Words have been failing me for the past week. What to say? How to say it? How to introduce the wonderful writing that the CLTM newsletter team has created, how to use this space to say something that matters, how to honor the tremendous collaborative work of Arcadia students, staff, faculty and community partners over the past 10 months. How to show enough appreciation for outrageously wonderful CTLM fellows and campus partners.

I started the year talking about keeping fires burning, but I have to admit that it’s hard to imagine creating a really robust fire right now. I keep craving rest, and I see everyone around me looking like they might also need a nap. But I wonder if real human connection is really what we need the most right now -- the secret sauce for finishing this spring semester. Being on campus a few weeks ago with many colleagues for an accepted students’ day reminded me of the chance that is coming soon for more of us to be in rooms together. Gathering, it seems, might generate just enough of a spark to remind us what it means to create something together that takes up space again and still carries the thread of all we’ve learned while we’ve been floating in our own pods.

Like Every Good Thing

Wide, sapphire, hawk-swooped skies

took the chill out of our lonely bones

but it was the hum of human sounds that

moved us, like hearing a favorite song

at just the right time

We congregated

in familiar yet haunted spaces,

not touching fingers or cheeks

even though we could have

if we dared

We were close enough

under the event tent

to recall being in the same room,

cold enough to seek heat,

assemble like turtles in the sun

Behind cloth-covered lips,

six feet between our toes

it felt like every good thing

to gather together

more holy than I remember

As I reflect on the joys of sharing physical space as a community, I also have to admit that I have found more possibilities for student-faculty connection in the Zoom space during this pandemic than I ever have in my teaching career. As my dog barks at the mail carrier and my cat knocks my seltzer can over, while one daughter facetimes me and the other “whispers” about needing the car or decides to make a smoothie -- all in the middle of a synchronous class session -- I have been forced to acknowledge my humanity in public, while in the role of instructor. And that has created a possibility for shared engagement in learning and possibilities for connecting with students as people that I’ve never experienced before as a professor. Something I hope to carry with me back into Taylor Hall this fall.

There are big, hard things to keep doing – to keep fighting for racial justice on and off-campus, to make schools (including our own) places where many kinds of minds and experiences are fully valued, to find ways to do important work in the midst of uncertainty. We still have much to figure out as we move into the next phase of sharing more physical space as a community. Today I’m remembering how lucky I am – and we are – to get to do this work together. I hope you find rest and connection in the midst of it all.

I'm convinced that when you come to Arcadia you become a ghost. You don’t die or anything but you do the same thing everyday. You float from your dorm, to class, to the Chat, to another class, to the lounge, to your dorm. Restless and wanting for something more to happen. This is probably what it’s like at college just generally; this is probably what it’s like to be a functioning adult with a routine; I wouldn’t know. But there's something about this campus that makes things ghoulish. I think there’s a couple reasons for this; first and foremost is the history of the land. Grey Towers, Spruance, and Murphy are all holdovers from another era that provide an ever-present reminder of what this place used to be: the sprawling estate of rich people, so grand and beautiful but with something sinister underneath. There was death here in the past and there are ghosts here now; everyone has a ghost story about campus. From the little boy that haunts the stables to the ghost in the theater. From the girl that pushes you on the castle stairs to the phantom running in the halls. From hearing Mr. Harrison call for more whiskey to hearing Mrs. Harrison weeping in her rocking chair. Whether you believe these experiences are manifestations of spirits with unfinished business, or are thin spots in the separation between our universe and another, or are just the creaks and groans of old buildings, there’s something about this campus that feels unstuck in time. Knowing there’s other “ghosts” here makes me feel like more of a ghost myself. Another thing upping the spook factor of campus is the phrase “Et in Arcadia ego”, which translates to “Even in Arcadia, there I am”. The phrase is used here and there in art and pop culture; there's a couple old paintings titled it, there’s a Star Trek: Picard episode titled it, it was a part of a Guy Fieri ARG on Tumblr a little bit ago, “Et in Arcadia ego” is around, but I digress. In antiquity Arcadia was a naturalistic utopia and the realm of the god Pan; an Eden-like place of bountiful harvests, flowing streams, and gorgeous landscapes. The “I” in the phrase is understood to be referring to Death, it’s saying that Death is everywhere, even paradise. While I don’t think the Arcadia University campus is a utopia, not by a long shot, there’s something endlessly fascinating and creepy about “Et in Arcadia ego” that makes campus seem that much more fascinating. The last thing that makes me feel mostly ghostly on campus is the emptiness. It’s eerie, especially at night, because you expect to see more people around but there just isn’t. One day when it was raining my friend and I went to go splash in puddles, because there is that little to do around here, and the second the Chat closed it felt like we weren’t supposed to be on campus. There was no one in the Commons, no cars in the parking lots, no one was out and about. Granted it was raining and cold, who would want to be out and about, but it was still a weirdly isolating experience. I felt like we were trespassing on some abandoned polio hospital at one in the morning, not like we were walking around the operational campus of the university that I pay out the nose to go to at seven thirty in the evening. It really drove home the idea that there is barely anyone here.

As solidly negative as “I feel like a ghost” sounds, my feelings about being on campus are more complex than that. It sucks so much sometimes; it’s boring and there’s nothing to do and there’s nowhere to go and the days feel so long I don’t think I would need 80 of them to go around the world. But it’s also fantastic. I see my friends all the time. We don’t do anything (see “nothing to do” above) besides constantly complain and occasionally play Clue, but complaining is a hobby of mine and Clue is the best game in the world so it’s quite fun. Also we just figured out how the train works so my world is a little bigger and a little brighter. I have an in-person theater class and it’s great, even though I have to be a functional person at 9:45 am. I’m learning practical skills like how to not cut off fingers with big, fast saws and how to hang lights so they don’t fall and crush actors and a bunch of other important stuff; important stuff that is a lot easier when I get to learn by doing and I don’t have to conceptualize it from across the country with no previous experience. I’m also working in the Costume Shop in the Little Theater and it’s the same thing; learning through practical application. It’s like when you were first learning how to drive and you had to take a 30 hour online course. You sat through that online course scratching your head, barely understanding what any of it meant but when you finally got behind the wheel you really started to get the hang of driving. Sure you drove over some curbs and broke a few minor traffic laws on accident but it made way more sense when you were actually doing it and not just thinking about it. I get to finally experience college, even if it is a pandemic distorted version of it, which I’ve been looking forward to for as long as I can remember. I’d say that being on campus I’m bored as hell all the time and I’m having the time of my life, it’s kind of a mixed bag.

Teaching over Zoom was effective and certainly necessary the last few semesters, but it was missing something. Canvas helped me be more organized than ever so it was not a lack of preparation. My teaching style did not change much. As a matter of fact, the Socratic method worked quite well over Zoom and kept the students engaged. The students were prepared for class and actively participated. But still, there was something Zoom lacked for me and the students alike.

When my department chair presented me the opportunity to teach All Modes, I without hesitation responded, “absolutely.” In my mind, I was returning to the traditional classroom, which would eliminate what Zoom was missing. My excitement soon turned to apprehension because I remembered back to my initial All Modes experience in March 2020. You may remember the University required us to move our classes online a few days before spring break. I decided to teach from the classroom as if nothing had changed. I was determined to provide the same experience while on Zoom. I positioned the camera so I could walk around the room as usual; however, the emptiness of the space made it feel foreign because I couldn’t see the students. When standing at the podium, I looked at the monitor while the students were speaking, but all they saw was the top of my head because of the camera’s position in the room. If I wanted it to appear that I was looking at the students, I had to gaze into a blank wall in the back of the room, which prevented me from observing their body language as I spoke. Despite my best efforts to keep things “normal,” everything had changed. I left my first All Modes experience thinking, “how am I going to make this work?”

Fast forward a year, I knew I needed to avoid the brief experience I had with All Modes in spring 2020. My goal for All Modes learning was to: teach naturally, provide each student the same experience, and create a positive class dynamic where the two modes merged into one classroom experience. But how? I met with ATS in my classroom and explained my previous experience. I inquired whether a monitor could be put behind the in-person students so I could look out into the classroom and see the virtual students at the same time as if they were physically present. I explained looking to the back of the room would also have the added benefit of making it appear I was looking toward the virtual students. ATS suggested I use a Dten Board. This technology is simple and amazing—it’s like a giant IPad for Zoom. My virtual students can see me because the Dten has its own camera and I could see them clearly. To allow the students to feel connected, I decided to project the virtual students on the screen in the front of the room and use my iPhone to broadcast the entire in-person class facing forward so the virtual students could see those on the Glenside campus.

The technology has made teaching All Modes feel “normal.” I approach my lectures and discussions the same way I would if all students were in my classroom. I still teach Socratically and walk throughout the classroom while engaging with students. Of course, some things are different. For example, I deliberately call on virtual students to answer questions and engage them in discussion. I also make a point to banter a bit with the virtual students and bring the in-person students into the conversation. I try to repeat everything the in-person students say in class because the classroom microphones do not always pick-up the students’ voices, especially while wearing masks. Although I prefer writing certain things on the physical whiteboard, I have found it better to use the Zoom whiteboard or Jam board so the virtual students could see everything clearly. In one of my classes, I have the virtual students keep their microphones active so I get an immediate response and have found the in-person students naturally begin speaking to the virtual students when their microphones are active as if they are sitting in the classroom. In my business law class, I only recently switched the class to All Modes and immediately found a shift in the classroom dynamic. Both sets of students were more engaged and vested in the learning environment.

My experience with All Modes teaching has been positive. During our first All Modes class, the students and I realized what was missing from Zoom—classroom ENERGY. It is hard to describe but teaching from a classroom and having some students in-person made such a difference to the entire learning environment. The in-person students were happy to be on campus and the Zoom students said the class felt more “real.” On several occasions, the in-person students remarked, “it’s as if the Zoom students are in-person too.” Both groups of students credited the multi-layered technology with making the classroom and virtual space truly integrated. I consider my All Modes experience a success but cannot emphasize enough the importance that technology has played in this success. My experience has made me an advocate for All Modes learning. I am confident this modality shift will strengthen Arcadia in the future, but without investing in the necessary technology, the faculty will not have the tools to deliver a quality learning environment for all students.

I can honestly say that I expected spring break to be a little bad because technically spring break was only for three days in the middle of the week. I thought that was absolutely foul, but thankfully technology was on my side. Nothing like canceling class to get me in the break mood. Here’s what my spring break looked like.

I ran some much-needed errands, turned in my library books, and caught up on class readings. Thankfully, one minute into my Friday class meeting, I found out that our class was canceled honoring the true meaning of spring break. Without a class to participate in, my mom and I took the day to go shopping and visit relatives.

Spring Cleaning day:

With the three days given for spring break, I started cleaning my room. I have been meaning to clean my room for months now, and I officially have the time. I threw away things I didn’t need to make room for new things that I don’t need.

Rest Day:

School this semester has become one of the hardest semesters for me, so I needed this much-needed time to refresh my brain and catch up on something in my life that doesn’t revolve around school. I slept and watched gaming and lifestyle videos on YouTube all day. I was extremely happy with the day. I even had time to finish a painting of a woman I started a year ago. It has been a long time since I’ve created any new creative content, and this spring break, I was able to create a video talking about the productivity that I have left.

Last-minute assignment:

In true college fashion, I couldn’t have the whole week to myself. I had to finish some last-minute assignments and start reading for my classes. I did take Sunday off from doing work because it was my birthday, and I decided to live a little. I bought myself some birthday gifts because I know myself best. My parents gave me money to gamble at the local casino, which I lost, but I still had a good time. To end my spring break and birthday off right, I bought my first legal drink in America, I got into bed with my cheap pink Moscato wine, and watched YouTube videos to close out my spring break.

Spring Break Evaluation:

Expenses: $ 700

Happiness levels: 10

Stress levels: 2

Thirty years ago this semester, I walked onto the Mills College campus in Oakland, California as a third year transfer student, finally ready to resume my life after a near-fatal car accident set me back three years from my peers. After attending Temple University full-time and working three jobs to pay tuition and support myself, it felt like an impossible dream to spend three semesters at this idyllic small women’s college and have a more traditional college experience. I was determined to make the most of the opportunity, which (to me), meant getting involved.

I quickly found a spot I thought I could fill. It seemed that a Multicultural Fair was on the calendar, and they needed someone to organize it. Apparently, it was an annual event of cultural exchange where food, dance, and various customs could be shared in the center of this postcard-pretty campus. My hand shot up.

It would not be the first – nor the last – time that my enthusiasm eclipsed my common sense.

It didn’t take long for me to figure out why no one had volunteered for this post. Hiding behind the veneer of gender solidarity, Mills had a race problem. By the third failed attempt at an organizing meeting, I knew we had to pull the plug on the faux kumbaya celebration. But we had a budget and a spot on the calendar, and I had an idea.

You see, one of my three jobs before my car accident was with an African-American professor of psychology at Temple University, Dr. Portia Hunt, who also ran a consulting firm to help corporations become more “culturally sensitive.” I provided support in the office, helping prepare the materials for the trainings, tabulating pre- and post-assessments, and typing up participant feedback.

“Before we can eat and dance with one another, we need to talk to one another,” I told the student government reps, who ultimately approved my proposal to hire consultants like Dr. Hunt to facilitate an evening of dialogue and directly discuss the racial challenges we were facing as a community.

I wince a little to share this with you, partly because as I recount it, I feel the distant echoes of my naivete, and the painful lesson that followed. From my vantage point, as the office helper, I thought these kinds of trainings came equipped with a magic wand that could wipe away the pain, anger and discontent that I found bubbling under the surface of my new community. I later learned that they merely rip off the bandage and expose the infected wound to the air, but the healing is a much longer journey and comes with no guarantees or assurances.

It’s also important to note here that the backdrop of this on-campus struggle was eerily similar to today. In March 1991 we witnessed the horrific beating of Rodney King by L.A. police, over and over on our television screens, not unlike the way we have witnessed the callous murder of George Floyd at the hands of Minneapolis police. Then, much like now, we waited and hoped and prayed for justice to be served at the trial the following year, only to have justice denied, yet again. While the guilty verdict for Derek Chauvin is a notable difference, the fact that it felt more like a miracle than an indication of substantive systemic change.

Fast forward thirty years, I find myself in a similar situation here at Arcadia, albeit with the benefit of a few decades of maturity and experience – and considerably less naivete – under my belt. After a long academic hiatus, I returned to grad school for the too-short International Peace and Conflict Resolution program. Due to the complication of Covid, I ended up doing a domestic internship with the newly-convened Center for Teaching, Learning and Mentoring just as the LOVE Pilot Program proposal was accepted and a team was being assembled.

And, as I have come to learn, Arcadia also has a long-simmering race problem.

To some, including myself, the acronym for this program smacks more than a little of the same kind of kumbaya that plagued the Multicultural Fair at Mills thirty years ago. Also, like the program at Mills, we have ended up in a [virtual] room with the usual suspects: a volunteer group of people who are already involved in, or at least interested in, antiracism. Many of whom have already been banging the drum for a long time and are understandably tired and frustrated.

I won’t pretend we are having a love experience yet, but we might be having a Living Our Values Experience. Right now, the emphasis is on experience, but hopefully, as we continue, that emphasis will shift to the word living. With the benefit of hindsight, I see a few things working in our favor for this program.

First, we have been allotted two years, not one night, to fully explore what it might take as a community to live our values when it comes to dismantling individual, interpersonal and institutional antiblack racism. This work requires consistent effort, multi-faceted approaches, and dedicated community members.

We are under the wing of the new Center for Teaching, Learning and Mentoring, and are part of a campus-wide focus on antiblack racism initiatives (ABRI). We have assembled both a planning team and a participant group that includes the entire spectrum of our community -- including undergraduate and graduate students, staff and faculty. We have created a structure that allows us to meet in affinity groups to build skills and share experiences and support, as well as cross-race groups that focus on understanding the structural dynamics of racism, and looking at authentic and meaningful ways to take action to address these systems. Plus, we have held three community-wide sessions each semester, first as Teach-Ins and then as Act-Ups, that have included speakers and presenters from both Arcadia and the greater Philadelphia community.

Perhaps the most important difference is that the program isn’t carrying the pressure and expectation of the entire university on our backs, even if it feels like we are sometimes. We have had the time and space to try things, to get feedback, to adjust, and to keep going in the face of challenges and upset. While we have taken small, sometimes tentative steps – mostly to preclude rubbing salt in these wounds – we have definitely ripped off the veneer of good intentions and are working to create an authentic movement towards healing and change. In far fewer than thirty more years!

At the end of this month, we will wrap up the first year of the LOVE Pilot Program and undertake a more formal reflection, feedback and planning stage for next year. We are eliciting feedback from everyone who has participated, analyzing the before and after IDI assessments, exploring options for continuity from year-to-year to build on learning, and creating connections to ensure broad participation and applied learning across all parts of the community. We are excited to share this here when available, and hopefully, to expand both our footprint, and our impact, when we return in the fall.

Every year around this time my family decorates for our small Easter celebration. There's all of the typical spring stuff, bright colors, beautiful flowers and some religious decorations as well. That being said, the large majority of our Easter decorations consist of rabbits. Huh?

As a Christian, the Easter holiday begins in Holy Week, leading up to the death of Christ on Friday, and then a celebration of his ascension into Heaven on Sunday. While yes, this is an abbreviated explanation of the holiday, I think it's valid to think about one part that I left out. THE RABBIT! Did I miss something? Was Christ actually a bunny? Was The Bible written by a hare? I don't get it.

So, I woke up and put on my detective pants (which are not my usual quarantine sweats, thank you very much), and got ready to investigate this bizarre choice of a holiday “mascot”. Could it be something we are missing? Is there a meaning to this rabbit? Who is his stylist (asking for a friend)? Is the Easter Bunny purely a corporate invention? Let’s find out.

In a 2015 TIME article titled, “What's the Origin of the Easter Bunny?” Alexandra Sifferlin claims that our favorite dapper rabbit’s history is “clouded in mystery.”Hearing the idea of a mystery on our hands piqued my curiosity and I was met with various theories about the bunny’s origin. Sifferlin explains that, “One theory is that the symbol of the rabbit stems from pagan tradition, specifically the festival of Eostre—a goddess of fertility whose animal symbol was a bunny.” I had my first lead.

I typed Eostre into Google and was immediately met with hundreds of pictures of the Easter Bunny that we all know and love, along with some images of a mysterious woman. I began reading a blog titled, “All About Eostre - The Pagan Goddess of Dawn”, published on the Arcane Alchemy blog site. Eostre is the Pagan goddess of dawn and is typically associated with springtime in Germanic mythology. She is celebrated in the spring equinox, with decorations and celebrations containing bright colors and flowers. The blog post makes the link between these colors to some traditions of painting eggs for Easter, but we still have no connection to the bunny.

Then, I found it. The beginning of our explanation. According to this site, the Easter Bunny represents fertility because, “We all know that bunnies get pretty busy if you know what I mean ;) so they are a perfect animal to symbolically represent the fertility of springtime.” I had to include that quote because it is just perfect. Okay, so there we have it, the bunny represents a new dawning of spring for Eostre and the spring equinox, but even though it’s close, that still isn't Easter.

As quoted further in the blog, Jacob Grimm, one of the most brilliant storytellers of all time, remarks that, “Esotre seems therefore to have been the divinity of the radiant dawn, of upspringing light, a spectacle that brings joy and blessing, whose meaning could be easily adapted by the resurrection-day of the Christian's God." This increible conclusion is exactly the bridge that we needed to get from a celebration of the spring equinox to the Easter that we know today. It’s all about rebirth!

So that leaves me with just one question, how did the bunny become a deliverer of chocolate and other sweets? In a 2009 History.com article titled, “Easter Symbols and Traditions,”the History Editors reveal some new pieces of this mystery. They say that, “According to some sources, the Easter bunny first arrived in America in the 1700s with German immigrants who settled in Pennsylvania and transported their tradition of an egg-laying hare called ‘Osterhase’ or ‘Oschter Haws.’ Their children made nests in which this creature could lay its colored eggs.” From there, business got involved and made the bunny’s eggs chocolate and candy was given to children. Eventually, the nests would be replaced with the colorful easter baskets that we know today and our Easter Bunny began to dress up for his egg runs.

I guess we can consider this mystery solved! It all does link together and points back to some of our state’s earliest history. Though we didn't get to meet the Easter Bunny’s tailor, I know that understanding the cultural significance behind these bunnies does help me to appreciate them more. It is so much more interesting than the typical corporate invention that seems to plague every holiday around the world. I hope that the next time you see a dapper rabbit, you think about this fun mystery and it brings you a smile. Who knows? Maybe you’ll get some Jeopardy questions correct that week too! Sounds like a win win to me.

Planning an event during a global pandemic is, as one may imagine, quite the project. The Pioneer Series is a beloved event coordinated by the Honors Program every year, and the past two years have been extremely successful professional events. I was pretty devastated when I realized that this year’s Pioneer was going to have to be just like everything else these days: virtual. When we began planning the event in January, my fellow coordinator (Brandon Metzinger) and I realized that our committee was going to be much more modest than it had been in the past. It is pretty difficult to get people excited about joining extracurriculars during this time, since most people are very understandably tired of being on Zoom. Our committee ended up being three other students, Brandon and myself, our supervising coordinator Rae Ann Topa, and the guiding hand of the Dean of Honors Helene Klein. Together we had to kind of reinvent the wheel of the event since it would no longer be the day-long event that it had been in the past in order to adapt to the online environment.

Thankfully, 2021’s Pioneer Series was a great success. We ended up deciding to have two alumni speakers: Joe Spearot (‘14) and Julie Demarest (‘05M). Both are professionals in the field of chemistry, but have taken very different paths. Julie is a forensic accountant with the Department of Defense; she leads a team of scientists that work to identify the remains of soldiers for veteran families. She received her masters in forensics from Arcadia in 2005, and she was actually a member of the first graduating class of the program. Joe Spearot graduated from Arcadia with a degree in chemistry in 2014, completed his certifications to become an advanced cicerone, and worked as a quality assurance manager at Dogfish Head Brewing. He eventually left Dogfish to help open a brand new brewery in Delaware called First State Brewing.

Even though our speakers were both from the science fields, they had so much wisdom that was applicable to all types of majors. For example, I am a Politics, Government, and Law major but I found that both speakers were perfect examples of professionals who have maintained loyalty to their values over the course of their career journeys. Joe knew what he wanted to pursue as an undergraduate, and he has done everything that he needs to do in order to become one of the most qualified people in his field. Julie works in a very sensitive field; she needs to exercise empathy and emotional intelligence as she works with veteran families to identify their loved ones. The point of our event is to highlight alumni who have proved that, despite the winding road of one’s career, it is important to keep in mind one’s values of authenticity and integrity. Joe and Julie are perfect examples of that purpose.

I am extremely proud of the work done by my committee in order to get this event off the ground and make it the success that it was. Our moderators, Hannah Cropper and Natalie Maston, conducted themselves in a professional and conversational manner when interviewing Joe and Julie. Our other committee member, Jeremy Harman, monitored the Q&A portion of the webinar in order to ask our speakers questions from the attendees. There was a lot of technological coordination that needed to occur behind the scenes, which is something that we never would have had to deal with under normal circumstances, but our committee was able to have extremely effective communication with each other in order to make sure that the webinar functioned the way it was supposed to. I am also very proud of the marketing plan that we executed as a committee; we were able to pull in fifty attendees at the peak of the event, which we were ecstatic about considering we had to encourage people to attend yet another Zoom meeting. All in all, I am extremely proud of the work my committee did this semester to pull off this important event during a time in which event engagement is lower than it normally is. I am looking forward to, however, next year when we can be together for Pioneer Series 2022!

From: Student, Student <sstudent@arcadia.edu>

To: Pieczkolon, Daniel <pieczkolond@arcadia.edu>

Date: March 1, 2021 11:31 AM

Subject: Help! Sorry! Help!

Dear Professor,

I’m so sorry I missed our Zoom class this morning. And that I didn’t submit the homework assignment that was due today. On Friday, I tested positive for COVID. I’m not feeling terrible, but I’m definitely experiencing exhaustion and I’m really anxious about falling behind in all my classes. I’m usually a straight A student, and I just don’t know what to do with all of this right now. Would it be possible to receive an extension on Homework #3?

Sincerely,

Student

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From: Pieczkolon, Daniel <pieczkolond@arcadia.edu>

To: Student, Student <sstudent@arcadia.edu>

Date: March 1, 2021 12:14 PM

Subject: Re: Help! Sorry! Help!

Hey,

Please don’t apologize! None of this is your fault, and I just hope that you’re getting the rest you need and taking the time to recover.

As for the work in our class, here’s a draft of a new schedule of deadlines for you. I think this should give you the time to heal and make up the work so that you’re fully caught up by the end-of-the-semester onslaught, but let me know what you think. We can revise this to fit your needs. Also, as you’re recovering and then trying to catch up on these assignments, don’t worry about completing the weekly discussion board posts. (You should still try to read your classmates’ posts and keep abreast of the conversation because it may help you with the homeworks/papers, but I’m not going to count these posts against your grade. Hopefully, taking this off your plate will give you a little more time & space to get caught up elsewhere.)

I’ll plan to check in again on the 12th to see how you’re feeling and where we’re at, but if there’s anything else I can do in the meantime, please let me know.

Thanks! And be well.

-Daniel

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From: Student, Student <sstudent@arcadia.edu>

To: Pieczkolon, Daniel <pieczkolond@arcadia.edu>

Date: March 1, 2021 6:35 PM

Subject: Re: Help! Sorry! Help!

Thank you so much! I don’t have access to this link though?

-Student

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From: Pieczkolon, Daniel <pieczkolond@arcadia.edu>

To: Student, Student <sstudent@arcadia.edu>

Date: March 1, 2021 8:04 PM

Subject: Re: Help! Sorry! Help!

Ughhh. I feel like 90% of COVID has been me sending links to people that they don’t have access to. Sorry! It should be good now.

-Daniel

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From: Student, Student <sstudent@arcadia.edu>

To: Pieczkolon, Daniel <pieczkolond@arcadia.edu>

Date: March 2, 2021 10:34 AM

Subject: Re: Help! Sorry! Help!

Lol, thanks :). And this looks great! I can definitely follow this schedule.

-Student

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From: Pieczkolon, Daniel <pieczkolond@arcadia.edu>

To: Student, Student <sstudent@arcadia.edu>

Date: March 12, 2021 6:07 AM

Subject: Re: Help! Sorry! Help!

Hey,

How are you feeling? Do you think Monday (3/15) still works as a deadline for HW #3?

-Daniel

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From: Student, Student <sstudent@arcadia.edu>

To: Pieczkolon, Daniel <pieczkolond@arcadia.edu>

Date: March 12, 2021 11:01 AM

Subject: Re: Help! Sorry! Help!

Feeling so much better! Thanks! And, yes, I’ll have HW #3 in on Monday and a draft of Paper #2 over to you by next Friday.

-Student

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From: Pieczkolon, Daniel <pieczkolond@arcadia.edu>

To: Student, Student <sstudent@arcadia.edu>

Date: March 12, 2021 12:07 PM

Subject: Re: Help! Sorry! Help!

Perfect. Have a nice weekend!

-Daniel

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From: Pieczkolon, Daniel <pieczkolond@arcadia.edu>

To: Student, Student <sstudent@arcadia.edu>

Date: March 19, 2021 1:09 PM

Subject: Re: Help! Sorry! Help!

Hey,

I hope you had a nice spring break(ish)! I’m just getting back into my email because of the university’s Wi-Fi issues. Are you able to connect yet? I think I remember you mentioning that you were living on campus this semester? How is campus connectivity?

I know we set today as the deadline for your rough draft of Paper #2, but we can (obviously) revise that if you’re having access issues. Let me know.

Thanks.

-Daniel

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From: Pieczkolon, Daniel <pieczkolond@arcadia.edu>

To: Student, Student <sstudent@arcadia.edu>

Date: March 22, 2021 9:37 AM

Subject: Re: Help! Sorry! Help!

I’m now definitely remembering that you’re living on campus this semester. You made a joke in class about how the “Chat” should be called the “Quiet” this semester and no one laughed and I felt a deep solidarity with your bad joke courage.

I’m not sure when campus connectivity is coming back--which makes this email a note in a bottle of sorts--but once it does, we’ll figure out a new path forward for you to get caught up.

Please reach out when you can. (And please don’t stress what you’re missing--we’ll figure this out.) If I don’t hear from you by Friday, I’ll look into Glenside area skywriters.

Be well.

-Daniel

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From: Student, Student <sstudent@arcadia.edu>

To: Pieczkolon, Daniel <pieczkolond@arcadia.edu>

Date: March 25, 2021 12:49 PM

Subject: Re: Help! Sorry! Help!

Hey!

I’m back! And so freaked out. Yes, I’m living in Oak and the internet has just returned to us.

I have a draft of Paper #2 still, but I just looked at our revised schedule and I’m already behind on HW #4. Let alone the rest of the assignments. And some of my other professors didn’t pause their assignments for “spring break” or the internet issue.

What can I do?

-Student

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From: Pieczkolon, Daniel <pieczkolond@arcadia.edu>

To: Student, Student <sstudent@arcadia.edu>

Date: March 25, 2021 4:57 PM

Subject: Re: Help! Sorry! Help!

For starters, stop freaking out (as best you can). How are you doing? A week without internet in Oak seems tough? On a scale of one to Jack Torrance, where are you at?

I’m going to make notes on your rough draft of Paper #2 this weekend, and why don’t we plan to meet over Zoom on Monday? We can go over your draft and then (together) set up a revised, revised schedule of work for the rest of the semester. Does 4pm work for you?

-Daniel

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From: Student, Student <sstudent@arcadia.edu>

To: Pieczkolon, Daniel <pieczkolond@arcadia.edu>

Date: March 26, 2021 10:36 AM

Subject: Re: Help! Sorry! Help!

That would be great! Thanks! And I LOVE horror, but haven’t seen The Shining. Is it as good as everyone says? All boomers say it’s good, but is it? Have you seen Tusk?

-Student

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From: Pieczkolon, Daniel <pieczkolond@arcadia.edu>

To: Student, Student <sstudent@arcadia.edu>

Date: March 27, 2021 7:41 AM

Subject: Re: Help! Sorry! Help!

Yikes. Am I boomer? My birthday and non-teaching wardrobe and student loan bills and the fact that I don’t have a 401K suggest otherwise. Sorry, the pandemic is impacting us all.

I sent you a calendar invite (with a Zoom link) for 4pm tomorrow.

You can’t claim horror as a genre without having seen The Shining. Watch it tonight. I will definitely be watching Tusk tonight. I love A24--can’t believe I missed this. Thanks!

See you tomorrow.

-Daniel

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From: Student, Student <sstudent@arcadia.edu>

To: Pieczkolon, Daniel <pieczkolond@arcadia.edu>

Date: March 27, 2021 4:29 PM

Subject: Re: Help! Sorry! Help!

Thank you. For everything.

-Student

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From: Pieczkolon, Daniel <pieczkolond@arcadia.edu>

To: Student, Student <sstudent@arcadia.edu>

Date: March 27, 2021 5:17 PM

Subject: Re: Help! Sorry! Help!

Thank you. For everything.

-Daniel

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*Please note that no students were harmed in the writing of this piece. These are contrived--and not actual--emails; though, conceptually, they do draw from myriad email exchanges I’ve had with students over the course of the last year. Thank you to all of my students who have been generous enough to share their humanity with me through email, Zoom, Canvas, and every other virtual space that we now all occupy.