That beaten path looks pretty good right now.  

Everyone who knows me knows that I am particularly inspired by Henry David Thoreau, and one of my favorites of his quotable quips is one that shows up in nearly every textbook and snippet about Thoreau, maybe because it is so true and relevant. In the “Conclusion” section of Walden, Thoreau makes this observation: “It is remarkable how easily and insensibly we fall into a particular route, and make a beaten track for ourselves.” 

Of course, he is right, and I have discovered his words to be proven true once again after five weeks of school shutdown and about three weeks of quarantine. Yet, we seem to always associate that beaten track with negativity, knowing that following the same path every time takes away some of our opportunities to see life from a different perspective. I imagine that would be the case if we find ourselves following a path just because it is an easy path (and Thoreau has some comments about the path of least resistance) or because it is a familiar path, but I have also found that creating a beaten path for myself while sequestered has actually freed me up to do some of the activities I longed to do – like time to write this blog.  

And more than one contemporary journalist has compared our current situation to Thoreau’s time in Walden Woods, contemplating what we might learn from living in solitude these few weeks. I haven’t exactly been living in solitude since I live with my husband and two sons, but I have been experimenting with a way to balance my responsibilities when I can almost choose exactly how to spend my time. I have never been one to favor chaos, and that may be a characteristic that keeps my classroom well organized, but I also do not care for all my time to be spoken for by others. I like control, which ironically, is also a reason I enjoy being a teacher; the decisions made in my classroom are almost totally mine and almost mine alone.  

So faced with a day where the only time absolutely called for are the two hours from noon to 2 pm when my school requires me to be available online for student needs and faculty meetings, what should I do with my day? 

THE BEGINNING CHAOS 

No one that I know personally has lived through a pandemic that forced schools to close, so when we were first told to gather lessons together, on Friday, March 13, around 4:30 pm, for the possibility that students might not return to school on Monday, March 16, chaos ensued almost immediately. My phone lit up non-stop that weekend with colleagues and parents and students sending questions for which none of us had answers. I spent all weekend preparing and copying lesson instructions for my students to pick up early the next week without any real knowledge of how the whole scenario would play out. I just knew I had to be prepared Monday with lessons to give to my students. 

When I went into my class on Sunday afternoon to make copies and build lesson packets, I was not alone; at least five or six colleagues visited my room, searching as I was for some answers, some reassurance, some certainty. Then Sunday afternoon, our governor declared schools closed on Monday, and the plans for instructions changed again.  

Second verse, same as the first for the next several days.  

We would start to prepare based on one plan, receive a different set of directions from top government officials, and then we changed course and began preparing for the next plan. That entire weekend and three days into the week, I worked around the clock preparing lessons, fielding questions, helping students retrieve their Chromebooks from their lockers, or explaining teacher instructions to parents. I created short video explanations for my students and updated their assignments on their online management system and sent them text messages through the online app, Remind. 

Finally, on Thursday, I was home to begin e-learning in earnest. That start proved as tenuous as the first one.  

MY DAY TO PLAN NOW 

What else I didn’t know to expect was the need for those in power to offer help and “reach out” as much as they could, sending my three professional email accounts into overload with one suggestion followed by another link tagged on to a different word of encouragement. Add on to those emails the onslaught of helpful tips from textbook companies or grammar websites and virtual communication companies. Then, I was still fielding the types of questions I expected to have – students who needed guidance.  

Plus, all the other communities to which I belong wanted me to stay in touch, too – my gym, my religious community, my AP colleagues, and seemingly countless others – all had a Zoom meeting planned so we could still meet and stay in touch.  

I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, and in truth, I was very grateful to know that all the communities in which I participate wanted me to stay in touch, longed for us to continue as normally as possible. And maybe all of us were so stunned by the sudden turn of events that all we knew to do was reach out virtually to each other so we could tell ourselves that the world was still spinning, we weren’t all alone in our homes, and we could still connect with other humans.  

Before long, however, I found myself tied into a meeting schedule far heavier than I ever managed when I saw people face-to-face on a daily basis. And it exhausted me. In no way did I enjoy planning my day around pre-set online meeting times, determining whether I would have time to shower or take a walk in between the meeting with my graduate school advisor and my office hours, or if I should save the shower until after my office hours but before my Bible study, which was followed by my meditation group. 

LEARNING TO SAY NO 

If you are like my husband right now, then you are probably suggesting that I should never have allowed myself to be roped into so many groups, and yes, some of them I volunteered for; others I felt I needed to do for my own benefit, and others were straight-up professional responsibilities. But in normal life before the pandemic, I was one of those people who loved being around other people, which is quite a handy quality to have as a teacher. So, in normal life, before the pandemic, I enjoyed all my interactions with friends and colleagues and gym members and baseball moms, even though my schedule was beyond hectic. 

The difference in those days was the talk time, the facial expressions, the spontaneity. Looking at each other through a computer screen is just not the same as sharing stories side-by-side while we watch a baseball game, and rarely does a Zoom meeting provide direct eye contact that leads to knowing giggles like the laughter that would erupt during our lunch time. This new meeting time was too pre-scripted, too regimented, too artificial. After all, who hosts a Zoom meeting without a clear agenda?  

After a couple of weeks of trying to attend all the meetings and to sketch out a plan for the day that looked a bit like notes from my calculus class in high school, I decided to take back my day. I had work to do, of course, and there were some non-negotiables that I couldn’t navigate around – office hours, faculty meetings, etc. Outside of those, however, I decided that I should be the one to decide how I spent my day.  

A MORE LINEAR PLAN 

So rather than succumbing to the missile attack on my Gmail calendar, and rather than going the opposite direction and just throwing it all away and doing nothing, I created a schedule. You can blame it on the fact that I have lived on a bell schedule for the last 23 years as a high school teacher, or you can blame it on all the years I have taught American literature, but I created a schedule that I like, along with a program to get done what I want to get done.  

So, in the tradition of Ben Franklin, or heaven forbid, Jay Gatsby, I eased into a pattern that looked something like this: 

7:00 am	Wake up	Without early morning duty, I eventually fell into a sleep schedule based on my body clock, and on almost any day, I would find myself awake naturally within 5 minutes of 7 am.
7:00 – 8:00 am	Bible study, devotion, journal time, Duolingo	Here is where I work on me – my spiritual growth and what I need for my personal edification (plus, I have been trying to do at least 3 Spanish lessons a day for about a year now).
8:00 – 9:00/9:30 am	School work – grading yesterday’s submissions, posting announcements, recording instructional videos	I have been trying to give immediate feedback during the quarantine, and for the most part, if a student turns in an assignment online, I respond within 24 hours. With the absence of face-to-face feedback, I figure quick written feedback is the best alternative.
9:00/9:30 – 10:00 am	Work out time	I can play the recorded daily workout from the 9Round member portal and get my daily 30 minutes of cardio kickboxing going right in my living room – plus I get the chance to break up my computer work with some physical activity.
10:00 – 11:00	Other responsibilities – home or professional	During this time, I might meet with and/or email my graduate school advisors, contact AP colleagues, wash clothes, brew the next gallon of tea, work on some of my creative writing like this blog, etc.
11:00 – 12:00	My 3-mile walk	I try to get in at least 3 miles a day of what I call speed walking while I listen to Hidden Brain or some other nerdy but interesting podcast – or maybe an Audible book or my playlist on YouTube Music.
12:00 – 2:00 pm	Office hours	Time to be online and available for students and colleagues who need me. I hold periodic Zoom meetings here for my students, and I record daily update videos, and I try to contact students who are not keeping up with their work. I also try to include some lunch of some sort here as I work.
2:00 – 5:00 pm	My time	I may read outside. I may reload the dishwasher. I may paint my toenails. I may call my dad or a friend. If I couldn’t take my walk earlier in the day, here is where I get it in.
5:00 – 7:30 pm	Family time	Time for dinner – or time to make plans for what we will get for dinner and to hang out with my hubby and sons.
7:30 pm	Jeopardy	My daily requirement of nerd connection.
8:00 – 11:00 pm	TV / bath time / self-care	One night a week, I still meet with a Bible study group, and we still have drive-in church services on Wednesday nights. I try to fit in a meditation round or two, and I like catching up on a movie or TV show I have missed during the school year.
11:00 pm – 7:00 am	Sleep time	I need a good 7 hours of sleep if I can.

WHAT IT ALL MEANS 

Honestly, I am just not sure what all this means. I know that I fancy myself as a Thoreau type who rejects American capitalistic trappings, but maybe it means I am more drenched in the American portrait of hard work and success than I want to admit.  

Or it may mean that decades in the American public school system have conditioned me like Pavlov’s dogs to need a bell and a lesson plan and a checklist to make myself feel as if I have made the day worthwhile.  I need to see the list dwindle to know that I have not wasted my day.  (I know what you are thinking: what’s wrong with wasting a day?)

Or maybe I just want to be responsible, but I want to be free at the same time. I want to do my job well, but I want to believe I have a say-so in how it gets done.  

Do I call it discipline? A desire not to be sucked into the wasteland that is social media? A need to make the days count? A need to remember this unique time in my life? 

Whatever. I just know that juggling the demands of a virtual world makes me tired and frustrated. If a schedule helps me sleep soundly at night, then a schedule it will be.  

Maybe now that I have the virtue of order knocked out, I can move on to silence. I don’t know, though. That part about avoiding trifling conversation gets me every time.

Thanks, Ben.