Perspectives on Pandemics
She was thinking about the way she’d always taken for granted that the world had certain people in it, either central to her days or unseen and infrequently thought of. How without any one of these people the world is a subtly but unmistakably altered place, the dial turned just one or two degrees.
—Station Eleven, Emily St. John Mandel
In spring 2020, our dial turned a lot more than one or two degrees. We may or may not have been watching the COVID-19 virus as it spread from Wuhan, Teheran, and Milan, but it arrived here in Michigan with an unceremonious blow. We went from a seemingly normal early March at our school, work, and social lives to shelter-at-home orders with only those closest to us. The people, places, rhythms, and things we’d grown accustomed to in our daily lives vanished almost instantly.
Here in Michigan, Governor Gretchen Whitmer issued the full “Stay Home, Stay Safe” orders for March 24, but Central Michigan University had already told students not to return from spring break for face-to-face classes by March 11. It was clear to everyone—students, faculty, and staff—that this would be a semester like no other we’d experienced.
However, by March 13, a pop-up course on the emerging pandemic, Dr. Marcy Taylor’s brainchild, was in the works. She and I rapidly assembled a crack team of lecturers from every college at Central Michigan University for a four-week, one-credit course within the Critical Engagements initiative. It ran from April 6 until May 3, 2020. Faculty with expertise in biomedicine, economics, education, history, public health, literature, medical anthropology, and public policy offered four weeks of lectures, discussions, readings, and other materials to put COVID-19 and other pandemics in context with world history and culture. And we all did this as we lived (and worked and studied) through an unimaginably challenging period.
Indeed, COVID-19 is the kind of problem that many in the twenty-first century have never confronted. On March 31st, 2020, United Nations Secretary-General António Guterres emphasized that the world is undergoing “the greatest test that we have faced together” since the end of World War II. “A successful response and recovery,” he continued, “will require international cooperation and partnerships at every level -- governments taking action in lock step with communities; private sector engagement to find pathways out of this crisis. Partnerships based on solidarity will be the cornerstone for progress.”
This is just the type of cooperative approach that made this course unique, and unusually important. Equipped with multiple insights into the wicked problem of a global pandemic, students from across the university (including medical students about ready to head out to their residencies) learned how to think and respond more critically and effectively while living through an extraordinary moment. Students wrote reflective response journals as they moved through the weeks’ lectures and readings, all culminating in these final blog entries featured here.
And what they wrote was fascinating and insightful. Some students pondered the role of technology and cultural values; others wondered about their own political stances as the coronavirus challenged core beliefs and practices. Many contemplated the role of misinformation during a pandemic. Students and future teachers wrote about education at all levels in the wake of COVID-19 and in helping to solve pandemics in the future. And doctors heading out to practice clearly were deliberating about their weighty role as public health and preparedness advocates.
We offer them all here for you to read, a sort of microhistory of the novel coronavirus’s impact on Central Michigan University students during the spring 2020 semester. They are snapshots of an ephemeral moment on our campus, providing valuable insights to an indelible period in the history of the world.
*The student entries have been edited for grammar and style, but not content. The College of Liberal Arts and Social Sciences (CLASS) and Critical Engagements (CE) value the power of publishing student writing. However, CLASS and CE make no guarantees about the accuracy or reliability of the information. The views expressed in the blog entries are solely those of the student authors.
Student Blog Posts
Throughout the COVID-19 pandemic, language has been in the forefront of my mind because whenever I discussed current affairs with my significant other, I compare the language of my English-speaking friends to my non-English speaking partner. When discussing the philosopher Wilhelm von Humboldt, Guy Deutscher wrote in his book Through the Language Glass: Why the World Looks Different in Other Languages, “The real differences between languages… are not in what a language is able to express but rather what it encourages and stimulates its speaker to do from its own inner force” (Deutscher, 2010). This quote highlights the value of a theory like that of Linguistic Relativity which follows two notions: 1) language is relative and varies in expression and 2) linguistic expression influences how the speaker conceptualizes the world (Goldstein, 2015). The expression of a culture’s stories influences how someone conceptualizes and experiences an event like COVID-19.
Normal. The natural flow and ebb of days. The routine of life as we know it. Normal is something that humanity craves. For me, normal looked like attending college. Normal was Central’s campus I was lucky enough to call home. It was the structure provided by classes, a part-time job, and meeting up with friends for meals and to spend time together. The importance of normalcy was put on the backburner in March of 2020 with the onset of the coronavirus pandemic. Schools sent students home and workers were encouraged to stay home. From the hustle and bustle of being on campus to Zoom calls in pajamas and trying to keep pets from eating laptop cords, life has changed a lot for me and for the world.
“This illness that Hua was describing was going to be the divide between a before and an after, a line drawn through his life.” That quote from the post-apocalyptic novel Station Eleven burns as I read it. I think about my before’s and my now’s. I don’t know what the after will look like yet.
On a cool spring day eight years ago, I sat at an empty lab table after school completing extra dissections on a preserved cat. I carefully separated the delicate musculature of the cat’s paw, amazed. After learning about excitation-contraction coupling that day I imagined the muscle cells within the cat’s paws stretching and contracting with each step they were designed to take. I trusted the beauty and logic behind the science that made my understanding of this truth possible, and it was at this moment that I seriously considered a career in medicine and surgery. Throughout years of study I recognized the complexity of biology, chemistry and physics. I quickly realized that most of the general public was unfamiliar with the science and concepts that I consider basic. It is therefore understandable that in a time of global medical crisis such as COVID-19, complicated by uncertainty, the public has lost trust in scientists and physicians. The consequence of this is a rabid pandemic affecting a country that has a culture of mitigation rather than prevention.
in a presidential election. I wasn’t old enough in the last one, but being surrounded by all the news it caused encouraged me to prepare for when I could register. I’ve been spending the last couple years becoming more educated on politics, forming my own opinions as unbiased as I could. I especially focused the past couple months on forming my opinions using (supposed) reliable sources on the 2020 candidates, and I thought I was set.
However, COVID-19 changed things. I don’t know if it’s the sudden influx of news I see on my social media timelines about the pandemic or simply because I now have way too much time with literally nothing better to do than to go on social media, but I’ve recently realized that I cannot make informed opinions and decisions based on the first “news” I see each day on Facebook or Twitter, as I’d been inclined to do.
We are living in unprecedented times. Most of us are probably at home trying to make the best of a tough situation, some even have kids and have to stay home and take care of them. As the economy starts to slowly open back up and workers are starting to get back to work, one thing that will continue to remain closed are schools. The schools are said to be kept closed until at least the next school year, but what if the virus does not ease up by then? Will districts decide to remain closed in the fall? The easy answer: only time will tell, but for many adults with kids, they need to know now. People rely on schools as a form of childcare while they are away at work and if schools remain closed, but if workers go back to work, what happens to the children?
Upwards of twenty million Americans are currently enrolled in higher education, and COVID-19 has impacted every single of one of them. But it’s not just the students that have had to withstand this change. In addition to the millions of students, there are millions more that are employed by these institutions. The transition has not been easy on anyone. In a matter of mere days, colleges across the country completely redesigned the way they operate. While the world has experienced pandemics and similar catastrophes in the past, none of them have influenced education like COVID-19 has. This can be largely attributed to the fact that education has undergone significant technological advancements in recent years, giving us the capabilities to facilitate online learning and allowing us to stay connected even when we are apart. But is it enough to maintain the integrity of higher education?
Our COVID-19 pandemic is also a time that can mark a triumph of our best selves. We the people – and our institutions – might be in the midst of a free fall, but hope glimmers as individuals and institutions rise to create safety nets. I see this at the community college where I have worked for most of the twenty-first century.
On March 11, 2020 I boarded a plane from Detroit, MI to Las Vegas, NV shortly after hearing the news that Central Michigan University would be asking students to spend an extra week at home after spring break due to concerns about a COVID-19 outbreak. I couldn’t have been more excited about my “extra-long break” but had no idea what was to come shortly. Today, two months later, I am sitting on my bed in my parent’s house reflecting on the past weeks I’ve spent home. It seems like each day since then, more and more restrictions have been placed and the hope that things will return to normal soon has simmered down to nothing. I finished my second semester of my sophomore year of college online, and did so without my daily 8:00am organic chemistry lectures, weekly student organization meetings, my best friends and roommates, my lab classes, my job, or anything else that makes up the experience that I had while I was on campus.
“Perspectives on Pandemics” was my last course before becoming an MD. I thought it would be a medically focused course, and was surprised to find out it was anything but. I was even more surprised when I realized how important this was to wrap up my four years of medical school.
In 1980, smallpox was officially declared eradicated by the World Health Organization as a result of the smallpox vaccine developed in years prior. It is because of this and the many other vaccines that have helped to protect people against infectious diseases that the United States’ leading causes of death are chronic illnesses, vascular diseases, and cancers, according to Dr. Kyle Harper, a history professor and provost at the University of Oklahoma. Despite these milestones, there are still many who believe vaccines to be unnecessary, and even harmful, in today’s society. I personally experience this in my own household as only yesterday my mother and I engaged in an amiable debate about vaccines where she endlessly tried to convince me that our immune systems alone were enough to combat diseases such as the flu and the newly established coronavirus. These are more than just words, however, as her beliefs built upon questionable stories and unsupported evidence have prevented my siblings from receiving flu vaccines, despite them being mandatory for several classes at school.
I spent the spring semester of my college sophomore year studying in Florence, Italy. I am sure at this point in your life, you are sick of hearing those stories though, so let’s fast forward to exactly a year later when I received the text: “I am so thankful you aren’t in Florence right now,” as a novel virus began to force shut down of the country. That was the moment the COVID-19 pandemic started to feel all too real. This virus was spreading across the globe in what felt like the blink of an eye, but what I didn’t know in that moment was just how quickly it would spread to my own back door. I was ignorant, as was most of the world, as to what was heading our way. During the unraveling of it all, it felt like there was more inaction than any proactive measure (I think that has a lot to do with the leadership of the country at the time, but I am sure your textbooks have told you enough about that). This inaction (underfunded hospitals, lack of PPE etc.) was disheartening to me due to the many warning signs and lessons that should have been taken from other viruses/pandemics such as SARS and the Spanish flu; this was not the world’s first pandemic, but I hope with everything in me that it was/is our last.
“Are we doomed?” asked Dr. Greg Smith, chair of the History Department at Central Michigan University, following the Critical Engagements keynote address for fall 2018. In the address, Dr. Kyle Harper discussed his book, The Fate of Rome: Climate, Disease, and the End of an Empire, in which he examines the catastrophic role that climate change and infectious diseases played in the collapse of Rome’s power. Dr. Smith’s question is a great one considering our country was in a similar prosperous situation before being hit by COVID-19.
At a time when trust in doctors is at its lowest, it is essential to recognize the importance of medical professionals during our current crisis. A web of misinformation has penetrated every layer of society; from you the individual, all the way up to physicians themselves. In these pressing times it is imperative that we have the ability to separate fact from fiction. As I near completion of medical school and prepare to start my career I would like to highlight the levels of deception the public faces during the current pandemic.
According to Merriam-Webster's dictionary, adversity is defined as “a state or instance of serious or continued difficulty.” In the context of COVID-19, we have a physical illness affecting a large number of lives, but even more individuals with novel mental and emotional strains that are overwhelming and difficult for most experiencing them. Though these strains can stem from different places including fear of physical illness, fear of losing economic well-being, isolation, etc., the adversity of the pandemic is a common emotional trauma among everyone. As someone who has struggled with mental illness for my entire life, the pandemic has exacerbated a deep-rooted fear that life can change in an instant. As Dr. Kyle Harper, a historian of the classical world and the Senior Vice President and Provost at the University of Oklahoma, pointed out, it takes a large amount of chance for an event like this to occur. What are the odds that a virus has mutations that allow it to transmit to humans in the exact animal that was going to be consumed by humans at that exact time? One mutation caused the world to drastically change, altering the lives of every single person. The world is vulnerable, and this generates an anxiety in me that is unmatched.
Dr. Ed Simpson, an associate professor in the Department of Journalism at Central Michigan University’s College of the Arts and Media, gave a lecture in which he spoke passionately on the topic of news literacy. For those who are unfamiliar with news literacy, Stony Brook University’s Center for News Literacydefines it as “the ability to use critical thinking skills to judge the reliability and credibility of news reports, whether they come via print, television, or the Internet.” Dr. Simpson’s lecture provided some important tips for fine-tuning one’s news literacy, including verifying the source and any known affiliations, using one's common sense to determine if the information presented makes sense, and questioning the intent behind the information being presented. While these are all valid suggestions, I believe that the ability to implement these skills when interpreting news information is largely limited by one's education level, life experiences, age, and cultural background.
I am a fourth-year medical student, on the cusp of starting residency. I have had a very unusual end to my education. I discovered where my first job as a physician will be while at home with my family instead of at the long-standing tradition of a “Match Day” ceremony. I won’t get a traditional graduation with a cap and gown, proud pictures, diploma handoffs, or quirky cakes. There have been a lot of sacrifices during this final chapter of my education, and I know I’m not the only person facing these disappointments. Yet I try remain grounded because they are a small sacrifice compared to the thousands of lives and livelihoods lost during this pandemic.
Instead of finishing my last course studying obstetrical ultrasound in the hospital, COVID-19 restrictions forced me to choose an online course in order to graduate from medical school: enter Perspectives on Pandemics. I had no idea at the time that the anxieties produced by this course would rival those in my hardest medical school courses.
If medical school is the classroom portion of a driver education course, residency is the practical portion. As a graduating medical student, I have learned the textbook rules of the road, but now I am preparing to start residency, where I will learn how to actually drive a car. It may be nerve-wracking and inefficient at first, but I will improve with time and gradually gain more independence.
At least that is what is supposed to happen. Beginning residency amid the COVID-19 pandemic feels like being given the keys to a race car in the middle of a hurricane. Everything is faster, more dangerous and more stressful than I anticipated, and it feels as if the textbook rules only loosely apply. But, regardless of the state of the pandemic and of my own anxiety, I will enter a new hospital on Wednesday, July 1st as a physician. My job description will include many roles that I prepared for during medical school: caregiver, teacher, researcher, advocate, and team leader.
Long heralded as a “superpower nation”, the United States is a country unlike any other. With its powerful military presence and the world’s largest economy, there is no denying the global influence the U.S. holds. Despite these achievements, the U.S. is not immune to failure, and its Achilles’ heel involves what is most often regarded as a basic human right: healthcare.
On the morning of March 14th, 2020, I woke up to an email from my host teacher for student teaching, asking me if I had seen the announcement that all Michigan schools were closing for at least three weeks in an effort to flatten the curve. A hundred thoughts and feelings washed over me in a matter of seconds, but I knew that I would do whatever it took for my students to learn. We spent the following ten hours running around like mad, trying to make copies of enough work for the students to continue with, making sure all lockers were emptied, and trying to explain to a group of seven-year-olds what was happening, all the while worrying if they were going to be safe and well-fed during this unexpected period of being home with their families.
For some of us, it is difficult to imagine having a total lack of trust in the precautions urged by public health experts. I trust most of the plans that our leaders, guided by public health professionals, have put in place. I find it very frustrating that people are willing to put themselves and their loved ones at risk to regain legal access to restaurants, leisure activities, and ‘traditional’ life. However, the lack of trust in our government is felt by a strong majority of US citizens, and was a problem before anyone had heard of COVID-19.
During the COVID-19 pandemic, human beings all over the world are experiencing losses ranging from things as small as dinner-date plans to things as large as their lives entirely. It seems all of us, especially those of us who are entering a transitionary phase in our lives, are wondering “Who am I, now that so much has changed?” As a 2020 graduate who is pursuing a certification in life coaching later this year, this question leads me to ask myself, “Who do I want to be in the midst of the chaos?” The challenge with answering the latter question is that it seems to require a person to determine what it is that they owe to the rest of the world. At times, it feels as if I should always be listening to the news, reading everything there is to know about viruses, and organizing initiatives to stop the spread of misinformation. However, when I tried doing these things, I noticed they caused a quick burnout of my energy and motivation. The isolation of social distancing and the fear of the changing world seems to be enough to cause many people to lose their minds. This means that the chief task for many has become working to maintain their sanity.
Twenty years after a virus outbreak decimates 99 percent of the world’s population, a symphonic band traveling around Michigan, or what is left of it, spreads their mantra of Survival is Insufficient conveniently painted on the side of their caravan. While this is a fictional scene from the novel Station Eleven, this mantra rings true today. Insufficiency is the same reason why students like me pursue a college education and why society has succeeded to eradicate the deadliest of viruses through vaccines, just to name a few examples. However, we are failing to mitigate the effects of COVID-19 because we have become complacent in applying medicinal advances from previous generations.