Okay, you win. Taking a new job in the midst of a once-in-a-lifetime, international pandemic, may not have been the smartest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Or was it?
Since March 11, 2020, the world of education has been turned upside down. Every person who works in every school, definitely in the state, probably the country, and possibly the world, is feeling lost and overwhelmed right now. Educators are doing their best in an impossible situation, myself included. We are designing what virtual learning should look like and comparing that to what it actually does look like. Your children’s teachers are doing one of two things right now: they’re either measuring the distance between desks, refilling bottles of hand sanitizer and restocking masks when they should be planning lessons, or they’re researching online learning platforms and troubleshooting connectivity issues when they would normally be focused on fostering relationships with children. Building administrators are making chart after chart (after chart) looking at staffing and caseloads, trying to solve one problem at a time, to support their staff who are barely keeping their heads above water. District administration is looking at schedules, trying to slowly but surely dig themselves out of their never-ending inboxes, and develop protocols that are simultaneously in the best interest of children and in line with state guidance with varying staffing, supplies, and monies. We are, by the way, doing all of this in the public eye. We receive so much positive feedback and thanks from the families we’re supporting, but with the good comes the bad. We do this also with criticism and questions, to many of which we don’t have the answers because, like everyone else in this world, we have never lived through a pandemic. We have never planned for this. There are no resources that have planned out education in a pandemic. We never attended courses to prepare for this level of crisis.
It’s challenging, sure. But I’ve always loved a good challenge. It’s also inspiring to see everyone collectively come together as a team, willing to put in more to their jobs than they have ever put in, just so they can see their students thrive. And honestly, if I can get through this year, I can probably get through anything. Professionally, anyway. When it comes to my family, though, that may be a different story…
Okay, you win again. Taking a new job in the midst of a once-in- a-lifetime, international pandemic, may not have been the smartest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Or was it?
Since July 1, 2020, my family’s world has been turned upside down. Until now, ever since Clara was born, I have been the primary caregiver in the typical sense of the word. Of course, Matthew always has been deeply involved in their lives, but I would be the first to arrive home in the afternoon. I would entertain them until Daddy got home. I would plan meals, organize childcare, administer medication if needed, and you know, basically do the “mom thing.” And I loved every bit. Except of course when she, and eventually they, would drive me completely insane to the point where I counted down the seconds (literally) until Matthew got home. Nowadays, things are a bit…. different. Or rather, we are experiencing a complete role reversal. Matthew is still working primarily from home while I leave for work before the girls wake up. He organizes what time my mom needs to come each day, details that literally do not impact me at all because she is gone by the time I return home. My mom arrives each morning, gets Clara ready for school, and to this day is the only member of our family who has met her teacher. On Mondays, she also attends Eloise’s virtual EI session and works most closely with her as she progresses with her communication. Daddy and Grammie entertain the girls until Mommy comes home just in time for dinner. By this time, they are tired and often cranky. They are also needy, loud, hungry and overall, the opposite of a joy to be with. For the first time in our lives as parents, I understand the pain that he would experience after having missed them all day only to come home to kids who want nothing to do with you. It hurts your heart in ways that you never knew your heart could hurt.
But then, Saturday morning comes. They wake up, toddle around the house in their footie jammies with big smiles and even bigger hugs for Mommy. Clara does ballet on Saturdays; two days from now, I will dress her in her tutu, drive her to the studio, and watch her as she spins, twirls, prances and laughs. We will stop for donuts. We also may stop by the park. We will hold hands and skip, she will tell me I’m her best Mommy and I will tell her she’s my best Clara. We’ll come home and Eloise will give us soggy kisses. She will run carefree and barefoot through the lawn while Clara rides her tricycle. And Sunday, we will do it all again. Soon, we will go apple picking. And then apple picking will turn into pumpkin carving, which will turn into baking for Thanksgiving, which will turn into decorating the tree.
Being a good mom is difficult in the midst of a major historical event. Being a difficult educator is also remarkably difficult. Actually, being a decent human being even seems difficult these days. I feel myself pulled in so many different directions but unlike a year ago, those pulls are harder than ever. I wish so badly that I could be with my girls as much as I was in the spring. I also wish that I had experience with epidemiology so I could alleviate the worries of my teachers. I can’t do either of those things right now, but I can make the best out of these challenging times. I can walk beside the teachers at my school and support them through their challenges. I can talk with the kids at lunch since they have to sit six feet away from their peers, and maybe make them smile a little more than they would have otherwise. I can also give my girls the biggest bear hugs when I get home each night and trust that my husband and my mother have everything else handled. I keep telling our students that they will remember this year for the rest of their lives, but I fail to internalize that I too will never forget this. This too shall end, and when I reflect back on 2020, I hope I’m able to smile and think, if I got through that, then I can get through this too.
