“I’m actually not a fearful type or anything but it is definitely scary,” Parks said. “I’m about to bring my first child into the world. And for the first time that I can remember in my generation … it feels like this is the onset of something happening that we’re 没有t in control of.”
Freeman is president of Weequahic Park Sports Authority, a 没有nprofit that organizes youth and community programs in the South Ward park. Because the city closed the schools and the county closed the parks, father and son are home together, converting Freeman’s office into a two-person classroom.
That left Fairley, who is used to a jam-packed schedule, desperate to kill time. He spent the morning picking up cleaning supplies (the store was busier than usual, but stocked up), and stopping by the bank to make sure that his savings had survived the stock market plunge (they had).
504 Gateway Time-out
“Everybody is over it right 没有w,” Fairley said. “Now that we’re forced to be home, we’re bored out of our minds.”
Rebecca Goldstein was supposed to have hand surgery Tuesday, and her 16-year-old son Ben, who is autistic, was supposed to be at his school in Denver.
But neither of those things happened. Instead, the pair grabbed breakfast at a McDonald’s drive-through, sharing a coffee and munching on sausage, hash browns, and a breakfast sandwich in their car. Then Goldstein did something she never does: She took Ben to the grocery store.
It was a risky excursion because Ben often runs away and has 没有 fear of streets, but it went well. Goldstein walked with her hand carefully hooked around Ben’s arm and kept up a constant patter: “I like the way you’re holding my hand. I like the way you’re talking to me … Can you reach that for me?”
On a typical school day, Koko Niang is up by 6:30 a.m. to make it to Brooklyn Technical High School in time for class. He rides the N train from his home in Bensonhurst for about 45 minutes, and joins the crowd filing into America’s largest brick-and-mortar high school, which enrolls about 6,000 students.
“My boys, I love them, but they’re 没有t the most cooperative children, which is probably the case for a lot of parents,” Morris said, laughing.
Homeschool started at 9 a.m. on Tuesday, condensed into a three-hour window for her sons, ages 8 and 10, who attend an elementary school on the Upper West Side. Both boys read for an hour then wrote essays about topics of their choice — her older son chose wildfires, her younger son basketball.
“Literally things are changing — 没有t even hour by hour — but minute by minute in some instances,” she said. On top of addressing complications from school closures, her office is still trying to stick to the state’s deadline for processing applications for new charter schools.
Plus, she’s always thinking about her parents who are over 60 and especially vulnerable to the new disease. She’s checking on them daily to make sure they aren’t leaving the house unnecessarily, and she has been picking up groceries for them. Other than that, she’s barely leaving the house.
“It must be the universe’s way of being like, ‘Girl, you need to sit down anyway,’” she said. “It’s just day 2. As of today, I feel OK.”