How a College Final Became a Lesson in Survival

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/03/28/books/review/daniel-mason-stanford-photography-coronavirus.html

Version 10 of 24.

Back in January, at Stanford University, where I teach and practice psychiatry, I showed my students a slide of an oak tree from the edge of campus.

At first the photo seemed out of place. The course, “PSYC82: The Literature of Psychosis,” is about the portrayal of psychosis in memoir and fiction, art and film; the lecture that day was a survey of psychiatric history. But there is growing evidence linking green space to mental well-being, and I have become increasingly concerned for my students, who, studies show, are experiencing depression and anxiety at record rates. I wanted them to get outside. The winter had been mild, a new round of rains had just passed through, and the woods were beautiful.

In the three years I have taught this course, this was the first time I thought to show such photos. But as the quarter progressed, I found myself returning to images I had collected over weekend walks. Photos of bay laurels from the Stanford hills, of turkey tail fungi fanning over mossy logs, of gleaming slime molds and iridescent ferns.

They served, at first, as a respite from some of the dense and difficult narratives we were reading, as well as from the darkening mood and news from the world outside our classroom. But as time went on, the students found connections between these images of nature and the stories in our class: the birds that call to Septimus Smith in “Mrs. Dalloway,” the “happy hollow of a tree” that shelters Edgar-as-Tom in “King Lear,” even the flight into the Californian foothills in the science fiction classic “Invasion of the Body Snatchers.” And they pointed out the importance of nature for the confined narrator of Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s classic short story “The Yellow Wallpaper,” or the current reality of hundreds of thousands of people with severe mental illness locked up in penal institutions far away from any green.

As the narrator of Georg Büchner’s 1839 novella “Lenz” declares, “If I couldn’t get out on to a mountain occasionally and see the landscape all around, then come back home and walk through the garden and look inside through the window — I’d go mad! mad!”

We were reading Lu Xun’s “Diary of a Madman” when the first case of Covid-19 was reported in Washington State, Philip K. Dick’s “Ubik” when the first case of community transmission was reported in California. On March 2, with nine cases reported in Santa Clara County, I began to record lectures on “King Lear,” so students could watch from their dorm rooms. We had made it to Edgar’s soliloquy when face-to-face classes were canceled. Onto Zoom we went; I gave my final lecture in the silence of my living room.

Class, it seemed, was over. Students began to leave, first on their own, then on the university’s order. There remained only the matter of the exams. Almost immediately people began to whisper of the possibility that winter finals would be canceled. I hesitated. However trivial a final may seem in the context of world events, canceling one means far more than canceling a test. A final exam is more than just part of the key struggle to retain some kind of normality in the face of chaos. A final represents an opportunity to synthesize knowledge, to bring together readings and concepts from across the term. If one believes in the significance of one’s material, then this synthesis is a critical moment of a course.

And so first I made the examination optional, then open book; the date of the exam was postponed twice. It was hard not to feel that I was negotiating with the growing epidemic. And then, as student after student emailed, describing challenges returning home, I realized it was time to admit defeat.

As I wrote my letter to my students explaining the cancellation, I paused. It’s a large class, and during the week’s upheaval, I wondered where they had gone: the students who came laughing into class together, or sat quietly in back; who shared stories of their own struggles with mental illness; who turned in recorded songs for their assignments; who introduced me to books I had never read. So instead of ending class altogether, I gave them one last assignment: Go outside and take a photo of the natural world we had talked about so often, and share it with others in the class.

That night, after the Zoom meetings, the spring course prep, the planning updates from the hospital and the brief moments stolen outside, I logged on to our course website. So chaotic have the days become that I had almost forgotten the new assignment. But as the sun set outside my window, I saw the screen of the computer light up with photos from across the world.

Updated June 30, 2020

Common symptoms include fever, a dry cough, fatigue and difficulty breathing or shortness of breath. Some of these symptoms overlap with those of the flu, making detection difficult, but runny noses and stuffy sinuses are less common. The C.D.C. has also added chills, muscle pain, sore throat, headache and a new loss of the sense of taste or smell as symptoms to look out for. Most people fall ill five to seven days after exposure, but symptoms may appear in as few as two days or as many as 14 days.

Scientists around the country have tried to identify everyday materials that do a good job of filtering microscopic particles. In recent tests, HEPA furnace filters scored high, as did vacuum cleaner bags, fabric similar to flannel pajamas and those of 600-count pillowcases. Other materials tested included layered coffee filters and scarves and bandannas. These scored lower, but still captured a small percentage of particles.

A commentary published this month on the website of the British Journal of Sports Medicine points out that covering your face during exercise “comes with issues of potential breathing restriction and discomfort” and requires “balancing benefits versus possible adverse events.” Masks do alter exercise, says Cedric X. Bryant, the president and chief science officer of the American Council on Exercise, a nonprofit organization that funds exercise research and certifies fitness professionals. “In my personal experience,” he says, “heart rates are higher at the same relative intensity when you wear a mask.” Some people also could experience lightheadedness during familiar workouts while masked, says Len Kravitz, a professor of exercise science at the University of New Mexico.

The steroid, dexamethasone, is the first treatment shown to reduce mortality in severely ill patients, according to scientists in Britain. The drug appears to reduce inflammation caused by the immune system, protecting the tissues. In the study, dexamethasone reduced deaths of patients on ventilators by one-third, and deaths of patients on oxygen by one-fifth.

The coronavirus emergency relief package gives many American workers paid leave if they need to take time off because of the virus. It gives qualified workers two weeks of paid sick leave if they are ill, quarantined or seeking diagnosis or preventive care for coronavirus, or if they are caring for sick family members. It gives 12 weeks of paid leave to people caring for children whose schools are closed or whose child care provider is unavailable because of the coronavirus. It is the first time the United States has had widespread federally mandated paid leave, and includes people who don’t typically get such benefits, like part-time and gig economy workers. But the measure excludes at least half of private-sector workers, including those at the country’s largest employers, and gives small employers significant leeway to deny leave.

So far, the evidence seems to show it does. A widely cited paper published in April suggests that people are most infectious about two days before the onset of coronavirus symptoms and estimated that 44 percent of new infections were a result of transmission from people who were not yet showing symptoms. Recently, a top expert at the World Health Organization stated that transmission of the coronavirus by people who did not have symptoms was “very rare,” but she later walked back that statement.

Touching contaminated objects and then infecting ourselves with the germs is not typically how the virus spreads. But it can happen. A number of studies of flu, rhinovirus, coronavirus and other microbes have shown that respiratory illnesses, including the new coronavirus, can spread by touching contaminated surfaces, particularly in places like day care centers, offices and hospitals. But a long chain of events has to happen for the disease to spread that way. The best way to protect yourself from coronavirus — whether it’s surface transmission or close human contact — is still social distancing, washing your hands, not touching your face and wearing masks.

A study by European scientists is the first to document a strong statistical link between genetic variations and Covid-19, the illness caused by the coronavirus. Having Type A blood was linked to a 50 percent increase in the likelihood that a patient would need to get oxygen or to go on a ventilator, according to the new study.

The unemployment rate fell to 13.3 percent in May, the Labor Department said on June 5, an unexpected improvement in the nation’s job market as hiring rebounded faster than economists expected. Economists had forecast the unemployment rate to increase to as much as 20 percent, after it hit 14.7 percent in April, which was the highest since the government began keeping official statistics after World War II. But the unemployment rate dipped instead, with employers adding 2.5 million jobs, after more than 20 million jobs were lost in April.

If air travel is unavoidable, there are some steps you can take to protect yourself. Most important: Wash your hands often, and stop touching your face. If possible, choose a window seat. A study from Emory University found that during flu season, the safest place to sit on a plane is by a window, as people sitting in window seats had less contact with potentially sick people. Disinfect hard surfaces. When you get to your seat and your hands are clean, use disinfecting wipes to clean the hard surfaces at your seat like the head and arm rest, the seatbelt buckle, the remote, screen, seat back pocket and the tray table. If the seat is hard and nonporous or leather or pleather, you can wipe that down, too. (Using wipes on upholstered seats could lead to a wet seat and spreading of germs rather than killing them.)

If you’ve been exposed to the coronavirus or think you have, and have a fever or symptoms like a cough or difficulty breathing, call a doctor. They should give you advice on whether you should be tested, how to get tested, and how to seek medical treatment without potentially infecting or exposing others.

There was a waterfall from the hills of Georgia; a pasture in Venus, Texas; budding magnolias in New Jersey. A student in Nome, Alaska, posted a bare cottonwood covered with snow. An Australian student shared a gum tree blooming after the wildfires there. There were sunrises in California and roadside mushrooms. Snow-filled woods and fruiting lemons. A standoff between a dog and lizard on a bright green lawn. A southern stingray from the Gulf of Mexico. Fritillaries, songbirds. A Carolina swamp. And the same sky in Ohio and Delaware as out the window of my room.

Of course, access to green space is one of the many inequalities increasingly exposed by this epidemic, and it is possible, in my students’ photos, to see that some, whether because of geography or illness or some other reason, could not go far. In Northern California, we are fortunate to be in the midst of one of the most beautiful springs in recent memory. The streets are quiet, and the air so clear that you can see the mountaintop observatories across the bay. Many people do not have this recourse; later this summer, if the foretold fires come, we may not either.

Over the next few days, the photos continued to flow in, nearly 100, from the Central Valley, Hawaii and Indonesia. There were familiar campus ginkgoes, cedars in Brooklyn, polypore mushrooms climbing a tree in Utah. The assignment was called — because on the spur of the moment I couldn’t think of anything else — “The World Around Us.” And that was what the students had built.

The deadline was Friday; as I write this, the most recent photo to arrive was of a Muscovy duck swimming in Pastoral Pond Park, Montgomery County, Texas. At the end of the day, this is more than an exercise in finding connection during a time of struggle. As many have noted, the causes and effects of this virus are intimately related to the health of the natural world. Zoonotic diseases like Covid-19 may be linked to increasing deforestation and the sale of wild animals. Lungs and hearts damaged by atmospheric pollution are more susceptible to severe illness. And the woods and outdoor spaces are providing respite for the millions of people who can no longer go to school or work.

It is worth remembering, as this story unfolds, that we are being sustained not only by the neighbors who bring groceries, and the teachers who learn how to manage a classroom of rowdy kindergartners on Zoom, and the doctors and nurses and hospital staff who are risking their lives for a country that can’t, or won’t, supply them with enough protective equipment, but also by the oaks and fritillaries, the gardens and copses of cottonwoods that are so critical to both our physical and mental well-being.