I WAS BACK IN THE CLASSROOM TODAY...

September 21st, 2020, for the first time since February, so it my first day in a classroom in over six months and my first, POST COVID.  

It was with a great deal of trepidation, that I opened those front doors to my assigned school, this morning. Although I had read thirty-one pages of protocol procedures to be followed, because of Covid, I still wasn't entirely sure of what to expect.

What did I see and experience? I can't even begin to describe it, it was almost surreal. This is after our schools have been open two weeks.  The kinks have been ironed out, but while it is still a work in progress, I admit, the whole school day, while so TOTALLY different from anything I have EVER experienced in five decades of being in the education system... blew me away with its efficiency, practicality, and total committment of ALL those involved, to making our schools a safe and secure place for children, and yet allowing them to BE children, to laugh, to play, to learn, to grow, physically, mentally, socially and emotionally, with their peers and their teachers.

THE BIGGEST adjustment, for me, was wearing a facial mask the entire day,even while outside on duty. My heart goes out to healthcare workers, and ALL those who wear these masks for eight to ten hours a day. God bless and keep you!

The other "new" things were NOT being to able to drink water; feeling frustrated that my students NOT understand me, since my words to them in a second language, were muffled by my mask.  It was NOT being to able to chat with my teaching colleagues in the staff room, because numbers were limited to four people; it was NOT having the interaction between students in the hallways, as "classroom bubbles" are in the hallways only when no other class is, or a class bubble follows another class bubble. It was NOT recognizing some who spoke to me, because of their facial mask. I could go on and on, about how the atmosphere, noise, ambiance, routines, procedures, hustle and bustle of a school day, have changed.  What choice do we have though? We must ensure we keep these darlings as safe as possible. 

What did NOT change?  My chance to touch a freckled face, and point out "les taches de rousseur."  My chance to point out a dimple in a sweet little cheek, and tell her she had a "faussette", which was a "trait visible", for her writing assignment.  My chance to look a blue eyed scamp in the eye and tell him to STOP using his mask as a pretend slingshot.  My chance to help another find HIS lost mask, trampled and dirty on the floor.  My chance to compliment another "firecracker" who worked so hard all day and who was so pleased when I complimented her on her good choices, that she wanted me to write a note to her father, which I did, GLADLY. My chance to bond with these eight and nine year olds, and my chance to chuckle, knowing she wasn't hurt, but because she is a "drama queen", when after falling on a climbing apparatus, declared, "My private parts are going to explode!" 

While I may have been physically exhausted when I left at the end of the day, I was emotionally, socially and mentally fulfilled, because I spent the day being a t-e-a-c-h-er, and that has always been a privilege.

    

MY ADVENTURE IN SAILING...

really turned out to be an adventure I had while out walking. Why the sailing reference? I had to get off that thirty-three foot sailboat or I was going to be sick. Either that, or become a ZOMBIE. We had only been on the water twenty four hours, and I felt nauseous, couldn't stop yawning, couldn't sleep, and just wanted my land legs, like YESTERDAY!

So my friend brought me to shore in his dinghy, and I proceeded to hike up a dirt road in the middle of no where, somewhere on the Saint John River, near a place called Carter's Cove. So straight uphill I climbed for fifteen minutes, UP Carter's Wharf Road, which makes sense... COVE, WHARF, you get it.  At the top, I could turn left or right on another country road, but this road at least had blacktop. I did NOT want another very steep uphill climb, which is what faced me if I turned right, so I chose the rolling hills on my left, and set off happily. Vimy was back home at the kennel, so I felt strangely bereft of my constant canine companion. 

As I strode purposely along, taking in the humble country houses, in the total solitude and silence of a peaceful Saturday morning in the woods of rural NB, this thought c-r-e-p-t into my head, "What badass person (read HILLBILLY) could come along, see an old woman wearing a bright T-shirt saying YAK YAK YAK YAK YAK,NEPAL on it,and decide to have some fun?"

I had no SOONER BANISHED that silly thought, than this HUMONGUOUS truck rolled up and stopped. The sunshine prevented me from seeing WHO these possible perpetrators were, so I bent down slightly, peering in the window, only to see a very elderly woman driving this big mother of a truck, with her gray haired, grizzled, bearded husband in the passenger seat. They wanted to know if I was looking for horses. YES... HORSES!!! 

I replied, "Ah... no. Why?" They proceeded to tell me how they had seen two horses not far behind them, running wild and free on the road, a dark horse and a pale one. I explained that I wasn't from the area, didn't know anyone, but if I did meet someone during my walk, I would advise them of this situation. They appeared concerned, and while living only a kilometre down the road, did not know any of their neighbours who might be missing their horses.

I continued my walk, seeing a gorgeous, bright red '32 Chevy truck cruise by me. The walk was worth it, JUST for a glimpse of that  beautiful vehicle. Then I saw a woman through the trees, watering her flowers. I advanced in her driveway, and asked if she knew anyone with horses, because apparently TWO were running wild and free up the road a little further. I couldn't just well mind my own business.  Those poor horses!  Well, she took off running to the neighbours, while her husband peeled out the driveway, accompanied by his dog, and obviously very concerned, proceeded to tell me WHO the horses belonged to, HOW the owner was away, WHERE the mother lived (next door), etc.  I repeated what I knew, but then of course, he, like a typical New Brunswicker, wanted to know how I knew about these horses, so I explained. Then he wanted to know all about ME. His wife joined us, telling us the call had been made to the owner, who apparently was in NS? 

I thanked them for being such good neighbours, as I decided to turn around, since I was at the half way point of my walk. We hadn't seen the horses yet, and frankly, I wasn't real keen to get involved in that scene. I noted the number of the house across the road, and turned around. Five more beautiful, antique trucks and cars passed me, maybe on the way to a show, or thanks to Covid, maybe just out for a drive on this splendid September morning. 

I had barely walked five minutes before another car coming towards me STOPPED right beside me. I didn't wait for this younger couple to speak. I blurted out "Are YOU looking for horses?" They WERE, of course! They had received a text from the owner, who was on her way, (apparently NOT in NS after all!) and being good friends, they were out looking for her horses. I explained where I had turned around, and wished them luck, but not before they TOO wanted to know all about me and my involvement in this. So, so Maritime! 

I finished my walk reflecting on what had just transpired. Gees, I could be a HERO and not even know it! Maybe I saved those horses from being killed on the road, or I saved the owner much anguish and anxiety, if she had returned only to find them missing, and for God only knows, how long. 

I will never know the outcome, but hopefully it was ALL good. Maybe it was all because, in the words of the poet Robert Frost, "Two roads converged in a wood, and I, I took the one less traveled by and that has made all the difference." Well, in my case, lazy me chose the rolling hills one, instead of the steep hill, and THAT may have made all the difference.