Well, hello, homeschool. Hoped I’d never see you again, but here you are, butting into my spring plans.
I think it’s sort of odd how reassuring the kindly ones are trying to be, urging us all to cozy up and drink in the satisfaction that comes with staying home with small children. Don’t sniff and call me insensitive–I love kids. I mean, I love kids. And believe it or not, I know exactly how to get cozy when necessary. I know how to read in a goofy voice, I know how to belt out Elsa songs at the top of my lungs and dance in my socks, I know how to bake bread and plant seeds with busy little hands. It’s my favorite pasttime.
But I also know that homeschool is not public school, nor is it an easy transition. Beyond that, most of us public schoolers haven’t been given free reign on the curriculum. Our schools, in fact are insisting on following regular, mandatory lesson plans. This makes relaxing difficult, with deadlines and technology and a looming sense of doom (thanks again, CNN).
Did I mention I love children? I really do. In fact, I like to think I have the gifts of patience and kindness, a special understanding and compassion for kids. A lot of people don’t. Many young parents these days struggle a lot more than me in the keeping-our-junk-together arena, and I’m not just about potentially getting laid off, finding childcare, putting food on the table, and washing of hands.
What I’m trying to say is this: nothing is harder than raising kids. Right now, parents are being asked to do more “raising” than they ever have. No childcare options. Safe, reliable academic spaces have been closed for the season. We are beyond preaching on responsible parenting–if folks haven’t figured out how to put their cellphones down by now and pay attention to the needs of their kids, it is too late.
Advising moms and dads who already know how to love their kids, are well-practiced with homework routines, can foresee a train wreck and calmly prescribe popcorn and some Netflix on the couch? Please. Please. Save your prayers for someone who needs them.
The families who could truly use help are not going to walk away from an encouraging Facebook post, chin held high, ready to conquer online learning with a suddenly cooperative kid. Children who have been suckling an iPad from the age of six months are not going to willingly to school from the kitchen table. Mothers who have depended on full-time childcare are not going to cuddle their babies on the couch because they are relieved they have lost their daily income. Latchkey kids are not going to suddenly forgo hours of video games in favor of Google classroom.
And then, if you will, consider the teachers. Teachers who love their students, teachers who know which students could use a Friday food backpack to get through the weekend. Teachers with students who live in cars parked down by the city trail. Teachers who, day in and day out, serve kids with reading struggles, autism, and physical needs. They must stay vigilant, ever aware (thanks to Google classroom and other apps) of the kids who won’t read a single page over this four to eight week remote learning experiment.
Did I mention people might get sick?
This is a stress wrecking ball. Please don’t water it down to something as simple as enjoy your kids even if most of us will–hopefully.
We are moms and dads. We are teachers. We can do school at home because we love our kids. We can learn to love them better. And we can even do what is harder. It’s not too late, and now is as good of a time to start as any.
It has always helped me to get through a hard time by doing two things: Naming what I am thankful for, and challenging myself to prove what I’m made of.
Today I am thankful for a neighbor who brought me milk after GK busted our last jug all over her princess dress and the kitchen floor. I’m thankful for the internet and teachers who check in on me and the boys. I’m thankful for a curriculum that I never had to cobble together myself; I’m thankful for deadlines. My husband’s job that is still paying him. Food in my freezer. Peanut butter. Music. A new moleskin notebook from a friend, plus three black pens. Six reams of printing paper for drawing. Seventy degrees and sunshine. A kite.
I’m challenging myself by eliminating things that distract me. I’ve been weeding out social media for some time now, and after reading a couple books (Digital Minimalism, Cal Newport, and Faith for Exiles, David Kinnaman), I think I’m ready to nix it all. The last time I homeschooled, I wrote a book in the evenings (you could read it in isolation!). Not because I wasn’t tired, but because I needed an outlet. I needed something to separate my feeling of going insane so that I didn’t lose my mind. White space–that’s what I was making. A zone of protection.
I’m going to try to not fall asleep during Last Jedi, even though I don’t give a rip. I’m going to pay attention so the kids think I actually understand the storyline even though I don’t.
I thought I’d get a cartoon going in order to maintain sanity and encourage my cartoon-loving kids to put their dang books down and start drawing. I will be posting them here for fun, not because I’m an especially great artist.
I honestly hope they call off school–like, all of it–and make this an early summer where we will return in July or some semblance of an early fall school year. I’m not sure I have what it takes to homeschool/online school/public-school-at-home-with-my kids. Let’s be real–I’m sure most of us don’t.
Until then, what are you thankful for? Keep the list going.
What are you made of? (Share your challenge, maybe I’ll add it to my list, too!)
