, as always, we rise to the challenge and roll with it. On to the next…
… but I never expected my first time on Irish soil to be on a government-chartered 767 en route to Moscow. As with most aspects of life in the time of COVID, expectations have flown right out the window.
After weeks of grappling with cancelled flights from New York to Moscow (not Aeroflot’s fault – they could only take repatriating Russians), my school scrambled to find an alternative. 88 of us needed to get back to Moscow before the start of school. After bumping the school year back by a week, the school informed us of a charter flight out of DC. I confirmed my intent to be on it and started making travel arrangements.
Initially hoping to enjoy a long weekend in my old city of residence, my plans were thwarted by a last minute decree by the Russian government that we could not enter the country without a COVID test… completed no more than 72 hours before arrival. I decided to stick around Massachusetts and search for a test, a task which quickly proved futile. Citing “greater need in other parts of the country”, there was absolutely not a rapid test to be found. With nothing that could guarantee that 72 hour window requirement, I was forced to push on with plans to fly to DC the day before the charter. Last minute (ie. two days before), the school found a testing sight in DC who could test us all as drive ups/walk ups. With my father’s help, I made a quick pivot and rented a car for the drive to DC instead. All this to say, there was a lot that went on before we were anywhere near the airport.
Driving down the I-95 corridor took me back to the many times I’d traversed that road during my DC years. I miss that city a lot and I still treasure that I was able to share my love of it with my god kids a few summers back. But this was not a time to leisurely enjoy a drive. Stopping only once (mask on, of course), I drove the 7 hours to make it to my COVID test on time.
Camping out at the Hyatt near Dulles, I spent the night in a hotel run by a skeleton crew. The front desk, which physically was barely recognizable with plexiglass protection and what amounted to a HS football snack bar stacked behind the counter due to a lack of room service, did their best. I caught up with some friends on FaceTime and tried to get some rest, hoping my test results would be waiting in my email upon touchdown in Moscow.
A strange check-in process awaited us at Dulles. We essentially checked in at baggage claim, the barks of dogs echoing through the corridor. Many animals joined us for the flight, flying with embassy families and teachers from our school. More notable were the incredible amount of children along for this ride – the youngest, to my knowledge – 4 months old. None of us were quite sure what was in store, but we knew this was our best shot. Everyone’s faces bore the look of frayed nerves, a look my parents knew probably too well after weeks of me dealing with this unknown exit.
Once checked in, we were loaded on buses and taken to a remote tarmac to meet our plane. We queued for nearly an hour on the bus as ground crew set up a security check point and stocked the plane with supplies. Would we be fed? Would there be flight attendants? Would we be turned back upon arrival due to COVID results? These questions danced in my mind. I had to delay expectations and not allow myself to do anything but putting one foot in front of the other. To get all that way, after all the weeks of build up, and be turned back would have been – I don’t use this word lightly – devastating.
They assigned families seats together at check-in. As the plane was about 70% full (it was not just teachers from my school), they were kind enough to give those of traveling alone our own set of two seats (another futile attempt at social distancing in a “germ bullet” ie. plane but whatever, I’ll take it).
Our plane was quite old and carried no entertainment consoles. It did occur to me after Hour 5 of staring out the window and only seeing mountains (not the Atlantic), that they could actually be taking us anywhere. It was an eerie feeling. Yes, it turns out that we did have flight attendants (don’t think a plane can fly without them for safety reasons) and yes, they did feed us two box meals (fairly decent).
We had been told that we would be refueling in Dublin, Ireland. However, aside from the location, we had not been told what plans there included, nor how long we’d be there, or basically anything about procedure for this flight. It was a true “guess we’ll see” scenario and we had to roll with it. It’s worth mentioning that I work with a lot of seasoned travelers (multiple of whom have been to all 7 continents) and everyone was on edge.
We flew 7.5 hours up over Greenland to the Emerald Isle. Though I’ve always wanted to visit, an actual trip I had planned was thwarted by visa issues in Moscow a few summers back. Never technically set foot off the plane so we’ll hold off on claiming that in my country count for now. Our crew disembarked (and seemed to have no idea where we were traveling on to), the plane refueled, and we cooled our heels for 1.5 hours.
Departing Dublin, we were entering hour 11 of travel (bus + plane + refuel). The captain announced a fairly quick hop to Moscow (3.5 hours), and we were off above the clouds once again, in the land of perpetual sunrise. It was smooth sailing, thankfully, as I don’t think our nerves could have taken it.
We flew into Moscow’s VKO airport, arriving around noon on the day after we departed DC. I’ve never flown so low over the city (planes are banned) and I could actually spot Moscow City (the arch of buildings on the horizon) from my window. My apartment lies a bit behind those buildings, off to the right. Never been so relieved to see the Soviet apartment buildings all stacked in rows.
Upon arrival, two Russian officials came on board to collect our medical papers. There were no test results in my Inbox. No bueno. An announcement told us that they would deplane us in groups of 7-10. Embassy folks earned the right to go first. We were the last and largest group. It took me 2 hours to get off the plane and I was one of the first. They ran us in plush vans to the terminal (we’d parked in the luxury terminal, so they are used to small private jets), and supposedly disinfected the vans in between each group. I have literally no idea how all the kids under the age of 8 didn’t lose their minds but they didn’t. Rockstar world travelers already. Their parents also deserve medals.
After customs, I was met by a kind US Embassy official who directed me to take another COVID test. This one was painless and quick. I walked out of the terminal towards my waiting bags and shuttle buses sent by our school. It was a glorious day, picture perfect skies and temperature. I found a patch of grass and took a breather. The kids ran in circles, delighted to be free and to see their friends after months away (some families left in March). It was a heart-warming sight.
Throughout the whole ordeal I had said that I would only believe I’d made it when my key turned the lock to my apartment. It finally happened, 18 hours after leaving DC. I was greeted by my cat who thankfully does not hold grudges. It was very good to be home.
For now, I am teaching from my apartment as our school is engaged in two weeks of distance learning. Those on the charter flight are under two weeks of self-isolation. I can take a walk before 9am, go to the grocery store, but generally am confined to home. No matter as I have so much to do to get my classes off the ground. It doesn’t even feel like confinement since it’s just a relief to be back.
I’m back where I should be and we’re just going to have to see how this school year/2020/pandemic unfolds. I hope you’re all doing well and taking care of yourself and others. I remain frustrated by the insane pressure of this back-to-school situation and it’s effect upon students, teachers, parents, etc. This pandemic is not something that was caused by these students but now they must learn a completely new way to get an education. Teachers are killing themselves to make it work.
This pandemic and it’s far-reaching grasp is the result of human beings not do the right thing and not practicing social distancing to make this virus go away. For those who say it’s not possible without a vaccine, it is. Look at Denmark, look at Vietnam, look at South Korea. Look around the world at what responsible governments and their citizens have done. I pray for my country. I’m praying for Russia. I’m praying for our world. Let us unite our collective brainpower to fight this war. We don’t have to live like this indefinitely. Please stay home, do not socialize in groups, and think of others. Shut. It. Down.
I’m extremely grateful to be writing this entry from my childhood home in Massachusetts. As I sit here with my mom and dad, reflecting on the last month, I carry the knowledge that I am extremely lucky to have this time with them.
Throughout the COVID spring (praying there will only be one spring of COVID), I wavered back and forth on whether I should attempt to make the trip to the States for the summer. My greatest concern was keeping my family safe and not transporting the virus back to them.
On the first of June, I received a voicemail from SwissAir, informing me that my flight in late June had been cancelled. Having planned to wait for that flight, the disappointment I felt pushed me to act. Though there has been a single flight out of Moscow to JFK once a week for all of lockdown, Aeroflot only posts these one at a time. Occasionally they would just be rumors that colleagues of mine would have to chase down at the Aeroflot office in Moscow in person. Thankful to have outlasted the initial evacuation stress many experienced, I felt it was time to get out of dodge. I booked my ticket for the following Tuesday and started getting things in order.
Though not an actual requirement for any US state, a two week quarantine was the only way I felt comfortable returning to my folks. Given the “germ bullet” I flew in on from Moscow, I needed a separate space to wait out the COVID timeline. After a few false starts with Airbnb (through no fault of theirs, their policies were awesome), my dad secured me a spot in an available apartment belonging to a childhood neighbor. It was an incredible gift, given the potential cost and coordination effort I was facing. Logistics solved, I lined up the cat sitter and airport transport. The hardest part about my departure was leaving this one…
After 80 days in strict lockdown (observed by my close friends but not all in Moscow), I was more nervous than I think I’ve ever been when heading to the airport. And that includes moving to two countries, sight unseen.
The airport had an eerie vibe – everyone slightly on edge – save for the employees checking temperatures at the door. With only two international flights flying out that day, I got in a big line wearing my mask and gloves. No one was standing 6 feet apart.
Everyone seemed to have more patience than usual. I cruised to my gate and found a set of chairs far away from other passengers. Slowly the corridor filled, though only one blini (Russian crepe) stand was open for business.
I needn’t have distanced because it all went to hell when the boarding line formed. Crazy pat-downs and a person in every seat. This was a coveted flight for those lucky enough to be able to enter the States right now. The captain came on the loudspeaker every three hours to remind us to change our masks. I deferred the food and drink offered having packed my own.
Landing without incident at JFK, I transferred terminals alone via the AirTrain. Kind of creepy to be solo on a rail car devoid of a human driver. I sat waiting for my flight to Boston amidst a couple in full hazmat gear and a few college students. There might have been 18 of us on a flight for 50. The terminal was empty except for the Hudson News which will one day surely survive the Apocalypse.
Flying over Boston Harbor, I breathed easy for the first time in nearly 12 hours. My parents met me outside in the taxi stand and we maintained 10 foot distance, which was hard but just a relief to see them healthy and safe. Leaving the keys in the spare car for me, they headed home and I drove out to my quarantine apartment.
The journey was not too taxing and I am thankful for that. I’m also extremely grateful for my ability to return to my host country in August (as of now, despite flight complications). I also did not get sick on the journey. My folks and I spent two weeks meeting up at a distance at local parks and sometimes for an hour or two in their backyard. I spent two resting weeks in Canton, Mass., adjusting from jet lag and appreciating a soft-landing back into the States.
Despite what it going on in other parts of the country, I’ve been super impressed with the majority of folks wearing masks and taking necessary precautions. My friends teaching in Asia will be heading back to school properly in the fall, with their host countries having adhered to common sense and made choices for the betterment of society as a whole. I only pray our country can get it together during this politically divisive time.
We are an incredible country, the most culturally diverse in the world. It is what makes us strong, what makes us special. For now I am holding my loved ones close and taking nothing for granted. I hope you are all taking care, wherever this note finds you. Be safe. We’re all just doing the best we can.
Mental Health PSA:
Alongside the obvious physical threat of COVID-19, mental health challenges loom large. Massachusetts has set up a help line for those in need of support. There is no shame in getting help – in fact, it is the strong ones who admit they need it.
Hello everyone. It has been while! Not entirely sure where the last month has gone. The days both creep and fly by. I’d guess that many of you feel the same. I hope you’re all doing ok out there, taking care of yourself and each other.
I am presently here in Moscow. School has wrapped for the summer. I’m watching countries around the world begin to reopen. My friend’s life in Denmark is nearly back to normal. Teacher friends in Asia are beginning to return to the classroom. I’m making plans to head back to Boston shortly, with a voluntary quarantine upon arrival.
What have I been up to? Well, it’s certainly not earth-shattering but I’m getting by just fine. I’ve learned to make focaccia bread (I can now pass ‘Go’ and collect $100 quarantine bucks). There is always a puzzle in progress on my kitchen table. I’ve done virtual art dates with friends across the world and in my building, all of us painting or crafting and chatting about our days. I’m working on my own COVID art series, adding my doodles to my students’ splatter paintings created on our last day before lockdown.
Early on, a coworker shared this article which comes to mind when the days start to blend together – “Your Only Goal Is to Arrive“. For those of us not on the front lines (praise them all), doing our part by continuing to stay home, this is our contribution.
My cat is still taking quarantine extremely hard. Clearly. She continues to be a great comfort. Her sister comes around for playdates which are both amusing and distracting.
Lockdown in Moscow has meant many, many hours spent walking the perimeter of my compound parking lot. I’m thankful to have a lot, to be safe within it, and for moments of beauty like this.
Moscow is beginning to ease the lockdown. There is a color coded map to denote which day of the week each residential building is allowed to walk freely within a 2km radius.
Some stores are starting to open. I can definitely hear more traffic out my window. Unfortunately, rates of infection are still quite high. I am increasingly curious what this will all mean for school in the fall. So much remains day-to-day.
For now, I have a newfound appreciation for freedom of movement and my own privilege (more to come in a future post). I am so thankful for technology and the ability to keep up with family and friends on a daily basis. Hope I’ll soon be writing from the Boston area. Take care and stay safe!
We are four weeks into working from home, three weeks into quarantine, and so far, so good. The weeks are flying by. I’m so thankful for my job, my students, and constant contact with family and friends. My cat continues to be a comfort (she’s in my lap as I write this) and to amuse. This kid is alright.
Over the past few weeks, I have watched rumors spread across the internet. For those who notice when Russia makes the news, this isn’t happening. Unfortunately, this is. On a happier, Russian-tastic note, this also happened. I enjoyed this photo series taken at the proper social distance. And artist Yayoi Kusama’s poem about resilience against COVID-19 is beautiful.
In the past week, Moscow has adopted a QR code pass system. For better or worse, the aim is for people to stay home and minimize public contact. There are considerably less people on the streets, which I can observe from my 8th floor apartment, because I am not leaving my compound. I have read reports of chaos in the metro due to QR pass checks and a lack of safe social distancing. I pray that essential workers are able to get safely where they need to be.
I’ve been making art as a daily practice for the first time in a very long time. Trolling YouTube for relaxing art tutorials, I paint daily in my sketchbook and I’ve become a patron of an art therapist. I try to pick up a brush daily.
On the work front, Google Classroom is my main portal. I spend time crafting art lessons, breaking directions down into manageable pieces, and aiming for big picture goals (primarily to help my students find artistic outlets for their stress).
Students in my drawing class pulled off a pretty sweet project this past week. Challenged to mix their colored pencils and photograph their finished squares, they worked collaboratively even as they are scattered around the world. From a shared folder, my wonderful assistant Masha pulled these tiles together using Photoshop.
For exercise, I’ve been running up and down the 8 flights of stairs in my building. I also walk the perimeter of our parking lot many times each evening. I’m loving that it is staying light until nearly 8pm as we inch closer towards the solstice. This past week was chilly but, in general, we’ve been blessed with more sunshine than I recall from my other spring seasons in Moscow.
I recently saw a quote from Maya Angelou that seems to apply:
“What I know is that it’s going to be better,” she said. “If it’s bad, it might get worse, but I know that it’s going to be better. And you have to know that. There’s a country song out now, which I wish I’d written, that says, ‘Every storm runs out of rain.’
For all of us, I’m just looking forward to that day…
Hello everyone. I hope this post finds you all safe and sound. The impacts of the COVID-19 virus are now being felt across the world and for us here in Moscow, it is no different. I thought I would give you a peak into what life has been like here for the past few weeks.
When I first heard about school closures for friends who work in Macau, Hong Kong, and China, I was surprised but aware that epidemics had caused disruptions like this before. I was in Korea when MERS came to the country, my first real interaction with the societal impact of a virus. It effected us on a much smaller scale with school being made optional for the last two weeks and more masks in public than usual. Thankfully, MERS came to an end right around the end of the school year and I was able to board a plane to the States to begin my summer.
Today I am here in Moscow. My school campus is shuttered, I am teaching from my kitchen table. After careful deliberation, I have decided to ride out the storm here at least until the end of the school year. Without going into great detail, my school has taken extraordinary measures to ensure our safety and sanity. We had warning, we watched our friends in Asia bear the initial brunt and, as teachers so often do, they turned their misfortune into teachable moments and shared their wisdom, successes, and failures with us. I sent students home with art supplies, we hosted a mock graduation, and my Grade 12 students cleared out two years of their beautiful artwork – their senior IB art show cancelled. It was a very emotional week.
Given time to prepare, thanks to the school’s forethought and pragmatism, we teachers rapidly shifted into digital learning. Certain subjects lend themselves better than others but, as teachers, we are often asked to go above and beyond, and teachers worldwide have risen to the call. I am blessed with a population which has access to a personal digital device. This is not true for all communities across the world. The vast majority of my students will be fed and safe during this stressful time. Again, this is not true for others. In Oregon, the state has seen a sharp decline in reports of child abuse. This is heartbreaking knowing that it is the mandatory reporting of teachers that brings in so many calls. No one knows our kids like we do. In Paris, the government has put aside thousands of hotel beds for those who call a national domestic violence hotline. People are trapped at home with their abusers. If any of you are in the same position, you can call: 1-800-799-SAFE. We can all do our part to keep an extra ear out for our neighbors during this time.
So what does daily life look like in Moscow? We’ve been told by the government to stay home, mandated to stay in our apartments until April 30. We can leave only for emergencies, to take out the trash, walk the dog, or visit our nearest pharmacy or grocery store. This may seem extreme to some but I am gladly complying. I have had friends who have already experienced the virus and recovered. This virus is no joke. Please – if you are not already doing so – stay home.
I am thankful I still have a job. I have friends across the US who have been furloughed, who are now dealing with unemployment offices that are so overtaxed that once (if) they reach a human, they’re told to call back next week. It’s not pretty, folks. I am 100% aware that I am one of the lucky ones. Work keeps my days on track. It has made the two weeks I’ve taught from home fly by. My community here and in the States is incredible. Everyday I speak with friends over Skype, Zoom, Google Meet, Facebook Messenger, KakaoTalk, Facetime, Marco Polo, Whatsapp, etc. etc. etc. My friends who are abroad are all in the same boat, to varying degrees of isolation. We keep tabs and check in constantly.
I also have an amazing community here in Moscow, in my very building. Without going into detail, I will say I remain extremely well informed by both my school and the US Embassy. I feel safe. I have enough food. There is toilet paper on the grocery shelves (so I am told, I have not been to the store in two weeks).
My cat has proved excellent company. Initially, she resented me interrupting her naps but now we have adjusted. If I leave to walk the staircase a few times (we have no hallways but I’m on the 8th floor), she bounds to greet me upon my return, meowing her hello. Again, I’m extremely thankful.
Knowing that my family and friends are taking precautions back home keeps me sane. I’ve done my best to build a healthy daily routine for myself. I’m doing what I’m sure so many of you are doing – cooking, cleaning, exercising, making art, reading, watching The Tonight Show, etc. I have running water, electricity, and heat. I have community. I will be fine.
Please take care of yourselves and drop a line, even if you don’t normally. I would love to hear how you are getting through this and what the situation is like where you are. Or your Netflix recommendations. Or a shared recipe. We will get through this together ❤
Back before things got so messy worldwide, I took a little trip to see my good friends Jeff and Tori and their wonderful family. Friends from Seoul, they left Korea with one kiddo and not four years later are now a family of five! Life has become quite a dance!
We chilled, caught a few sunsets, and even got a minute to watch Parasite (Go SoKo!). Tori, her mom, and I even popped down to Phuket Town for a little getaway.
I hadn’t heard a lot about Phuket Town before I arrived. I had chosen our hotel fairly last minute and figured it would be a nice change of pace to be able to walk and wonder in town.
The first thing I noticed was the facade of the buildings. The majority of the structures were two stories high, featuring a storefront on the ground level and a living space above.
The shutters, columns, and corrugated roofs seemed reminiscent of Hanoi to me, a fusion of Asian and European. Turns out, it’s an architectural style all it’s own called Sino-Portuguese.
As history goes, the Portuguese came to Phuket in the 1500s. Phuket became a booming trade capital, with tin as its major export. Rubber followed shortly thereafter. As they set up shop, the Portuguese hired Chinese workers to build their port town. The result was the style which is still present today, also known as Chinese Baroque.
Our hotel turned out to be the most beautiful gem of all. The Woo Gallery & Boutique Hotel makes it feel like you are sleeping in an art gallery. Essentially, we were, as the front of the building boasts an in-home museum full of trinkets collected by the owner’s father-in-law. The home has been in their family for three generations, with their ancestors coming from China to make their fortunes in the mining industry.
When the present owners took the space back from renters, they undertook a multi-year renovation from top to bottom. The female proprietor designed every aspect of the space herself, researching historic tiles, woods, and glass to bring to life the glorious vision you see today.
Collections of pottery and artifacts from far reaching cities like Penang, Singapore, Shanghai, and Delhi enrich the space, adding to it’s unique ambiance. We were lucky enough to have a private tour of the rooms and collections. All three of us left awestruck and inspired.
I spent the last few nights at a B&B run by a Finnish couple, close to Jeff & Tori’s place. Night swimming beneath the palm trees was magical and I tried to soak it in, knowing that this might be my last opportunity to travel for a while.
On my last night in town, Tori and the kids took me to a restaurant run by a friend of theirs called Artisan. Another gem, it was the perfect send-off from Thailand, capped off by time hanging out with Garvey under the lanterns. Thailand is truly a special place made infinitely more wonderful by dear friends.