STAY-AT-HOME Week 2: Tales From the Outdoors

My husband, Dan, and I don't have a huge problem social distancing. We are homebodies who kind of enjoy solitude. And we love going outside.

The Idaho Governor issued a stay-at-home order this week, but not before being called out on national television by Rachel Maddow. How embarrassing! #facepalm

However, we are still allowed to spend time outside. (Some Idahoans have been abusing this "loophole.")

Dan and I have been staying on the less busy trails close to home, running or biking during less populated times.

The weekend before Governor Little's statewide order, Dan and I drove through a local coffee stand.

"Any big plans?" the barista asked.

Dan and I glanced at each other.

"We're headed home after a run on the Greenbelt," Dan said.

"Oh, I was on the Greenbelt yesterday! It was so great to see so many people outside!" she raved.

"There shouldn't have been that many people out," I muttered to Dan as we drove away.

The weekend prior to the statewide shelter-in-place was crazy. Hoards of teenagers and young adults swarmed the local trails and parks in Boise, despite the Mayor's social distancing order of no more than groups of ten. This infamous weekend included picnics, Frisbee matches, and drum circles at Camel's Back Park.

I would like to go on record and say, as much and Dan and I love the outdoors and a good drum circle, we were NOT there.

Like I said, I have been running on less populated trails close to my home at less populated times. My precautions haven't prevented me from running into some weird people though.

About a week ago, I was cooling down after a jog and was on my way back to my car.

All of a sudden I heard a gruff, "HELLO" at my shoulder.

I turned and saw an older gentleman, a neighborhood resident out for a walk. He wasn't staying six feet away from me. He wasn't even crossing to the other side of the path to pass me. He grumbled something about me being too close, even though he was the one who had approached me.

"I'm sorry. I can't hear you over my iPod," I lied. I could totally hear him being a crotchety old man.

"I SAID, SOCIALLLL DISTANCINGGGG!!!!" he boomed.

"Okay . . ." my voice trailed off as I hastily ran away from him.

I don't think he was being malicious. I think he may have been making some kind of political point or maybe even a joke.

But, Older Gentleman who I totally hope is reading my blog, here is my problem with your joke: a) You were not social distancing six feet away from me and b) We were on the Greenbelt, and you're a dude. You don't think I worry constantly about getting raped?

Since then, I've been hearing other stories about people getting yelled at in stores by women who think they should have an entire aisle to themselves even if the other shopper is six feet away. There was an anecdote in the paper about a person yelling profanity at a kid, calling him an asshole while he rode his bike near a park.

I fully admit, after last weekend, I could be turning into one of those grumpy people.

During our bike ride, even after taking our roads-less-traveled precaution, I was getting judge-y.

"All those teenagers don't look like they belong to the same family," I hissed, and later, "What's with these four baby boomers taking up the entire path? Don't they know we're in the middle of a pandemic, and they are the most vulnerable demographic?"

The next time we hit the trails, Dan asked if I had everything, and I said, "Yes, I have my pepper spray. That way, I can make sure people stay away, like this," I held up the dispenser, "You've been social distanced!"

"That's very formidable, Becky."

Truth be told, getting out of my running clothes is the biggest problem I'm having right now.

Social Distancing Week 1: Tales of Working From Home
STAY-AT-HOME Week 3: Our New Routine
STAY-AT-HOME Week 4: This Week, I Clean My Own House
STAY-AT-HOME Week 5: Dan and I Are Like Banksy 

For the latest blog updates, visit and "like" Rebecca Turner-Duggan.

Social Distancing Week 1: Tales of Working From Home

What a difference a week makes! I was supposed to be recovering from my spring musical this week, basking in the sense of accomplishment and excitement from having pulled off a production with 150 5th and 6th graders.

Then the world changed.

Friday afternoon, my principal entered my classroom with a look that told me things were going to get weird. I had an inkling. I had been receiving emails all week about sending in all of our music events for review and suspending additions to our performance calendars.

By Friday, the District decided to cancel all assemblies and events that involved 250+ people. We brainstormed all weekend about how to reschedule or possibly livestream the program.

By Sunday, the schools were closed. I didn't even say goodbye to the students who had put their hearts and souls into our program.

At church that Sunday, the last Sunday before online only services became a thing, we prayed collectively about the virus.

"Dude, that reminded me of the scene in Beneath the Planet of the Apes," I said to my husband, Dan, after the service.

"The one with the nuclear bomb! I thought the exact same thing!" he said.

All of a sudden, Dan and I were both working from home. Well, Dan was the only one officially working. I was spending lots of time watching for work updates and reading articles online.

During our first week of working from home, I accidentally walked in on him during a teleconference. I hid my face and ducked out, embarrassed.

The whole situation reminded me (a bit too much) of that video where the kids sneaked in during the father's BBC interview,  and the mom flew through the door and swept the intruders away like a freakin' superhero.

Later that day, I warned Dan I was going to practice some music.

"I’m closing this door because I might get loud."

Dan looked at me over the top of his glasses, "That won’t help."

After I walked in on him during phone calls a couple more times, we came up with some signals.

Dan told me about a coworker who worked from home a lot and wore a company hat as his "busy signal."

"When he had his hat on, it meant he was working and couldn't talk to his wife," Dan said. "Maybe if you don’t hear music or a podcast, assume I'm on the phone or at a teleconference. Enter at your own risk and only if you want to be embarrassed on camera again."

The next afternoon, I made him some coffee and left it outside the door.

"You can bring me coffee. The guys at my meeting would think that's really nice of you."

"I can't figure out your rules!" I exclaimed. "Do you want me to interrupt during meetings or not? Or only if I have coffee?"

We decided that if Dan closed the door, it meant he was in a meeting. If the door was cracked or open, it was safe to enter.

This article, written by a friend of mine, helped Dan and I establish our at home routine. I jokingly told my author friend, "It may have saved our marriage . . . LOL."

"But it's not that big of a deal if you walk in while I'm in a meeting," Dan said. (The first tip in the article is "give . . . your loved ones grace.")

 
Around Tuesday, I started posting Facebook Live singalongs for the kids.

These mini singalongs started out as a thinking-of-you message, especially to my students who were supposed to be in the middle of the much anticipated Tech Week for our spring musical.

The singalongs also kept me connected to my friends, to their little ones, and to my current and former students and families.

Big time bonus: My nephews have been watching everyday from Twin Falls.

"So fun!! Des loved when you got really fast at the end, haha! He also said, 'Is Uncle Dan still asleep?'" my sister-in-law commented after I posted my first singalong.

"Tell Desmond that Uncle Dan wanted to sit and stare at me from the couch," I replied. "I made him go in the other room."

And that concludes my first week of social distancing. Before I go, I want to give a shout out to all of the frontline workers who can't work from home. Let's not forget, they are riding into battle everyday.

Wash Your Hands

Don't Touch Your Face

Get Some Exercise

Keep Singing!

STAY-AT-HOME Week 2: Tales From the Outdoors  
STAY-AT-HOME Week 3: Our New Routine
STAY-AT-HOME Week 4: This Week, I Clean My Own House
STAY-AT-HOME Week 5: Dan and I Are Like Banksy  
 

For the latest blog updates, visit and "like" Rebecca Turner-Duggan.

Ugh . . . Puberty!

The other day, I was directing a rehearsal, and I overheard one of my young actors exclaim, "I’m shaking!"

"Are you nervous about being off book?" I asked her, realizing, in hindsight, the naïvety in this question.

"No," the other girls and boys started chiming in, "We have puberty class next week. And . . . we have to learn about . . . the other one . . . you know?"

"You know . . . the other . . ." they kept saying, widening their eyes.

"The boys have to learn about the girls, and the girls have to learn about the boys," I translated.

Thanks to whomever, by the way, for having puberty class the week before our musical.

"It will be fine," I assured the kids. "We all went through it and survived."

Secretly I thought, "And I'm glad I don't have to go through that again."

Trigger warning: Unenlightened men and prudish women, plug your ears.

I started my period early. I was eleven years old, and we had only been living in Idaho for a few months. I was already the nerdy freckle-faced girl who wore glasses that were two inches thick. And I had to deal with a period on top of all that?

I missed the puberty talk in Ohio and arrived right after the one in Idaho, but I had already learned about it from reading Are You There God? It’s Me Margaret and Deenie umpteen times. Several well-meaning girls from my new 5th grade class gave me a copy of the puberty book they had received a few weeks earlier. Apparently, I was the only one who really needed it.

Oh, and I learned about puberty from my neurotic mother, a woman who never wore tampons because she thought TSS was inevitable, and you even could die from taking one out of the package.

She also taught me to be thankful that I didn't have to wear the old 1950s maxi pads with belts. For that, I was thankful.

I was a dancer though, and I got tired of wearing pads under my leotard. So in 9th grade (I wish I had done it sooner), I locked myself in the bathroom with a mirror and figured out how to wear a tampon.

I came out crying, not because I was hurt, but because I was emotional from the gravity of it all.

My husband, Dan, laughed when I told him this story.

"That doesn't sound like you at all," he said, his tone of voice making it clear that it sounded exactly like me.

"I'm a woman now!" I proclaimed tearfully to my mother and anyone else in earshot of the bathroom.

My mother called our family doctor and asked her advice on how to prevent TSS.

Her advice was simple, "Just change the tampon every six to eight hours or so and wipe well."

I'm sure those kids will be fine in puberty class, but I am glad I'm done with it.

Or am I . . . ?

I have decided I need a puberty class on the years leading up to menopause. There is some weird hormonal shit happening to my body now that I'm in my 40s, and nobody has offered to teach a class on that.

I take that back. WebMd has a lot to say on the subject, but 50% of the time, it ends in death.

For the latest blog updates, visit and "like" Rebecca Turner-Duggan.

Happy Moments in the Music Room

Happy Moment #1
On Valentine's Day, one of my kindergartners walked into my classroom and announced, “Happy Halloween!”

He paused and looked slightly confused, "I mean, er . . ."

"I know what you mean," I told him.

When I posted this exchange on Facebook that evening, one of my friends commented, "There is a campaign to change Valentine’s Day to Second Halloween."

Another friend said her husband came home that day and asked how everyone’s Thanksgiving was.

"It’s been a long week," she added.

Happy Moment #2
We were playing a music Duck-Duck-Goose-type game in the kindergarten class.

One of the boys was chasing a girl around the circle. It was serious business, his face set in determination. They passed his spot a couple of times. Finally, the girl sat down in her own spot instead of his spot, where she was supposed to end up, and the little boy stood there not quite sure what to do.

It was the strangest version of Duck-Duck-Goose I've ever seen.

Happy Moment #3
I was teaching a new song to my elementary choir. We had learned everything except the end of the piece, and I allowed the choir to keep sight singing until the end. All of a sudden, they sang the final notes correctly, in harmony.

"How did you know to sing it that way?" I asked.

"We were reading the notes," they replied.

Proud. Mama. Moment.

Happy Moment #4
One of the little ones came out of the bathroom in my hall, passed his classmate on the way back to his room, and pointed toward the restroom door, giggling.

I swear he said to his classmate, "It’s fun in there!"

What are they doing in that bathroom anyway?

Happy Moment #5

This is an anecdote from last year, but I felt it was appropriate with St. Patrick's Day around the corner.

We were talking and singing about leprechauns in one of my kindergarten classes.

"You know, it's really hard to catch a leprechaun," I said, "but if you do, you can have his pot of gold."

"Leprechauns are so hard to catch because they are teleporting!"

That was a new one!

For the latest blog updates, visit and "like" Rebecca Turner-Duggan.