This is not quite homeschooling, because homeschooling, while challenging, does have a million perks. I loved creating a mesh of weekly plans, shopping for curriculums, and adding my own touch of field trips for practical application of our studies. I loved the fluidity of it, the ability to change it in response to the needs of my children.
This ain’t it.
It’s also not really public schooling, because normally there’s friends and field trips, concerts and school dances, there’s sports! But this…is either online or mostly online.
It’s frustrating to everyone. Teachers. Parents. Students.
Our school has had two zoom hacks since it started. They’ve started an investigation, of course. We’re definitely not the only ones, either.
The online world can be a dangerous one and parents should be aware of the dangers and discuss them their children. This is an entirely different set up for kids and their parents. Especially those who need to work out of the home AND work remotely. This divided attention means more work for parents (and, statistically, mothers).
It also means more work for teachers. For teachers that are also parents, the extra work (paid and unseen) is unreal. Teachers have to adapt to a new style of teaching, have to be IT support, have to deal with frustrated students and parents, have to adapt curriculum, grade it all, organize it all, and still balance their own home lives, and, and, and.
I have to thank our country’s teachers, because they’re doing this while some of the public is angry they have it “easy” working remotely. They’re doing this while funding continues to decrease. They’re doing this being caught in political fire.
I don’t think any of us were prepared for a school year of this when we were told to take two weeks “off.” But I’m so grateful for all the dedicated teachers that are showing up for our children, even while being criticized.
It’s about twenty minutes to 8 o’clock. I’ve slept about 6 hours last night, not necessarily in a row, and I’m already craving a second cup of strong coffee. I’m not sure it’ll make a dent in the fatigue I’m carrying, but it’s worth a shot.
Right now I’m working remotely. Right now my children are learning remotely. Help.
The toddlers have been shuttled off to daycare by their father. (Breakfast, diapers, potty, teeth, clothes, where are her shoes??, wait is this yours, don’t forget the check for our sitter, bye, kiss, kiss, hug, bye.) My oldest two, the teen and almost teen have been forced into the shower (just barely) and are now scrunched up behind their personal school tablets, working some Google docs (I hope) until their first Zoom meeting of the morning. My own work day starts at 9 am and I’m pretty sure my own Zoom meetings cross over school Zoom meetings. Which means I’ll have to disable video and microphone periodically to run out and fix technical glitches on the kids’ computers. I’m sure my job is thrilled. But they probably don’t mind too much as I make up for lost work by starting my day earlier than ever and ending later than ever.
Article after article after article explains how difficult this juggling is and how it impacts the careers of working moms. The literature seems to go on forever about it. Ultimately, it boils down to the sexism that exists within both parenting, relationships, and the workforce.
Complain about having to juggle everything and you’re told that it is what it is. You chose to have children and now you have to deal with having children. It’s a little infuriating.
Also, even if the response of, “Well, you wanted to have children…now you have to parent…” wasn’t soaked in sexism and judgement, I don’t know anyone who imagined this scenario. Raise of hands to show who dreamed of orchestrating a bastardized version of “homeschool” via public school during a mismanaged pandemic, while also handling everything else. Yeah, me neither.
“You’re not the only one struggling.”
“Some people are worse off.”
Also just as insulting a response. Clearly we’re all struggling. Obviously everyone’s situation is different. But other people’s struggles do not diminish the very real physical, mental, and emotional impact the current state of affairs has on parents, and especially mothers. There is no Personal Problems Olympics where people compete and the winner gets to take home the prize of Guilt-free Venting.
Throughout my years as a mother who has mostly worked out of the home, I’ve been told (especially by other mothers), “I don’t know how you do it! You make it seem so easy! You’re always so calm and collected.”
It kind of feels like being complimented on how strong of a swimmer I am while barely treading water or borderline drowning.
The truth is, and I try to explain this every time, that I’m as overwhelmed as any other mother. I don’t do anything more or less than other people in my same situation. And I also don’t know where the requirement of being the perfect picture of calm and control came from. Why is that part of the Mom’s Code of Conduct? Can leadership get together and strike through that part?
Maybe we should also stop judging ourselves so harshly. Most of the time when we see a mom who seems to have it all together, we covet her grace and multi-tasking abilities. At least, that’s what it seems like to me when people compliment my mothering. And, frankly, that’s what it is like when I see women I wish I could model myself after.
And after all that, when I pay them the same compliments, they tend to respond the way I do sometimes. “Girl, I am a mess. But thank you. I’m trying.”
And that’s it in a nutshell, isn’t it? We’re all trying. We all need help. And there’s some weird unspoken rule that we’re supposed to look like we got it.
Mothering is labeled “team lift” but someone taped over it.