Covid Mom-School

My alarm sounds at 7:45am. Still dark outside, I remind myself I am doing this for my children. The pitter-patter of rain in the gutters makes me want to roll over and snuggle in, freeing myself of parental responsibility today. I imagine it would be easier if unlimited screen time weren’t an April Fools' joke. I shove my feet into cold fuzzy slippers and mentally prepare for Covid Mom-School.

What really gets to me is the lack of order. Our days blend together without a semblance of schedule. Is it taco Tuesday or take-out Thursday? Without my iPhone I'd never know. Now there's Covid homeschool. My four children, 4th grade, 7th grade, 9th grade and 11th are my educational responsibility. It's telling what happens to public education when left to the states to decide. On week three of our endless 'spring break', frustrated teachers assure us Portland Public Schools is working on a plan for online learning but have been given 'very little information' on how to proceed. The state’s lack of educational plan is as reassuring as our nest egg, bouncing around in the stock market, trusting it doesn't break before the promise of retirement someday.

"Our failing public schools..." Trump's State of the Union words resonate in my head as private school neighbors and out-of-state friends and family in public schools are already back to school online. I pay taxes for my children's public education too! A structured day with children answering to accredited teachers online seems more like a dream.

Mom school. Who am I kidding? A school principal in disguise, my undercover persona doesn't hold up to children who know I'm just their mom. My students are savages, reluctant to conform to a few hours of scheduled learning. My 7th grader is often in detention. The other day I called a 'fire drill' to lock them outside and found myself sitting alone on the porch. Honestly, I couldn't solve for Y if my life depended on it and I catch myself wondering how to make something explode with supplies in the pantry. I'll admit silent reading is my favorite homeschool subject next to 'preparing a family meal on your own', and we all enjoy recess! Happy hour is the only predictable part my day, when social distancing is welcome.

Last night my husband assured me I'm doing a great job. Exhausted by kids honing their debate skills, arguing over the amount of details they must include in 'free writing' to grandma, I'm not sure. I remember the feeling of insecurity in previous jobs; scared I had no clue what I was doing yet relying on my college education or spy tradecraft to figure it out. This week I 'Googled' how to make a squishy egg, then we watched it grow through osmosis in a glass full of water, bouncing it and trusting it wouldn't break until we busted its balloon-like membrane and yolk poured out.


What I wouldn't give for a job challenging my intellect and a raise or bonus! Maybe that's the point, we're all working from home. There is no semblance of order. With added duties and challenges beyond our wildest imagination during Covid-19 quarantine, we're lucky to have each other and money to pay the bills. It sucks, to use my son's loquacious vocabulary, but to hear him share the story of Harriet Tubman during Women's History Month, perhaps we're all learning something. Cheers! Is it happy hour yet?

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