A Pandemic Is a Terrible Thing to Waste

Now that we’ve arrived at this inflection point, when it feels like the curve of the universe might finally bend in a better direction, when we still have the metallic taste of fear in our mouths, but we’re beginning to feel the thawing trickle of hope in our hearts—while we are still in the muscly grip of the pandemic, but feel as though we’re finally flexing our own biceps with the vaccine—now is the time to ask: What do we make of this terrible year we’ve endured?

It’s no exaggeration to say that everyone is re-evaluating everything. The pandemic radically, swiftly, brutally upended every aspect of our lives, and now that we’ve been forced to accept what seemed impossible—namely that anything (including funerals) can be redefined, reimagined, reconfigured—we’re asking ourselves, What do we want to keep from this horrible experience? What’s the good that floated to the surface when the boat that was our Lives in the Before Times crashed against the rocky shore? What do we salvage from the wreckage and what do we let sink to a watery grave? Many of us made surprising discoveries of delight: more time with our kids, daily walks, less pressure to socialize too much, no commute. From exercise habits to better work/life balance to focus on family to working from home to an overall slower pace, everything is up for a complete vision overhaul. And that includes: school visits.

I’ve been doing a lot of virtual visits lately. (I just posted on my website four short clips that give a sense of what my visits are like, each with a different grade.) When I talk to teachers and administrators, I keep hearing different versions of the same question: Will in-person school visits come back, and if so when? Principals ask it of authors. Authors ask it of each other. I get the sense that principals are wondering when authors will be willing to return, while authors are wondering when our germy selves will be invited back. This mutually exclusive exclusion has all of us questioning the future.

It’s hard to imagine a time when schools will think it’s a good idea to cram three-hundred-and-fifty third-graders into a gym. And yet, this is how it was: hundreds of wiggling bodies sitting criss-cross-applesauce on an unswept cafeteria floor, so close their knees bumped, so close their shoulders were pressed together, so close they could reach forward and tap the shoulder of the child in the next row. I’m astonished that we did this without thinking. All of us, hundreds of us, in a room that was too small, with no open windows, breathing in and out, shouting, laughing, sneezing, coughing, so that by the end of the presentation, the air was thick with our collective funk. I remember times when the kids would come straight in from recess, sweaty and panting, and the windows would fog up with their youthful humidity.

And we all kept breathing, in and out. 

(I think about the many times before the pandemic when I would enter a school and be told by a teacher, “Oh, there’s a terrible stomach bug going around—half the kids are out,” and then the rest of us would crowd into the gym for a presentation! I don’t know about you, but during this 14-month stretch of social distancing, I haven’t had so much as a cold. Not one cough. Not one fever. Not one sore throat. Not one runny nose. It’s something to ponder.)

So, I have trouble imagining in-person school visits returning anytime soon. But then again, I have trouble imagining going back to crowded movie theaters or tightly-packed restaurants or rush-hour elevators. It’s even hard to envision a grocery store with two-way aisles. So…maybe this is largely a failure of my imagination. Or maybe we’ll just never look at mass close contact in the same way again.

Meanwhile, principals are wondering about us: Will authors come back into the schools? Will they risk getting on a plane, staying in a hotel, riding in a taxi, shaking hands?

I have to report: A lot of my author friends are saying, Never again. I am never going back to in-person visits. And not just because of the risk of infection from all kinds of germs, but because virtual visits have so many advantages. 

I did twenty-two virtual sessions for a school district in California this year. They scheduled presentations for Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, (not Thursday) and Friday. And then they wanted a single day two weeks later. And then at the last minute they added another single day separate from all the others. If we had followed that schedule for in-person visits, it would have required three roundtrip coast-to-coast flights—which would have been impossible. But, virtually, it was not only possible, it was actually easier. 

One day this spring, I did a virtual visit in North Carolina in the morning, a virtual visit in a local town at midday, and a virtual visit in Pittsburgh in the afternoon. Easy.

There was one school that wanted me to do three sessions, but the morning was the only time that worked well for them. So, I visited with them at 8:30 am on Wednesday, 8:30 am on Thursday, and 8:30 am on Friday. No problem. 

Another school called me three days before they wanted me to appear. Could I do it? they asked. Sure, I answered, slotting it in between a virtual doctor’s appointment and a phone call with my lawyer.

No travel costs. No packing. No hotel stays. No rental cars. No hassle. What’s not to like?

And yet…the kids. I miss the kids. I stare at the screen. I call them by name. I notice when its Dr. Seuss day and they’re all wearing funny hats and blue hair. I ask them about the weather and the time difference, and tell them what’s going on where I am. I ask them questions and answer theirs. I do everything short of reaching out with both hands, willing my fingers to break through the glass that divides us. 

Sometimes I ask myself, what’s the difference, really, between being connected through a high-quality monitor with great sound and being there in person? The answer comes to me without even thinking: everything.

I will always do virtual visits, if for no other reason than that they make it possible for multiple schools to share a single session with me, thereby dropping the per-school cost to a fraction of my usual fee. It thrills me when five schools get together and I present to all of them at the same time. These are schools that don’t have the budget to fly me across the country and have me all to themselves, but now I’m talking to their kids, calling them by name, answering the questions they’ve always wanted to ask an author. It’s a great option and one of the truly good things to come out of this terrible year.

But in-person visits? Yeah. That’s in my future, too. I’ll come, bringing my germs with me, and eat cafeteria pizza in the library with the kids and probably catch a lot of colds and miss flight connections and long for my own bed. Can’t wait.