Here’s the next in the “Outside My Window” series, chronicling life during the COVID-19 pandemic.
Politics
Last May we were at a crucial moment here in the state of Ohio. We were on the cusp of ending the COVID “shelter in place” orders, and there was a great deal of controversy about what decisions should be made. The Governor, Mike DeWine, seemed to be moving towards continuing restrictions, but the state legislature was making a lot of noise about restricting his powers and forcing the rules to be lifted.
The end result of the political infighting was that the Governor sacrificed his Director of Public Health, Dr. Amy Acton, to the political wolves. She started as an icon of science-directed COVID policy, but became a lightening rod for all of the public protests demanding the economy re-open. DeWine was all-in behind her — until he wasn’t. She gracefully resigned, and DeWine caved in to the demands for an end to restrictions. Politics won, science lost.
Argument
In the middle of all that, I ended up in a social media battle over the consequences of ignoring science. One participant told me that since I was retired, I had no place making any arguments at all. He told me I was getting my “pension” regardless, so I couldn’t understand the real life impacts the COVID restrictions were having.
I countered that I too was feeling the economic impact of the restrictions, but also saw the real medical results of COVID sickness and death. In May, and still today, we couldn’t move forward economically without dealing with the disease. And besides, I put in my thirty-five and a half years to earn that pension, and I was actually teaching at the time. I had the “right” to my opinions. The argument got ugly, and ultimately I took the social media equivalent of walking away from the discussion. I blocked him.
Isolation
But there is one point that he made that was true. As a retiree, I could insulate a lot of my life away from the social contacts that risk COVID exposure. I didn’t have to go out that much: get to the store and to the gas station, and spend any time in public outside. The substitute teaching I was doing was online. What I mostly “lost” was direct physical contact with my family, travel Jenn and I enjoyed, and all of the Track and Field (Athletics) officiating and advising that I usually did.
So I missed learning one thing that anyone working in this world has experienced. I haven’t spent a lot of time working with people while wearing a facemask.
It’s Cross Country season now. The mega-meets with hundred of teams that dominated the running schedule for the past the thirty years are cancelled, including the McGowan Invitational that I managed at Watkins Memorial High School for decades. It was one of the three largest meets in Ohio: but putting 5,000 kids and their coaches, parents and friends all in one place is the definition of a “super-spreader” event today.
So the meets are smaller, maybe eight or ten teams. And as an official I am working some of those meets. It’s all outside, spread out over a two or three mile running course, so it’s not too difficult to maintain “social distancing”. And I am masked from the moment I step out of the Jeep, as are the coaches and most of the spectators. Even the runners are masked before and after the competition.
Muffled
I have discovered that I feel “insecure” with the mask on. I coached Cross Country and Track for forty years, and I have officiated for a lot of that time, so why am I insecure now? After a lot of thought, I’ve found three reasons why this happens. The first is the obvious one, I feel muffled by the mask. It’s like talking with your hand over your mouth — like you’re not supposed to be loud. And, of course, because you have a mask on you absolutely need to be louder, so it’s finding the appropriate volume level that makes for insecurity. Too quiet, no one understands you. Too loud, you come across as obnoxious. Finding the balance (that was natural without the mask) is a new problem.
The second issue is that I am definitely a “sunglasses” guy. Bright sunlight is wonderful for everything except my eyes. But the mask fogs the sunglasses, seemingly no matter what I do. I’ve tried to wear the mask in different positions and I’ve even bought the “wipes” that prevent fogging. Neither works, so I have to wear a hat, which really isn’t my thing.
Reading
Both of those things seem petty, and they are. But last night it finally dawned on me what the real problem is. As a teacher, administrator, coach and official I have always “read” the folks I deal with. I read their “body language”, and more importantly, their facial expressions. It was always the joke, that I could tell what kind of day a student was having from the moment they entered the classroom door. But it wasn’t a joke: I was able to “read” the kids coming in my door. It was a part of my success in education.
But “the mask” cuts at least half of that away. I can read people’s eyes, but not their face. It cuts away a lot of how I approach interaction with people, and I’m sure I’m not the only one in education, or life, who has this issue. Masks prevent us from “knowing” each other without words. And as an educator who had the “privilege” of teaching through March, April and May (great time to take a long-term substitute job!) it makes a lot of sense why “online” teaching was so disconcerting. Even face-to-face “Zoom” meetings aren’t quite the same, especially with students who chose not to turn the video portion on. If you can’t read the kids, you can’t reach them.
Interaction
I’m not advocating we get rid of masks. If I were back in the classroom (that still feels like a super-spreader event) I’m sure I would find a way to adapt, a new way of “reading” kids that would allow for better interaction. But in an era where we are already pulled away not only by COVID, but by the devices in our pockets that soak up so much of our attention and our lives, it’s one more factor that isolates us from each other.
The “Out My Window” Series
Out My Front Window – Part One (4/21/20)
Outside My Window – Part Two (4/23/20)
Outside My Window – Part Three (4/26/20)
Outside My Window – Part Four (5/13/20)
Outside My Window – Part Five (6/3/20)
Outside My Window – Part Six (7/3/20)
Outside My Window – Part Seven (7/31/20)
Outside My Window – Inshallah (8/13/20)
Outside My Window – Part Eight (9/15/20)
Outside My Window – Part Nine (9/25/20)
Marty, you learned to “read” people because you had eyes. You’ve probably heard that blind people are able to sense things that sighted people cannot – they learn to “read” with their ears and other sensors.
In the 1980’s my job involved interviewing candidates for jobs. I conducted phone and live interviews, traveling all over the country. I noticed that my eyes were not always helpful in interviewing; sometimes they transmitted biases. As an experiment, I replaced a process involving one phone and one live interview with two phone interviews. It took a lot of practice, but I found I could achieve much better results. I found ways to be much more observant with the phone. I found that I could ‘see’ the candidate better just by listening better.
So there’s no need to fret about masks. If we didn’t have such a dingleberry in the White House, if a real President made it “cool” to mask and distance, we may have greatly reduced Covid spread. Which is better – being alive with foggy sunglasses or the alternative?
Oh no question — I’m not writing “in opposition” to masks – just noting that it does change how we perceive each other in this world. With practice – we shall adapt and overcome!!