Just Passing

42. Not Special

Today is International Transgender Day of Visibility. Yet, despite everything that's happened at work, I'm not feeling very visible right now. I'm literally not allowed to leave the fucking house. How can I be visible from my couch?

For the past two weeks, we have been working from home. The Superintendent sent a letter closing all schools and shifting us to remote instruction–appropriately enough–on Friday the 13th. At first, it was temporary. A week. But last Friday it became a month. I have a sneaking suspicion that soon it's going to be indefinite.

I must only use the phrase "working from home". Tiffany won't let me say that we are in "quarantine" because we have no known exposures. Apparently, "quarantine" is a dirty word. Or at least taboo. Something reserved for people who either have or might have Covid. Which, as far as we know, we don't.

Yet.

But whether I am simply "working from home" or am in "quarantine", I am trapped inside my house instead of being out in the world. We're ordering groceries online, rationing toilet paper, and wiping down our Amazon boxes with oh so precious clorox wipes.

All this shit is surreal.

Before the world shut down, the plan for Trans Day of Visibility was just to recognize the day during morning announcements. Maybe say a blurb. There were no plans for any big hullabaloo. It's not like we were going to put on another assembly so soon after Danielle's presentation. Not that the assembly wasn't a good time. I have no regrets. But, I doubt it will be an annual thing, nevermind a monthly thing.

The other day, Ms. Reid sent me an email and suggested commemorating the day somehow over Zoom. Zoom? I hadn't even heard of Zoom two weeks ago. And with the reports of hackers interrupting meetings, I'm not willing to delve into such a personal topic in such an impersonal way.

Also, I don't trust my children to be quiet in another room.

All I know is that I'm glad that I'm not a classroom teacher during this mess. The only ones thriving right now are the youngsters without children. People with kids living at home are drowning. The veterans are out of their element.

The only silver lining–and I know this makes me an asshole, but it still sent a spark of joy running down my spine when Jessica confided this in me–is that Steve is completely out of his mind and is flustered by his younger colleagues.

There is nothing more humbling than having a 24-year-old colleague who is barely out of college being the one asked to start a folder in the share drive called "Teaching Tech Tips".

And some tips are pretty damn good. Who knew you could make Zoom breakout rooms? Or make a virtual classroom using Bitmoji and Google slides? And Screencastify is going to be a lifesaver for kids who need to listen to directions more than once.

This morning it's my goal to skim through the tech tips already listed and to add some math-specific resources. But it's so hard to get anything done while hiding in the bedroom and sitting on a laptop. I keep getting distracted.

Tiffany is blasting Sam Smith from our Alexa, and she is singing along loudly, with the kids adding their own background vocalizations. The walls are practically humming along too; the volume is so high. I can hear the lyrics leaking in from the crack under the door. Something about dancing with a stranger. Either a break-up song or a cheating song.

Should I be worried? After two weeks trapped in the house together, is she that desperate to get away from me?

"I'm trying to work in here!" I holler. Why would she ever want to get away from me? I'm a very tolerable person to be around.