Maples. Rubbing it in. “We’re going away!” Right in front of me, literally, the tree under which I parked today.
Which is the real story here. I went into the office a bit late today because I knew I’d be on campus until about 7:30 — which wound up being actually 8 or so. And even despite rolling onto campus in the middle of the day I parked right next to the building.
You can’t legally park any closer to our building than I did today, just before noon. That’s how many people aren’t on campus right now.
Our building has classes, but only the smaller ones. Anything over 50 students is automatically online. Faculty were able to decided, in a dizzying and disjointed system, whether they would teach in-person or online. One week, faculty could decide. The next, they couldn’t. It was all a part of a summer spent finding our sea legs. There was also a hybridized model, with rotating students on various days of the week and that seemed like it would have too many moving parts for anyone to keep straight. Ultimately, though, whatever got decided at an individual level, or got decided for them from above, has led to a quiet building so far.
With most classes apparently taking place on line, that means few students and very, very few faculty in the building. About 90 percent of the staff is working from home. And that means that, because I have to go in, I can get a parking spot right up front.
Just means I didn’t have to walk too far to my car at the end of the evening after a practice session in the television studio.
Except, after watching some practice shows get produced in anticipation of next week’s season premier episodes from the new news team, I walked to the parking deck. I hadn’t parked in the deck, but right beside that maple tree. It took me a block to realize it, and a block to walk back.
Which, for a Tuesday, isn’t the worst setback.
I’m more disappointed in the maple tree. If you see me out there sometime later this week, staring it down with a look of disappointment on my face, you’ll know why.
