You can tell the people who are really super into Instagram by how they display their story highlights on their profile.

Instead of little round thumbnails showing auto-generated images from the videos and photos they’ve shared in their stories, these folks feature brand collateral in the tiny circles: their signature colors and typefaces, custom illustrations, and so on. They’re sending a strong signal that they are devoted to the platform and to thorough branding.

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I thought that I had gotten over so-called “imposter syndrome,” in which a person feels like a fraud, poorly qualified to do the things they’re doing (or want to do).

I remember when I could not — could not — create a website for my music. It felt totally phony to write a third-person bio (“Casey is a singer-songwriter who labors in obscurity…”) and when I went to write a first-person bio instead, I shut down completely. Years later, I felt grateful not to be there anymore. I could now start things and follow through on them. I could do the work that needed to be done (including writing bios) easily and without angst.

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In the wake of the coronavirus, many organizations are moving their services online. My music school is now offering online lessons only, universities and grade schools are pivoting to online classes, and churches and cultural institutions are streaming (or live-streaming) their events.

Some of these organizations are replicating the way classes and events would be held in the physical world, which means that the online version suffers by comparison.

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My friend Rose had an evening seminar-style class that ran for more than two hours.

An entire week’s worth of material, covered in one night.

Rose and her classmates found themselves acting like seventh graders. Despite the fact that they were all professionals with internships or jobs in their career field, they would giggle and get off track, carrying on exactly like teenagers.

They took the material seriously, but couldn’t always engage seriously. One day, however, they showed up and conducted themselves maturely. The difference was so marked that their professor commented on it.

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My niece, a fifth-grader, recently asked me what my students call me. She was surprised when I said that I have them call me by my first name and asked me why.

I did work in a traditional public district for a year, early in my career. I was the music teacher at two public schools, kindergarten through fourth grade. There, I went by Miss McCann, which is my maiden name. The previous teacher was Mrs. Caccavo, so for many of the little kids, my name was Mrs. McCavo. I felt like I had a separate identity — like Clark Kent turning into Superman, Casey turned into Mrs. McSomething.

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