Quarantine lent us a lot of family time, and we watched a lot of movies together. One of our favorites (although it is rated PG-13), is Instant Family. Owen has a great knack for voices and can imitate almost to a T the scene at the end of the movie where Joan Cusack’s character emerges from her house and asks, “um, what the hell is going on here?” in a high pitched, concerned voice. And coincidentally, I can’t think of a better way to sum up our first week of remote learning.
We’re not made for this. Not the parents, not the teachers, and especially not the kids.
Kindergarten should be new and fun and exciting. But let’s face it, without a school, new friends, the cafeteria, or even a teacher with a visible lower body - the magic disappears. She’s pleading I’m tiiiired - glued to a screen we’ve always insisted is terrible, struggling to sit still and watch videos for the better part of the day... girl I’m tired too. So let’s bust a move tracing those freaking Cs so we can finish phonics for the day. Because oh by the way it’s 10:45 and we still have 75% of your lessons to complete.
I have two boys who typically love school, but they miss their friends. There’s much to be learned at school that has nothing to do with the math, English, or social studies lessons being taught through the computer. Not to say there’s not some things to be gained from this adversity. Surely there are plenty of things to be taught in this new normal as well. But it’s just not as fun. It’s much more of a chore, and thus leads to much more resistance and frustration. Change is hard. Remote school is hard. And it’s hard to convince children to do hard things.
Thankfully, I’m not trying to work from home while simultaneously running 3 different classrooms and keeping a toddler occupied. I can’t even fathom how that’s possible. Kudos to any and all that have survived any number of days, hell, hours, in that situation. I’ve managed only to wash the dishes and start the same load of laundry two consecutive mornings. Ok, if I’m being honest the laundry thing isn’t all that unusual - but you get the point. There truly is little time for anything else. It seems as if as soon as I get someone going with one zoom call, I’m headed to the other room to be sure videos are paused long enough for letters to be traced and numbers to be counted. And then back again. Making sure prep work is complete before the next call, and assignments are finished and turned in correctly. Yesterday I took no less than 7 videos of Aubrey sharing her “about me heart” to get one where she wasn’t laughing at herself after 2 seconds, asking me a question, punching her paper, or simply one without her sister’s foot at the bottom of the screen, only to realize the video had to be recorded inside the app and starting all over. And sure, my kids could probably be more independent - but this is all new to them too. The least I can do is try to help them navigate it all and make sure they’re not turning off the WiFi instead of adjusting the volume. You’ll quickly drop a Zoom call when that happens, FYI.
And I know they’re important, and some kids really require the outlet - I know this. And yes, they’re probably intended to give the kids a much needed break and interject some more fun into learning at home - but can we give specials a rest for a hot second? Like maybe we can just call those F’s that look more like broken trees art and call it a day? I mean we’re using colored pencils and drawing our family, even presenting it on video (even if it did take 30 minutes of not so polite coercion) - pretty sure that counts as theatre arts. Maybe let the kids mop the floor and check the PE box? I’ve got a 10 year old quietly winding down to some kid friendly rap at the end of the day - check. Because Lord help me if that recorder sees the light of day in this house.
Yesterday we had 6 different live calls to juggle. While making sure Owen’s new headphones were working at the start of his 9:30 reading zoom, Aubrey entered the background SHIRTLESS with stickers on her NIPPLES. Yeah, she joined his zoom in makeshift boobie tassels. Fan.freaking.tastic. I can only pray she was standing directly behind him and thus not visible in the webcam. I didn’t dare look back while I was yelling at her through clenched teeth to, get the heck out of here! That is completely inappropriate! OH.MY.GOD.
Day 3 saw no less than 4 sets of tears (for those keeping track, that would be all of us). And after a round of apologies for not always using my indoor voice, the kids retreated to grandmas to celebrate the end of the school year - I mean week. Now l want to be clear: I fully understand these are unprecedented times and we’re all trying to work together to make the most of a near impossible environment. I love our schools and our teachers, and I know they are amazing and facing their own struggles as well. I know we’ll get the hang of it. Learning curves are a part of life. But my sentiment remains: we are not made for this. You can’t take away the struggle any easier than you can rewind an unfortunate cameo in a zoom call. But we’ll make it. One day at a time. And because Target sells both headphones and wine - a virtual cheers to us all. To the teachers, parents, and kids - we’re all just doing our best. And as my good friend likes to say: your best is always good enough.