Day 1
Not Prepared for Crisis School
As the third week at home with my kids (ages 14, 12, 10, 6 and 4) begins, we collided head-on into the “new normal” we thought we’d readied ourselves for over the prior two.
Two weeks ago was Spring Break – safer-at-home edition.
Last week was spent gathering the technology to crisis teach our children – everyone needs a laptop, connectivity, a learning space that could quickly be sequestered when either parents’ actual work responsibility for popped up.
At 7 am today, we were ready – until, at 9 am, we weren’t.
We were prepared until the systems housing the terabytes of instructional videos, assignments and jolly welcome messages that our teachers feverishly uploaded wouldn’t work. The bandwidth to drive this virtual machine wasn’t ready, either.
We were prepared until the slug-like pace of the technology caused a parade of confused kids to loudly (and emotionally) gather by my side. My kids, like most children of this generation, seem immune to waiting and independent problem solving.
Our customized schedule was honed in, organized and occupied each little one for increments of time that made sense. Yes, each kids’ agenda was prepared, until an hour of reading “seemed like forever” and an advanced middle school math lesson took only ten minutes to complete.
I was not prepared for my oldest kids requiring as much help as my youngest to start assignments and to deal with the curve-balls that technology can throw. Yes, I gave a lesson about how to restart a computer to a 14-year-old (FOR REAL).
Maybe we were prepared, just not ready – not ready to play ringmaster of the circus of ushering a room of kids not accustomed to waiting, sucking it up or lumping it through a day where technology was sketchy, distractions were plentiful and ALL nerves are frayed.
I’m preparing for a better day tomorrow fully knowing that I’m not ready for it to begin just yet.
Finding the Funny
As we maneuver through the gravity of the COVID-19 virus, I can’t help but opine about the opportunities the awful pandemic is providing us to smile, laugh and reflect, like:
Never before has it been socially acceptable to ask others (at a distance of greater than 6 feet or over the phone) about their toilet paper supply, household strategy or personal guidelines for appropriate use.
If you’re asking me – my family is good for another week, we have a pending order for deliver of Amazon T.P. in two weeks, and are encouraging the kids to use less or risk a future of forefathers style hand-wiping.
Anytime there is an opportunity to talk about the utility of toilet paper socially, covet it.
Parting Perspective
Cabin fever is real. I feel it. My kids do, too. All of us are getting antsy and, rest assured, we’ll be shut in for awhile longer. I’m attempting to make feeling well and trapped at home a privilege.
When I yearn for a return to the non-pandemic world, I remind myself of how much I complain about being over committed with my kids – with soccer, with dance, gymnastics and teacher conferences. I try to remember that, during March, my wife and I spent every weekend at separate kid activities.
I’m trying to enjoy the family dinners that we’re able to have – even if that thirty minutes is spent arbitrating sibling bickering about how much milk was poured from a gallon that I may have risked my life to secure.
A privilege – keep telling yourself that.
Stay safe.
Stay well.
Parent on.
More to come.
