It's finally happened. I'm having flashbacks to that awful second grade year at Vanderveer Elementary School.
That was the year when I started to realize some of the work made no sense and induced high anxiety in me, marked by crying, tantrums, feelings of hopelessness, and sense of utter abandonment.
This was not from obvious academic subjects. I loved spelling and math. I was terrific in those subjects. I listened once and got the underlying principles.
These subjects made sense. But there were also tasks where we were not furnished with the materials we needed in order to thrive. Ms. Bernabe would give us work that made no sense to me, and then if we didn't finish it during class, we would have to do it for homework, where it still made no sense.
One I clearly remember---we had to make a list of names--the last letter of the name had to become the first letter of the next name. So Nancy would be followed by Yvette, which would be followed by Erin, etc. I believe we had to keep going until we reached 50. I still remember having to number and make two columns on the lined paper.
Problem--this was a time of standard, non-Biblical names, non-spiced, non-occupational names. And, I was in 2cd grade.
I just couldn't do it. I would cry. I would feel hopeless. This wasn't something you could look up (although now I realize my mother and I could have gotten a book of baby names to help from the public library. Oh wait--my mother would have been making supper and have no time to take me to the library. Which would have required her to call a cab. And there was no extra money for this).
My mother did try to help--she was the one who knew French names like Yvette.
Really--what was the purpose.
And now, because I have been abandoned by my school, I feel the same way, only worse.
It's bad enough doing the constant Zoom classes. But everything has to be handed in via Blackboard. So I put up links and tell the students--it must be converted into Word or PDF. And that's where the trouble begins.
I don't know what they're doing. Either they don't realize they have to use the link and have it "browse" their computer for the file. Or they forget a step in converting the file into PDF or Word. Or they just don't give a crap---they want to do what they want to do. Which drives me crazy. All I can do is give them links to the Bb desk. Or the link to get a device via the school.
After slogging through endless Zoom classes, I have to fill out endless forms, which take longer. I have to fill out a change of grade form for a student. I fill it out, save it, and send it in. No, it is not the right change of grade form. And it has to be sent somewhere else. I'm supposed to go in through the portal, fill out a form there, then "submit" it, where it will be carried by the Hogwarts express to the correct destination.
I try to go in through the portal. I get an error message. I e-mail the registrar, who e-mails a help desk, who claims they called me, but they didn't.
Two hours later, after endless e-mails begging the help desk person to help me, to give me a phone number where I could call him, to no avail, I attempt to log in to the portal again. This time--success. So, I believe the portal was down two hours before. Why can't someone just admit the school portal went down, just wait?
The problem with using the portal--you get no receipts and no proof. The form gets "submitted" into the Twilight Zone--and you have no proof.
At which point, I open the window and start ululating out in the darkling plain. Nothing changes. Except my blood pressure. Who knew--instead of alleviating the issue, it elevates it. Later on that day, my usually normal blood pressure registered as 150/105--I had an appointment to donate my Type O blood--but had to reschedule. That is so not me (the BP,that is).
But this has been dragging on for weeks. I work 12 hours a day, with teaching only taking up 3 hours. I want to throw the computer out the window and take off somewhere where there is no internet. But no travel is allowed, even for Americans like myself who are completely vaccinated.
And after the joy of that, I sat down for hours trying to get my taxes in order to send to my accountant. I just shut down after a while, put a bunch of official papers into an envelop, put down my rough calculations of income, and just sent it off. That's what I pay him to do, after all. I just can't do any more than I'm doing. I don't want to install "new software" in my computer. I don't want to take another Zoom class. I don't want to take any webinars. I can't do any more. This is not due to any internal defect. I am pushed past the line of capability and can't absorb any more. I am breaking. Fragile. So fragile. No more rope to knot.
And I hear that Zoom causes activation of the "flight or fight" response from the Autonomic Nervous System. So--Zoom is a direct cause of mental distress. Zoom has a duty of care to its users. I wonder what they will do. Nothing--they are just cleaning up on this platform financially. No care for the wreckage that it causes. Zoom makes you into a zombie. A zoombie.
First, people remove their pants. Then, they remove their minds.
Endless anomie. And there is no reason for this. I have a niggling feeling that the registrar and the help desk leave at 3PM. I'm working 12 hour/day. At a time when more electronic assistance is required, they leave at 3PM. And that's that.
Let's face it: If you can create outdoor restaurant areas with heat lamps and wifi connections, you can create outdoor school rooms. If you can get permits to build restaurant rooms in the street, you can do the same for schools. If fact, schools should have been given priority over the restaurants.
If you can have open bars, you can have open libraries.
It shows the lack of creativity and will on the part of our educators. Collect tuition, and put the burden on anyone but the administration.
I feel abandoned and unheard. Tech has become the new way to abandon people. You send e-mail which receives no reply. No one will give out a phone number. Even if they do, the voice mailbox is "full."
Hopeless. Abandoned. Wandering by myself. Like Frodo--I remember the happy days of the past, but feel disconnected from them. He at least had Sam. But Sam couldn't help him. Frodo, by that point, had left the room.