The quarantine continues. Both daughters are still home. They are working on papers as I type this. Ally has had a few job interviews and is starting to think about when she will return to Grand Rapids. Caroline is applying for work delivering groceries.
Part of the Messiah College Career and Professional Development Center is now operating out of my kitchen. After overhearing multiple webinars about job searching, and listening to bits and pieces of Joy’s career advice to students, I think I might be able to land a job if this history teaching thing doesn’t work out. 🙂
It’s been chilly here in central Pennsylvania, but I still have had a few opportunities to sit on the garage couch. I got up early the other morning, made a cup of coffee in our new Kuerig, bundled-up, and went outside. After five minutes of staring off into the sky, a high school girl in the neighborhood, who was out walking her dog, saw me sitting in the garage and struck-up a conversation. We talked about what her family was watching on Netflix and she shared some stuff about her classes at the local high school. This girl has lived three doors away from us her entire life, but this was the longest conversation I ever had with her. When I told Joy about the conversation she informed me that the girl is headed to Messiah College in the Fall. I wish I would have known this during our morning chat!
In local political news, pro-Trumpers converged on Harrisburg the other day and demanded that Governor Tom Wolf “open” the economy. I wrote about it here. And yes, I did see people I know at the rally. This pandemic is revealing things about people that were previously hidden behind the veil of neighborliness and civility.
We in the Fea household are all getting on each other nerves. But I think I speak for the whole family when I say we are enjoying our time together. I am not sure when we will all be under the same roof for such an extended period of time again. I have noticed that everyone lingers a bit longer at the dinner table these days. My oldest daughter, Allyson, is helping me write a young reader’s edition of The Way of Improvement Leads Home. (We are still looking for an editor, publisher or literary agent–e-mail me!). Last night we sat around the table and thought about which actors might play Philip and Betsy in the movie version of the book. (We decided on Timothee Chalamet for Philip and Emma Watson for Betsy).
I continue teaching Created and Called for Community online. We are in the “vocation” unit right now. Texts like the parable of the good Samaritan, 2 Corinthians 5: 17-21 (on reconciliation), Jerry Sittser’s The Will of God as a Way of Life, and Dorothy Sayers’s “Why Work?” have taken on new meaning in this pandemic.
The future still seems uncertain. Will I be teaching face-to-face in the Fall? What will Messiah College look like after this pandemic is over? I am thankful to the college leadership who seem to be making wise decisions, but some of the changes have been painful for many colleagues. I have already heard about faculty at smaller, tuition-driven colleges who are wondering if their institutions will survive if residential campus life does not return in late August.
Today I was talking to Joy about residential college students–our own daughters and the students we work with at Messiah. What will happen to them if they can’t return to campus in 2020-2021? How do we deal with the depression, anxiety, uncertainty, loss of face-to-face friendships, and confusion about the future that will come if school is cancelled in the Fall? If a gap year is necessary, what type of programs or opportunities do we need to create in order to keep them engaged in public life during a time of social distancing? How do we encourage them to use this time to grow–intellectually, morally, spiritually? These are huge challenges. I am sure that college students who do not live on campus have some of their own concerns on this front.
In the end, I hope that my role as a teacher and writer is doing something small to serve the common good during this pandemic. But I still feel like I am dealing with something akin to survivors guilt because I still have a job, my family is healthy, and I don’t work in a “front line” profession. Writing these journal entries certainly help. Thanks for reading.