Turns Out, I Suck at This

Let me start off by stating my applicable experience for the record. I hold several teaching credentials including mild/moderate special education, multiple subjects (elementary school), and a single subject in English. I have worked with children with problematic behaviors that could make the skin crawl right off the bone. I am even genetically predisposed to teaching, since both my parents spent time in the classroom. Pre-kids, I’d pride myself on my zen-like level of patience. Once, I had my first daughter, I transitioned into a full time stay-at-home mom.

If anyone should be the poster-mom for homeschooling, it should be me.

But I’m failing at it.

Miserably.

I’ll back up a bit.

Charlotte’s teacher has all the dreamy kindergarten qualities parents pray for in an educator. She is loving, nurturing, and caters to each child’s snowflake-like uniqueness. When I learned Charlotte would not be finishing out her kindergarten year in her color-coded classroom utopia, I cried big ugly tears. I lamented the loss of the place that began her love of learning and fostered genuine friendships. I know she will eventually go back to school, but my heart ached for memories unmade.

The ask of teachers to shift their entire curriculum online in less than a month was monumental. But unsurprisingly, those with the biggest hearts and smallest paychecks, rose to the challenge. On paper, our teachers have set us parents up for success.

My preschooler lasted exactly 1 week before I determined I only had the bandwidth for homeschooling one child. She can write her name, albeit illegibly and missing a vowel, but she would much rather be outside digging for worms. My kindergartner, was reluctant to our new system in the way a bull is reluctant to being roped and branded. During every Zoom meeting she would either be hiding under her desk, or running from the room.

Cut to us in our kitchen 3 weeks into distance learning:

I’m sitting at the table determined to finish the small group lesson, she refused to sit through. My arm is already tired from holding up sight word flashcards. The baby is crying, but if I pick her up, she will throw the cards on the floor right after she has licked and crumpled them. Maddie is non-ironically yelling, “Stop yelling, Charlotte” and Charlotte is screaming in a repetitive loop, “I hate this school! No! I don’t want to! Please, no. I can’t read!”

This continues and I am no longer attempting to teach, but to de-escalate and regain her compliance. The entire process takes 48 minutes and I know because I watched the little hand move around the clock, as it felt like the room was slowly filling with water. At first it puddles around my feet and I splash it around, eventually as I’m wading, all the sounds merge together and then suddenly, I’m drowning. I contemplate how my thoughts can be made of equal parts anger and sadness. All the while, there is only one question swimming around in my head:

How am I not equipped to teach my own children?

The outside world has shouted its recommendations:

Only focus on their emotional well-being with no added stressors!

Make sure you implement a structured academic routine for consistency!

Do what’s best for your family!

So, which is it?

I’m here to tell you, I have absolutely no idea.

I could analyze and overthink and I will and I do. But it all boils down to the fact that I’ve never transitioned a preschooler and a kindergarten into virtual schooling with a baby at the prime age of unrelenting curiosity, while my husband continues to work more than full-time outside the home, in the midst a mandatory shelter-in-place ordinance and a terrifying pandemic. I know the challenges are real everywhere—everyone around us is splashing, wading, or drowning. Sometimes it varies day-to-day or in this strange reality, minute-by-minute.

I have no doubt, some are excelling at teaching, but challenged in other ways. As for me, despite every ingredient for success, I suck at this. I share because someone out there needs to know they aren’t alone in this struggle and I offer this truth to use, when needed, as a life raft.

Maddie in the Middle (of Quarantine)

We have created a children’s eBook that can be used as a tool for kids and parents during this unprecedented time of COVID-19↓

I used to envy those who were quarantined without children, day-dreaming about a responsibility-free day—but I now know parents are the lucky ones. Children, like Maddie, with their simplicity, joy, and innocence place us right back into the present, where we all belong.

Thank you for reading, sharing, and supporting our series!

-Jessica, Author

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Missed Maddie the first time? Check it out here↓

This Too Shall Pass

I remember vividly, standing over 4-month-old, Charlotte, on her second solid hour of crying with colic, and thought to myself, this was how mothers went crazy. I checked all the boxes and did all the things for her, but still, she persisted. I had nothing to go of off, no experience, nothing, so I didn’t know it would stop, nor did I trust that it ever would. I couldn’t tell you exactly how long this phase lasted, somewhere between 2-3 months; all I know was there was a before, during, and after. I’m confident someone told me it would pass, however within those months, I believed in my heart and my gut, that it could go on like that, forever.
It’s so easy to allow the walls of our mind to collapse inward.

If we let them.

In the grand scheme of things, this wasn’t the most difficult, or painful experience. There are varying degrees of human suffering and nothing is more frustrating and less helpful than when someone dismisses a hardship and puts it on a lower shelf. We shouldn’t guess what is considered monumental to others. Regardless of its size, the feelings are real.

As the years progressed and we weathered sleep regressions, eating refusals, tantrums, more sleep regressions, I had gained and relied on one truth: this too, while painful or challenging, is temporary. Sometimes it felt like one tough phase would end, only to begin the next, but we always managed to make it through to the other side. That side, was a wiser place that empowered us with a touch more grit and a lot more gratitude.

Now, here we are—twenty-some-odd days into sheltering in place and some familiar feelings are starting to resurface. We don’t have a concrete timeline, there seems to be more questions than answers. The madness teeters a little too close to the edge for comfort. Fear and worry are so heavy in the air, we could almost paint with the layer that encases us.

We say things like, “I could handle staying home, if I just knew for how long. It’s the not knowing, that’s hard.”

It’s true, an end date would help. But with that out of our control, instead, let’s regard in gratitude all those helpers, out there helping. Perhaps, for now, we can trust in the idea, like all hard things in this life, this too shall pass.

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