There was certainly much about the hurried switch from in-person to online teaching and learning in the early months of the COVID-19 pandemic that inspired angst. The decisions that many colleges and universities made to halt on-campus activities and deconcentrate their communities left scores of us scrambling to pack up some of the things we hoped would help us withstand a few weeks away from our offices and classrooms. When I think back on those frenzied days, I often chuckle at how naive I was about the extent to which the pandemic would radically upend our lives, forcing us to rethink every aspect of our ways of being in the world. I was in the middle of leading a discussion on The Tempest in my dramaturgy course when the official word came down from university administrators that all classes would move online and most students would have to vacate their residence halls. A palpable feeling of dread quickly swept over the stuffy classroom. Students began to weep and to wonder out loud what the news would mean for, say, their senior thesis projects or the department's futuristic mounting of The Tempest, which would have to shutter before its second weekend of scheduled performances. I tried my best to remain optimistic, even as I too began to question what the fast-moving changes would mean for how we would finish out the semester. I felt a special call to offer comfort, reaffirming my commitment to supporting students no matter what was ahead.

中文翻译：

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恩典是一种实践

在 COVID-19 大流行的最初几个月里，从面对面教学到在线教学的匆忙转变无疑有很多原因，这激发了人们的焦虑。许多学院和大学做出的停止校园活动和分散他们的社区的决定让我们许多人争先恐后地收拾一些我们希望能帮助我们承受几周远离办公室和教室的东西。当我回想起那些疯狂的日子时，我常常嘲笑我是多么天真地认为这种流行病会从根本上颠覆我们的生活，迫使我们重新思考我们在这个世界上存在方式的方方面面。我正在主持一个关于暴风雨在我的戏剧课程中，当大学管理人员发布官方消息时，所有课程都将转移到网上，大多数学生将不得不腾出宿舍。一股明显的恐惧感迅速席卷了闷热的教室。学生们开始哭泣，并大声想知道这个消息对他们的毕业论文项目或部门未来派的安装意味着什么暴风雨，它必须在预定表演的第二个周末之前关闭。我尽力保持乐观，即使我也开始质疑快速变化的变化对我们如何完成这个学期意味着什么。我感到有一种特殊的呼唤来提供安慰，重申我对支持学生的承诺，无论未来发生什么。