It's Time For Whine: Erin is a pane in my glass

Every self-diagnosed acronym I have is coming into serious play here. I am either curled into the fetal position, staring blankly at a screen or pacing the floor like a caged animal. Sleep eludes me as I murmur the names of my students like a mantra. My detail-driven nature, when it comes to lesson plans, had me wrestling with three devices today as I spent hours attempting to access files, edit and up-load videos, rotate photos, and re-arrange content on posts in between learning how to conference call ("Nod if you can hear me!") and communicating with families via phone, text, email, and social media. And I am so cold...a cold that is emanating from within.

Described as an "Extroverted Introvert," I tend to remain in my class room and mind my own business. No one ever believes this because I get into trouble...a LOT. But the trouble comes to me...I swear. And sometimes trouble is spelled E...R...I...N. Prior to a week ago, Erin would invade my classroom on a daily basis to sing an obnoxious little song and bestow upon me an obnoxiously bedazzled little gift. We tried locking her out...relocating Room 24 to a frigid alcove in the hallway...escaping to the high school track and disguising ourselves as Colonial Americans...to no avail. Erin ALWAYS finds me.

So as I struggled to adjust to my new life as a person in a petri dish, I tried to look on the bright side. No more 5:40 a.m. text messages...TING!...with a positive message...an audio recording of her singing like a "Disney princess" (her words...NOT mine)...or video of her kids dancing. No more morning interruptions. No more happy hollers down the hallway..."Amy...I'm going to just keep yelling until you answer me!" No more Hershey hugs in my mailbox. No more Erin.

Except...

Nope. Erin doesn't understand isolation. But she does understand that I'm a burrower. We were well on our way through March...I'd begun to peek tentatively out of my dark den...Erin coaxing me along with Pepsi and chocolate...and then...the virus with no shot heard 'round the world struck...and I dove right back into my hole with Erin...chattering away, dancing around...diving in after me like Rikki-Tikki-Tavi after the snake. Incessant text messages. Video calls. "Answer the phone, Amy...I know you're home. You're quarantined!"

Erin decided to deliver my daily gifts last week before the mandatory shelter-in-place was
announced. "I'm going to wear gloves," she informed me, "and hang the bag with your presents on your mailbox." I didn't want her to come. I stared out the window for an hour, looking for her car to come down the road. Because I didn't want her to come. I made a sign for the window, expressing how I felt about this unwanted visit. Because I didn't want her to come. We pressed palms through the glass before she left...before she drove away and I cried...because I didn't want her to go.

It is, for all intents and purposes, a physical isolation. But you cannot...be it over miles, down a hallway, or through glass...isolate the heart.