Written by Amelia Nahum
As a second-year student, I was trudging through my fourth semester of law school, looking forward to the respite that is Spring Break. In the back of my head, I knew that Covid-19 was coming. My brother who was studying abroad in Italy had already been sent back to the United States and was in quarantine, and my boyfriend who is from Italy faced a two-week quarantine before he could start his job in the United States. All of this gave me the feeling that Spring Break was going to be the last time we would have normalcy, but we still had to be cautious. My boyfriend and I went to Cape May, a New Jersey beach where the winter weather had made it a seasonal ghost town. Looking back, being on the beach and eating at a local restaurant with my loved one seems like an unfathomable dream.
One month ago in Cape May, inside a public restaurant, which is prohibited now because of Covid-19.
On Wednesday, March 11, while we were still on break, the students received an e-mail that remote classes would begin on March 16, the day we were supposed to return to school. The first e-mail said that remote learning would extend until April 3. (Writing this on April 6, I can tell you that we are going to go way beyond April 3 before we return to normalcy.) Through the rest of the week, the situation rapidly evolved. We found out that remote classes would extend for the rest of the semester, internships would be remote, and all student activities would be cancelled and not rescheduled.
On Friday, everything suddenly felt incredibly urgent. I drove from Cape May and dropped my boyfriend off at the Philadelphia airport. I stopped in Carlisle, grabbed my cat, spent 15 minutes packing anything I thought I might need in the foreseeable future, and drove three more hours to Pittsburgh. I did not know what I was doing, but I knew I needed to get home. At home, I was reunited with cable television news channels, which made me even more pessimistic than I had been before. This was bad.
Remote classes started on March 16 through the Zoom software. It went well on a technical level but felt strange. Staying engaged in remote classes is difficult, and I felt my motivation for law school slipping as things like talking to my family and getting food and toilet paper seemed much more important. Remote internships also have their own challenges. I miss human interaction at my internship and the camaraderie that comes with working toward a common goal of helping clients. Despite these challenges, I have pressed on, trying to break up the monotony of hours staring at the computer by sewing almost at an unhealthy, obsessive level.
My cat and me attending Energy Law and Policy through Zoom from my childhood bedroom. As you can see from my previous photo, I did not pack enough clothes and have thus been wearing the same sweater for a month.
Soon, the news of how grades would be handled entered our inboxes, and we found out that all grades would be pass/fail rather than on the typical letter-grade scale. I am not sure how I felt about it. I know many students were either relieved or unhappy, but I just wanted to know. Every day feels incredibly uncertain, and any news of a decision is one less thing I have on repeat in my brain when I am trying to fall asleep at night.
Today, on April 6, 2020, things are not better. Sad news surrounds us, and it seems to get sadder as the days go on. More sickness, more death, more strain on resources. My mom’s favorite cooking shows now have a post-apocalyptic vibe as they film on low quality cameras how to make recipes out of dried beans and other gunk in the back of your freezer. I can’t watch TV anymore.
Screenshot of a Zoom Call with friends who I have not talked to in three years but who were all available due to Covid-19 cancelling normal life.
That’s not to say that there are not good things. I am thankful to be home, I am grateful for the time I have had to reflect on my relationships with other human beings, and I am happy that I have more free time due to the cancellation of extra-curricular activities. I have played games with my family, laughed about silly situations that have come with learning how to work remotely, and talked to friends who I have not communicated with in years. Additionally, there are stories every day of the resilience of humans and people coming together for each other.
So, future Dickinson Law faculty and students, I hope this helps you understand one person’s story as a Dickinson Law student living through the Covid-19 Crisis, but I guarantee that everyone’s is different. I look forward to sharing others’ stories as we move forward.