Day 3
All Parents Suck at Home Schooling
Far too many parents dot my social media accounts beating themselves up over their handling of educating their kids during the crisis. There seem to be a few common themes:
-“My kid’s schedule isn’t working.”
-“We’re done with school after only a few hours.”
-“Time spent at recess exceeds my kids’ learning time.”
-“I’m popping the bottle at 3 pm, I’ve had it by then.”
I hear you.
I feel you completely, failing on a daily basis as five kids scramble to adjust to a new way of learning in my house. I’m fed up with kids asking for help constantly, interrupting my work and bickering about the legitimacy of each of their hour of reading. I may have bought more Sangria bottles than dozens of eggs on my last essential trip to the grocery store.
If there is ever a time to give yourself a parenting pass with your kids’ education it is now.
Grades will be meaningless.
Safety of your kids is the only goal.
A locked-in schedule is a suggestion and not a demanded, military-like regimen.
Until further notice, assume that we all suck at this – not just you.
Finding the Funny
Let’s talk about wearing gloves as a first line of defense in staving off the virus. I’m not wearing any, but I’m seeing plenty of community members that are, like:
The lady at the store with a pair of previously off-white (I think) winter gloves who removed them to pull a twenty from her wallet and to collect her change, hand-to-hand from the glove-less employee.
Hmm.
I noticed an older gentlemen at the store, in blue latex gloves, was in charge of spraying each grocery cart with disinfectant. Unfortunately, he would grab each incoming cart before wiping them with the same tattered rag of cleaning solution.
Clean?
A well meaning lady, standing a safe distance away, remarking that, “these dollar store rubber gloves are so thin I can feel my sneeze soaking through them.”
Gross.
Parting Perspective
There is a part of this “social distancing” that makes being in public a game of avoiding each other – trying not to look at each other, to meet eyes only in an attempt at assuring each other that we’ll remain at a safe distance away, or try to convey energy to loved ones through stale Zoom meet-ups. This undercover existence can really get you down.
During times like this – when we’re encouraged to be appropriately frightened of each other – a smile can go a long way.
If you have to go to buy milk, smile at the cashier despite the Plexiglas partition.
Find an internal chuckle at the lady wearing the mangy, old gloves to protect herself. She’s going her best.
Don’t let the “this is an overblown, fake news fueled hoax” guy allow you to doubt the ingenuity of America to pull through. He’s the obnoxious minority.
Smile through it.
I’m trying (and failing), too.
Be confident for your kids.
Parent on.
More to come.
