Day 239 Since School Closed

Day 239 Since School Closed A day in the life of a virtual student

BY HIBA KHAN

7:40 a.m. I woke up late today. I slept through three alarms, with only 20 minutes until my first class started. I jumped out of bed and walked across the hall to the bathroom. It was chilly in the morning, and I was not interested in switching my fleece-penguin pajama bottoms for a pair of blue jeans. Nobody would see them anyway.

I headed back to my room and threw on a school hoodie. I hurriedly made my bed and opened the blinds in my room. 7:49.

I sat at my yellow desk and opened up my sister’s old laptop. The keyboard is plastered in Rutgers stickers, and the screen glowed pure blue. I traced my finger along the trackpad, and sure enough, the cursor had disappeared. I decided to restart it.

The screen, after going black for a few minutes, started up again. I opened up my school and personal emails, catching myself up on any last-minute messages. 7:53.

A Google Hangouts notification alerted me of a classmate’s birthday Zoom call in the evening. With two minutes to spare, I raced down the stairs to grab a glass of water. Breakfast would have to wait.

I joined my first class’s Zoom meeting, Arabic, and greeted my teacher and five classmates. Three students had their cameras off, causing our teacher to spend a few minutes lecturing us on class participation grades this year. He continued the lesson with a Kahoot on grammar and a Quizlet on vocabulary. His microphone echoed quite badly, so he ended the class early.

We have a 10-minute break between each class, but teachers will usually go over time. In the rare case of today, I realized that I had about 23 minutes before English: just enough time to pop two Eggo waffles in the toaster, eat them and get another glass of water. So I went back downstairs, drizzled syrup on the scrumptious frozen waffles and enjoyed my little breakfast while my mom sipped her tea in front of the news. Record Number of Cases Yesterday, blared across the headlines. I glanced at the time and rushed back upstairs. I had to be early for English, but not too early, or else I’d be alone in the meeting with my teacher.

My English teacher let me into the meeting a minute early. Her screen was shared, and on it she wrote, “Menti Presentation Activity.” She had us all enter a code on menti.com, where she prompted us with a question. “Write a quote you noted down in chapter 7. Why?” She projected the responses from “Lord of the Flies”on the screen, and once again informed us of how this would affect our class participation grades. The rest of the class was spent going over the new vocabulary lesson.

Next was geometry, one of my favorite classes. We had a quiz, which meant that our microphones were on and our workspace would be visible in our cameras. I entered the meeting right on time, and so did the rest of my classmates. Our teacher had us open an application that tracked our activity on other tabs. I opened up the PDF and started. Throughout the test, younger siblings cried, lawn mowers roared, and reporters on TV argued in the background. I completed all of my answers on two sheets of loose-leaf paper and borrowed my sister’s iPad to scan my work. Once my photos uploaded to our school’s testing platform, I was free to leave the meeting.

Right before our lunch break would be biology. I find the class interesting, but at the same time there’s an overwhelming amount of information thrust at us during every class. Today would be tiring; we had two periods of the class.

We started off with individual work in an online lab, phospholipids and mitochondria scattered across the screen. To be fair, the website worked well. The lab was interactive enough, and students continued to unmute and ask our teacher questions. She said something along the lines of “If we were in-person, we would have…,” and everyone groaned. It’s hard enough staring at a screen all day. It’s even worse when we’re reminded of what could’ve been.

Lunch and office hours started at exactly 12:30 p.m. I finished up my biology work, prayed and went downstairs. I called out for my mom, and there was no response. I assumed she was out for groceries.

I shoved on my sneakers and opened the garage door. This was my little routine of getting myself out and in the sun. Except

today it was drizzling with rain. I pulled the hood up from my hoodie and ran down the driveway to the mailbox. I opened it with my sleeve and pulled out an Amazon package and a stack of letters. Dr. Cha, my next-door neighbor, backed out of his driveway and waved. Working at an Urgent Care, he had contracted the virus a few months ago. I waved back.

Back inside, I washed my hands thoroughly in the kitchen sink. I called my mom, and she was, indeed, at ShopRite. I made myself a gorgeously seasoned cheese sandwich and grabbed a banana.

Around 1:30, I went back upstairs and texted my cousin in England. He had finished school already, with the time difference. He was going in-person.

We FaceTimed for a half-hour or so, mainly talking about school. Apparently, some of his classmates hadn’t been wearing their masks in the classrooms. And apparently, that was normal.

Before my second biology period, the day’s final class, I decided to get ahead on some English reading: “Lord of the Flies,” chapters 8-10. A death shocked me, and I drew parallels between the boys’ savagery on the island and the seemingly normal people of today. 2:30. Last class and then I’d be free. We talked about the functions of lysosomes, the Golgi apparatus and the different types of

SHE SAID SOMETHING ALONG THE LINES OF “IF WE WERE IN-PERSON, WE WOULD HAVE…,” AND EVERYONE GROANED. IT’S HARD ENOUGH STARING AT A SCREEN ALL DAY. IT’S EVEN WORSE WHEN WE’RE REMINDED OF WHAT COULD’VE BEEN.

endoplasmic reticulum. Our teacher also assigned us a project that, she informed us, would be due next week. “If we were in class, we would have made 3D models of the cell. But since we’re not, we’ll do a cell-themed Google Slides presentation!” I appreciated her enthusiasm, but we all knew we were definitely missing out on our freshman year.

Class ended, and our “9th Grade Honors” chat exploded with messages about the project, among other things. After reading everyone’s opinions for a few minutes, I decided to exit the tab and head downstairs for the fourth time today. I prayed and changed my penguin pajama bottoms; I also finished up my homework.

I sat down at my piano and played a warm-up of a few of my favorite songs and pieces to play. I ended with Chopin’s “Waltz in A Minor.” My headphones were in, because my sister had an exam a room away. I also tried to practice “Mia and Sebastian’s Theme” from La La Land before my FaceTime call with my teacher on Monday.

Then I set the table for dinner and prayed maghrib with my dad. We all ate dinner together, except for the sister taking her exam, and I headed back upstairs for a Zoom birthday call. Girls in my class had made personalized Zoom backgrounds for a friend’s birthday, and we sang over weak wi-fi signals. For the next hour and a half, we talked about her day, our days, and quarantine in general. Some people got emotional, and the conversation sort of fizzled out.

And now we’re here. It’s around 8:00, and I’m going to go back downstairs to chill out for a bit. Maybe watch some of “The Great British Bake Off.” We’ll see.

That’s about it for now. ih

Hiba Khan is a high school freshman from New Jersey. She enjoys reading, playing sports, baking and practicing her piano skills.

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