The Journal of Multimodal Rhetorics

Mary Ann Zehr

Keywords: international students, online teaching, multilingual students

March 21, 2020

Today is the first day of spring. I’m starting a journal about this unprecedented time in modern history. Pretty much all the restaurants and businesses in my small city, Harrisonburg, Virginia, are shut down. The students from the private university where I work have been sent home. Church has been canceled. Most of the places I would go outside of my home have been closed. The Virginia governor has not yet put the state in lockdown (requiring people to stay in their homes except for emergencies) though the governors of Florida, California, and New York have ordered lockdowns.

Less than two weeks ago, I was in denial that the virus would reach my community. I was barely paying attention to the news and couldn’t even pronounce the word coronavirus properly. I knew that the news was reporting something about a lot of people who were on a cruise ship getting the virus and a problem with the virus having spread at a nursing home in Washington State. I saw headlines that President Trump was being criticized for making false statements, such as the number of cases would probably soon decrease to zero.

On Wednesday, March 11, I went to watch several of my students play a home game of women’s lacrosse. A colleague there named two local universities that had decided to temporarily cancel face-to-face classes. With that news, I figured the two universities I worked for would feel pressure to close. I thought, “A university doesn’t want to have a coronavirus case and be the only university in the community open.” Sure enough, the next morning, the private university where I teach three courses announced it was suspending face-to-face classes until April 3. The evening of that same day, the city of Harrisonburg reported its first “presumptive positive” Covid case.

Classes were canceled for Friday and Monday.  Students were told they could decide to go home or stay on campus. My college writing students from the private university had a deadline to turn in a four-page research paper draft by the start of class on Friday. I kept the deadline. I received some papers on Friday morning.

On Friday, March 13, the university information technology team provided training on Zoom, Panopto, and other tools to use for distance learning. We faculty were spread out about a meter apart in a large lecture hall. I sat near a friend. At one point I wheeled my chair over to look at something on her laptop screen. “Social distancing!” she remarked. Her tone of voice was serious. “Ouch,” I thought. People are really taking this seriously.

But most of us had not yet bought into the idea of “social distancing.” I went back to my office. A colleague down the hall who is tech savvy assisted me so that I would know how to make videos and teach a lesson on Zoom. I figured out how to make the video myself, but he helped me to expand the picture to full screen. Then, he showed me tips on Zoom and let me practice teaching him as a long-distance student from down the hall. I felt empowered and proud of myself for getting over my tech-phobia to learn tools for remote teaching and learning.

I had plans for Saturday to join three friends and go to the movie theater to see Emma followed by a restaurant for dinner. We changed our plans. One of my friends hosted a dinner party. She had hand sanitizer on the table when we arrived, and we all used it. We didn’t hug each other.

Then on Sunday evening, March 15, a student at the private university where I work had flu-like symptoms and was hospitalized. Students were ordered to go home unless it was impossible for them to do so. That’s when I realized the virus was going to be a big deal, even in my community. I started reading news incessantly online. Some of it was depressing, about the cases doubling in a short time in various communities. But there was also hopeful news as people started to unite and be creative.

On Monday, March 16, I took training on how to use Zoom via Zoom from the community college where I teach.

On Tuesday evening, I watched Joe Biden and Bernie Sanders debate each other. There was no live audience, and both had canceled campaign rallies. The lecterns were six feet apart. They gave each other an elbow bump instead of shaking hands. The debates focused a lot on how they would handle the coronavirus.

The private university sent out an email saying that we should, if at all possible, work from home. My Internet connection isn’t good at home, so I went to my office on both March 18 and 19 and taught Zoom lessons from there.

The first Zoom lesson, with eight out of my nine multilingual students from the intensive English program, went well. Everyone seemed happy to see each other. It took us about a half hour for everyone to help each other to get on Zoom. But there was good energy about the lesson, despite the glitches, and the students agreed we should meet by Zoom twice a week.

I asked students to share what they had lost or were losing because of the coronavirus crisis and what they appreciated. One student told me she no longer had work. However, she said she trusts God. Two students wondered if they would be able to return to their home country—a country in Asia. Another international student had already left campus, so he joined us by phone on Zoom from the airport. His government had required students to return home. He planned to continue his lessons from his home country. I had my doubts about whether this would work out well.

My March 19 lesson with a writing class for multilingual students from the community college by Zoom was less successful. One student didn’t show up on Zoom or answer my email afterward. Another student had connected with me in a test run in the morning but then wasn’t able to get on during class time. One student seemed depressed. He said he’d been inside for four days. He was afraid to go out. I told him he could go out in the fresh air. After class, I sent him a CNN news video with advice that it was okay to go outside, just that one should stay six feet apart from other people.

I continued to grade four-page research drafts from college writing students from the private university. I had to send some papers back because students hadn’t included their reference lists or in-text citations. Extended deadlines had come and gone, and I was still missing drafts from about half a dozen students. I hadn’t heard from them. I started sending out emails, “Are you out there? Send me an email. Are you okay?”

I went to the grocery store and stocked up on fruits and vegetables: blackberries, grapefruit, asparagus. I chose some fruits or vegetables that I hadn’t eaten for a while that would seem tempting. I didn’t buy any bread because I’ve been eating too much bread.

Most days, I’ve been taking a walk for a mile to the university and back in late afternoon. One day, I drove to Shenandoah National Park and walked for two hours in the woods. A gentle rain fell. That seemed to calm my spirit.

I’m starting this journal as a health move.

Bio

Since she wrote this journal entry, Mary Ann Zehr has been hired for a full-time position as a first-year writing instructor and the writing coach for graduate students at Eastern Mennonite University in Harrisonburg, Virginia. She is also an English doctoral student at Old Dominion University in Virginia.