Breast Cancer in the time of COVID-19 Series Part 2: Teaching Online (aka The Silver Lining)

When I began my chemo treatments back in February, I was teaching college classes full-time, that is, dual-enrollment classes for high school students. I had four English 102 classes and one Spanish 102 class, all of them meeting three times a week except for one of the English classes, which met twice a week for a longer period of time. That means 14 class sessions a week, and I also had four different office hour times blocked out in between. I should also mention that these classes took place at three different locations across Savannah, which were our Point University campus and then two of the private schools, across town from each other. Some days I taught or had office hours at all three locations. Normally that schedule is fine, and keeps me active and on the go. But I had my worries and doubts about being able to keep it up during chemo. I had several colleagues lined up, ready to substitute if it all became too difficult for me. I had chemo February 20th, and then March 5th, and was able to manage it. 

Here is how it went: Chemo was on a Thursday afternoon. Friday I was still hyper from the steroid they gave me on Thursday, and I could teach all three of my classes that day (all at one location, thank God.) I got home and rested. Then Saturday and Sunday my body would "crash" into nausea and exhaustion. Lots of anti-emetic medication and rest, and some good nights of sleep, and by Monday morning I was ready to teach again. I did some teaching sitting down, and my students were amazingly understanding and nice about it all. About the time of my second chemo treatment on March 5th, my hair started falling out (see Part 1: Side Effects) and so I first cut my hair super-short for a few days, and then shaved my head. My students were right there in the battle with me, suggesting a mohawk style and encouraging me to brave the shave and take control of my hair. My next chemo would be March 19th, during Spring Break.

During that week before Spring Break, we all became aware that the COVID-19 outbreak had become much more than we expected. It became apparent that the epidemic was about to become a pandemic, and that things were about to get really strange. I had long talks with all my students about what online classes might be like, and how we would handle it, if we suddenly had to go online for "a few weeks." We left for Spring Break not really knowing if we would be back together in the classroom again for a while. 

Let me interrupt myself here to say that this past school year I was blessed with some truly incredible students at all three of the locations where I taught. I feel this way every year, and it seems like every year teaching just gets better and better. I love being in a classroom with young people, helping them to learn, grow, develop, improve, and become the young adults that God has called them to be.  Every year, as soon as I have class lists, I begin praying for each student by name so that when first semester begins I just have to put faces to the names. Still, I often have one or two students who are hard to reach, or a class that has a more difficult attitude as a group, and these things can present challenges. This year I didn't have any of that. I thoroughly enjoyed each of my classes, and looked forward to teaching them every day. At one school, a young man decided (after my diagnosis) that I needed "walk-on" music when I entered the room, much like baseball players have as they approach the plate to be at bat. Each day, when I arrived, he had music cued up, and sometimes he and other students danced. The songs were either appropriate to my cancer battle: "Beat It," "I Will Survive," "Don't Worry, About a Thing," and "Stayin' Alive," (which came with two students doing a choreographed Travolta dance,) or they were great 80s music or other songs that he knew I would like. My class on campus made it their mission to cheer me on through my treatments, bringing me gifts of things that could help, and praying for me. At the other school all the students were pulling for me, and several of them brought in presents. One young man rather shyly handed me a bag, and said, "Both of my granddaddies have battled cancer, and these are some things they said were helpful." Inside were two different types of Lifesavers mints and some ginger cookies, both of which have helped greatly through the nausea of chemo. Two of my students revealed to me that their moms had breast cancer last year, and they put me in touch with them for support. All of this is to explain why the idea of not seeing these students in person for a while was sad and disappointing.

Of course, that's exactly what happened. Early in the week during Spring Break, we found out that classes were moving online, at first for "a few weeks." Within a few weeks this was extended to the remainder of the year. During that Spring Break week, however, I and all my colleagues had to quickly figure out how to turn an in-seat course into an online course practically overnight. As the English and Spanish department head, I had to ensure that all the adjunct professors in my department were up and running. They all stepped up to the plate and knocked it out of the park! In one week everyone had class materials uploaded, calendars and checklists updated, and Zoom meetings scheduled. My class meeting times decreased to once a week for the previously twice-a-week class, and twice a week for the previously thrice-a-week classes. But my workload was about to increase as I created videos and PowerPoint presentations, graded papers online (it's far easier with an actual hard copy of the paper and a pen!) and created tests and lessons in the online environment. I emailed all my students to fill them in on how things would work, and we officially moved to an online format.

The students continued to be amazing. These precious young people signed in to Zoom from their isolation, sheltering in place at home. They could not hang out with their friends at school anymore. They couldn't play their sports or participate in any other extra-curricular activities any more. They had no prom, no special events at the end of the year. Even though the ending of their Senior year (for most of them) was basically ruined, they came through academically. They did their work, participated in class, spoke up, took tests online, adjusted to the new format, and in general excelled in an academic environment that was completely new to them. I became more impressed with them than ever. Some students who were always shy in class "spoke up" eloquently in the online Discussion Board format. Some students who were more gregarious in the classroom became more introspective and better listeners. Yes, a few of them disconnected somewhat, which was understandable given the bizarre circumstances. None of us had ever experienced anything like this before. I tried to make sure to communicate regularly and reach out to any of them who seemed to be struggling. The majority of them proved how adaptable and malleable they truly are. 

The low point, I think for all of us, was when one of my precious students lost her daddy to COVID-19. We were all praying for him, praying he would pull through and be healed, but sadly he passed away. This was sobering and depressing for all of the students at that school who were classmates with his daughter. She was such a trooper through it all. What can any of us say to help her grief? I was at a loss for words. I plan to stay in touch with her for as long as she'll let me from now on. 

As for us professors, we came through it stronger and with more abilities in our "toolbox," as some like to say, than we had before. I've talked with my adjuncts, and they all agree that we came out of the semester knowing a lot more about ourselves, our classes, and the educational and pedagogical techniques and modalities that we can use to educate and encourage our students. 

The silver lining for me in all of this, in case it hasn't crossed your mind, is that I was able to teach ALL of my classes from home, even on days when I didn't feel so good from chemo. Sitting in my dining room, I opened up a Zoom meeting and watched as my students all joined the class remotely. They still cheered me on my journey. I showed them my bald head, and advised them that they should be happy I put on makeup! We joked, laughed, talked, lectured, discussed, questioned, answered, sang, and generally did all the things we normally did in person, but now we did it all together but separately. The class of 2020 is seared indelibly in my mind. I can't wait to see what God has in store for them as they move on to college and beyond.