Distance Learning, Parenting, and Surviving the Pandemic; a Reflection

Today is the last day of school. The last day of school in a year that held unprecedented challenges for children, parents, and teachers; the year of COVID-19 and distance learning during a world wide pandemic.

My kids never returned to in-person to school and the end of this time with them is bittersweet.

I cannot and will not downplay the hardship that all parents have had to face– but especially working parents. It is nearly impossible to function in a work environment when kids need help getting on Zoom, finding a notebook, can’t finish work because there is too much typing, technical issues, and myriad of other things that happen every day with virtual learning. The fact that we have made it out the other end of this…it is a freaking miracle.

This past year was tough on all of us. Financial hardships plagued households, we saw job loss, learning loss, emotional loss, social loss. We saw violence on the streets and the highlights of black lives lost. In America alone, we lost 600,000 lives to the Corona virus.

But I also couldn’t help but appreciate how we rallied.

To the kindergarten teacher who managed to keep a class of 26 five-year-olds on task and interested in virtual environment– you rock. I heard your voice through the speakers, gently coaxing those kids on letter sounds. I watched you read books, make jokes, create art, and teach addition with blocks over video.

Cheers to the first grade teacher who said to my seven-year-old, “Please stop drawing during math, this isn’t the time for that. But please stay after class so I can what you were working on. I bet it’s wonderful.”

To all four of my child’s third grade teachers, who stepped up due to deaths in the family or extreme emotional hardship. Somehow, through all of that, my girl has thrived. It is a testament not only to her, but to the four women who picked up where the last left off, and tackled the material in the best way that they knew how.

To the health care workers, grocery store clerks, mail delivery workers, UPS drivers, garbage men and women– we didn’t fully appreciate how essential you are until this year.

There were impromptu music sessions out the windows of New York apartments, socially distanced happy hours from driveways, city wide applause every night at 7pm for our doctors and nurses. We saw peaceful protesters, banners and signs, social media blackouts and the power of our votes.

I don’t know about you but I have shed innumerable tears, lost my temper on the daily, felt like I failed at work, felt like I failed at home, felt like I failed at teaching, felt like I failed my community. And yet seeing the light at the end of the tunnel makes me pause to appreciate the little things that I got this year.

I saw firsthand the process of learning, of teaching a child to read. Fractions. Multiplication. Division. Typing. Powerpoint. Canvas. Prodigy. Lexia. Zern.

I value recess like I have never done before.

I saw inequities, even within my own district, my own school.

Our family learned about white privilege. We went to rallies. We proudly hung a Black Lives Matter flag beside our American flag. We have been reading books, listening to Podcasts, and recognizing how our history has influenced racism in today’s world.

I learned that I know very little about so many, many things.

Now don’t get me wrong– starting in person school again is bittersweet, yes, but I will be the FIRST in line at drop-off come August, shoving my bundles of joy out of the car without fully stopping. I’m so excited for my kids to have social interactions, to meet their teachers in person, to be in choirs and on soccer teams.

I am thrilled to work in peace, in a quiet house. Alone.

But I do wonder if I might miss the screaming just a little bit or the bang of my office door getting flung open every 30 seconds. If I might miss my child pooping in the bathroom next to my desk, the stench coming under the door and filling up the room. I might yearn for the sound of a football being tossed down the hallway, as I carefully try to duck whilst not spilling my coffee.

Yeah, probably not.

Cheers to all of you out there– we fucking made it. I will drink all the wine for you. I will think of how much we have all given this past year, how much we have lost, how much we have learned, and how far we have to go.

Stay safe out there, friends.