“Oh, thank goodness,” I mumbled to myself, “I got a story!” I haven’t been blogging. I haven’t felt a story lately, not one that makes you smile and feel good (for me). Everything changed 5 minutes ago. I read an email and something caught my eye. I know that symbol. Yet it still took a second to register what I was reading. It took me back…
It started three nights ago. I agreed to share my CUE presentation at the virtual SpringCUE 2020. I’m new to Zoom. I don’t have the buttons and options down. I haven’t embedded my slide presentation into Nearpod in like hmm… maybe never. This was before leaving the brick and mortar for the remote learning era when I agreed to this. And still, I decided to do it. It would be easy to send an email and cancel. Lots of people I know did just that. These are crazy times, but I’m mad like that. I asked my partner if she was interested. I told her about how I want to change my approach. She gave me hints that she would be involved. The day before, I texted her to find out if she was joining me. No response.
To host a meeting in Zoom, you get specific numbers to join a meeting and another number if you’re hosting the meeting. I tried to test my meeting identification number out minutes before to get set up and orientate myself around. You know, before any big presentation, you are an hour early, or at least I am. I learned it doesn’t work that way with zoom when there are so many other presenters back to back. 15 minutes before I was to go on, I still couldn’t get in. I started to go numb. What if I can’t get in and show up to my own presentation? My stomach ached, and my chest grew tight. A panic attack was about to occur. I emailed one of the support staff pleading for help. I wanted to bite my nails right off, but recently I’ve been getting them to grow. That wasn’t an option. Oh, did I mention, my partner never got back to me? I’m on my own. What have I gotten myself into now?
While I tried to log in, I checked my emails. Again, I attempted to log in and checked my emails. I tried and tried. Still, nothing was working. The universe was not lining up in my favor. Now I have 5 minutes left. I write a reply, “Maybe you should cancel this session. I’m feeling so anxious. Yadda, yadda, yadda.”
Before I hit send, in the bottom right corner, I was informed I had a new response. A brief wave of relief came over me until I automatically hit send before I read her response. She said she fixed it. Oh, no! I clicked the link, typed the host number into the box, and away I went. I made it in. Could she cancel the meeting once we’re in, and we would all disappear? I wondered.
In the meantime, she got my email. She didn’t think I was in. She canceled it. However, for myself and the other many participants that barely made in, we conversed over writing possibilities around remote learning for 50 minutes. No one else could join because she deleted it, per my request.
Once this was behind me and I could breath again naturally, I tweeted a big thank you to the CUE Staffer. That symbol is my tweeter profile photo. Today, I noticed they put my tweet in their daily updates. It made me smile. I haven’t felt a story lately, not one that makes you smile and feel good (for me). If it wasn’t for her, I would have missed out on an opportunity to be extremely vulnerable and grateful at the same time. Oh, and if you’re wondering, I heard from my partner, “Oops, sorry, I just saw this text.” It’s okay. I fumbled; I stumble; I even mumble at times, yet I did it.