Well that's a wrap! (sort of). The official announcement came on Tuesday that schools will not open again until at least September. And with that announcement, and the arrival of good weather, I can feel everyone's energy and dedication to online fading quickly, including my own. I continue to have excellent participation in my French class, regardless of the fact that it is optional. But I will be shifting what we are doing going forward. Instead of the learning choice boards, we will work on a very neat story writing project, which will have the added benefit of providing many easy readers for school next year.
My own kids are starting to rumble even more about school now, and with the sun shining and the skies blue I just don't have the energy to insist that they stay stuck at the computer anymore. And so I have proposed a deal: school can end on May 31, but they must give up screens for June. They will have 8-9 in the morning still, mostly for Caleb who is deep into the world of coding, and I don't want him to lose that momentum, as that is the best learning he has done over these months. And we will still have some family movies nights or video game nights. But other than that, the screens are off. I'm still hoping to cultivate both deeper friendships between the kids and the ability to fill their own time with creativity and imagination.
Recently there has been a shift in the media narrative and focus relating to Covid-19, and that's toward mental health. There are articles acknowledging that we as adults are struggling. We are struggling with illness and lost wages and uncertainty in our jobs and homeschooling and loneliness. Mental health strategies are emerging to help us cope. For my own mental health, I am taking lots of walks - often more than one a day. I have also eased off the constant media check. I used to check the worldometer.com Covid-19 numbers count daily, but now I check in once a week. The result of this is that I don't see the numbers every day, but seeing that number grow in such leaps and bounds each week is jarring.
Another aspect affected by the Quarantine is moving. We have observed houses going up for sale and being sold in our neighbourhood. Obviously there aren't hoards of people at open houses going through to look at houses. I'm not even sure if people have to buy a house without actually walking through it (not sure I would love that). But we have friends who had planned to move to New Brunswick back in January, and are now facing some difficult circumstances. Each province has its own rules and as our friends have to navigate multiple province guidelines as they travel. Through Quebec they must avoid Montreal, considered a hotspot of the province. Schools have opened up everywhere else but this main city. Once they cross into New Brunswick, they must drive straight to their new home without stopping, as the rule is that the first place you stop you must quarantine for two weeks. My friend contemplated all the difficulties about this journey, with six kids and a pregnant dog in the van, along with two weeks worth of food as they cannot even go to a grocery store during the quarantine period.
As I watched my dear friend prepare to leave, I had to prepare myself to watch her go. Her husband is good friends with mine, her children and my children have grown up the last seven years together. Not a heart in our home isn't heavy, and yet we must say goodbye from a distance. The elaborate farewell party was cancelled, planned sleepover for the kids put on hold until they visit next year. Over seven years it was our habit to sit and watch the children play in the summer sun and dissect the world around us for hours. All of these experiences will not get their "last one." Instead we have spent the last two months apart and they will quietly disappear from their country home. Perhaps this is the most gentle way to say goodbye, as we will not have the pressure of a last visit with heavy hearts and lumps in our throat and a sting in our eyes.
Finally this week there has been an easing of restrictions. The world opened up a little, or rather, it peeked through a clenching eye to see what was left of the economy. Some businesses started to open, the ones that were breaking because they could not be shifted to home-based work. The rules seem arbitrary - as though the virus cannot travel through a Wal-Mart but would bring instant death to a small business. My favourite image thus far was a bank line up - dots on the floor spaced dutifully six feet apart from the person ahead, but a mere 18 inches from the line beside, willing the virus to not travel horizontally. We can once more walk through our local conservation park. Small gatherings of up to 5 people, as long as everyone remains 6 feet apart. No one is quite sure what the rules are, and how we might be unintentionally breaking them. Rumours of $900 fines for two families gathering in a house make us look furtively around in case a neighbour rats on my sister's visit.
No matter. My daughter Juliette is breaking down. She is the only girl, the youngest sibling by three years, highly social and the only extrovert among us and begs every day for a small gathering of her friends or a sister (as though it were up to me). I have begun to arrange some "social distance play dates", knowing full well the concept is beyond a 7 year old. Yesterday we "happened" upon our best friends (the family we have known since our oldest children were toddlers) on a hike. We trusted the open air to carry away any trace of virus. Upon returning from the three hour dawdle (a more honest rendering of our pace) Juliette drifted into the backyard, sat upon a chair and sang her little heart out to herself. Much needed medicine for her mental health, and we could all see that she was well again. A backyard visit from her cousins today was a further balm for her aching soul. I have a few more planned next week.
Friday, 22 May 2020
Friday, 15 May 2020
2020 Quarantine - week 9
Well, 9 weeks in and it seems we are finally rolling into the time of easing restrictions. I'm not sure if this means the threat is past or we just have to finally start dealing with the reality of the illness.
Two things in the past week have given me real pause for thought. The first was an email from the Ontario Soccer association. They were asking for input from parents, coaches and players about the upcoming 2020 soccer season. The general statement was: if governments allow summer sports for children, under what circumstances would we participate? There were all sorts of suggestions, like parents being allowed to drop of kids only and not stay to watch practices or games, reduced number of teams in each division, local games only instead of travel. As I navigated through the survey, my opinion became very clear: it is either safe to open, or it is not. Soccer is a near-contact sport. The players come in very close contact. They are breathing heavily, sweating, spitting, touching the ball, and very near between 10-20 other plays on the field. There is no "social distancing" in kids sports. So in my opinion, we are either all in, or we aren't. There is no halfway. If the season opens, then it is safe for the kids to play and we do not need any additional measures. A regular house league season would mean my child comes in contact with at least 100 other players, and by extension, their families. Do we really think reducing that to 50 is going to make a huge difference? Yes, I understand how exposure works, and more people is more exposure. My point is, 50 people is a huge contact number. 100 people is a huge contact number. Safe contact is zero.
More controversial than summer sports, of course, is school. All around the world schools are starting to open up, with social distancing measures in place. If you had asked me up until this week if my kids would go back to school if they opened in June, I would have said yes. It seems to me that this virus is packing less punch than they thought. I feel it is fairly low risk for us to be out and about. But having seen some of the measures being put in place for social distanced education around the world, I have turned around 180 degrees. There is a video of a principal giving a tour of all the new protocols students will have to follow when they get back to school. There are dots on the schoolyard that students need to stand on in line when they arrive. There are lines on the school hallways floors, and only one person can be on a line at a time. There is hand sanitizer at every door. There are no toys in the classroom or books to share. There is no gym equipment or yard toys or using park sets. Students are returning part time, with warnings that at any time the school may temporarily close again. To me, it really just looks like emotional trauma. School has been a safe place to go and spend most of the weekdays. All the measures are just bringing the trauma of this virus up close and personal. Up to this point, my children understand there is a virus that has had to close schools, parks and playdates. But we are functioning fairly regularly within our own home. Having to go to school under these circumstances has the potential to be fear-inducing. And for young children who need to be barked at or scolded for getting too near a friend, when they don't understand what's going on properly, well, I just can't imagine it.
We are supposed to find out next month what Ontario schools will look like in September. My new contract doesn't have me home as much as I was this year, which may pose a problem for trying to keep my kids home. But we will certainly look to be creative if we are facing measures like these.
Two things in the past week have given me real pause for thought. The first was an email from the Ontario Soccer association. They were asking for input from parents, coaches and players about the upcoming 2020 soccer season. The general statement was: if governments allow summer sports for children, under what circumstances would we participate? There were all sorts of suggestions, like parents being allowed to drop of kids only and not stay to watch practices or games, reduced number of teams in each division, local games only instead of travel. As I navigated through the survey, my opinion became very clear: it is either safe to open, or it is not. Soccer is a near-contact sport. The players come in very close contact. They are breathing heavily, sweating, spitting, touching the ball, and very near between 10-20 other plays on the field. There is no "social distancing" in kids sports. So in my opinion, we are either all in, or we aren't. There is no halfway. If the season opens, then it is safe for the kids to play and we do not need any additional measures. A regular house league season would mean my child comes in contact with at least 100 other players, and by extension, their families. Do we really think reducing that to 50 is going to make a huge difference? Yes, I understand how exposure works, and more people is more exposure. My point is, 50 people is a huge contact number. 100 people is a huge contact number. Safe contact is zero.
More controversial than summer sports, of course, is school. All around the world schools are starting to open up, with social distancing measures in place. If you had asked me up until this week if my kids would go back to school if they opened in June, I would have said yes. It seems to me that this virus is packing less punch than they thought. I feel it is fairly low risk for us to be out and about. But having seen some of the measures being put in place for social distanced education around the world, I have turned around 180 degrees. There is a video of a principal giving a tour of all the new protocols students will have to follow when they get back to school. There are dots on the schoolyard that students need to stand on in line when they arrive. There are lines on the school hallways floors, and only one person can be on a line at a time. There is hand sanitizer at every door. There are no toys in the classroom or books to share. There is no gym equipment or yard toys or using park sets. Students are returning part time, with warnings that at any time the school may temporarily close again. To me, it really just looks like emotional trauma. School has been a safe place to go and spend most of the weekdays. All the measures are just bringing the trauma of this virus up close and personal. Up to this point, my children understand there is a virus that has had to close schools, parks and playdates. But we are functioning fairly regularly within our own home. Having to go to school under these circumstances has the potential to be fear-inducing. And for young children who need to be barked at or scolded for getting too near a friend, when they don't understand what's going on properly, well, I just can't imagine it.
We are supposed to find out next month what Ontario schools will look like in September. My new contract doesn't have me home as much as I was this year, which may pose a problem for trying to keep my kids home. But we will certainly look to be creative if we are facing measures like these.
Friday, 8 May 2020
2020 Quarantine - Week 8
Let's talk about the big event things that are looking very different during the quarantine.
First - birthdays. Especially kid birthdays. Juliette's is next month, and let me tell you, birthdays when you are turning 8 are a big deal. She has been planning her party since she turned 7, and right from the beginning of the quarantine she had the idea that this might change plans. We still have a month, so we'll see. She's holding out hope for a lifting of the social isolation protocol, but I just hope we can have a small gathering with her cousins and her best friend.
Many people are organizing the "birthday drive-by parade". This is where friends drive by in their cars, holding signs and decorated with streamers and balloons. There is honking and well-wishing through the window. It doesn't last long, but I sure love to see those birthday faces beam. We've participated in one full on parade, where the cars all came at the same time. It was for a friend of Colin's. They live half an hour outside of town, and there were about 20 of us that trekked down for it. I've seen a few videos online of friends who live further away who are doing the same thing.
We've also made a special trip out for a few others friends (and one of my students). We can't do much more than park outside and honk, perhaps have a short conversation from the car, and drop off a small gift or treat. It's definitely not the same as a party, but it will have been a unique experience for all those with quarantine birthdays.
The other big spring event being affected are graduations and proms. Mostly I've just seen that proms are cancelled. I was never a big fan (I didn't even attend my high school prom), but I have a feeling that although the cancellation will feel very sad right now, a prom means that you are on to bigger and better things. In the fall, those grade 8s will hardly want to look back at elementary (they are usually very eager to get out). The high school grads will be at university or college and will have moved into a very different stage of life. And the university/college grads are finally out in the real world pursuing their dreams.
Graduations, though, are a celebration of an accomplishment right now. I know my own elementary school is working through a way to have a virtual graduation for our grade 8s. They are getting lawn signs to indicate "MVPS grad lives here!" As for university graduation ceremonies, I'm helping organize a private one for my best friend. After four years of school while raising 5 kids, her accomplishment is something her mother wanted to celebrate now. So tonight we will go live on Zoom to broadcast a short ceremony, involving some kind words from her husband and daughter, a video of celebratory messages from friends, a cake, a banner, and general well-wishing by her mom, sister and me from the backyard.
This week my children sat down to write a letter to my grandmother. Nana takes all the grandkids and great-grandkids to a cottage every summer. It is the highlight of the kids year. And of course, it is in jeopardy this year. Because Nana lives 3 hours from us, we only get to see her a handful of times a year. And because I had a pile of photos to send off to her for a scrapbook project, I asked the kids to each tuck in a letter as well. Letter writing has taken off in the time of quarantine. Funny - email and FaceTime quickly replaced letter writing. And it's not like either of these formats is unusable during quarantine. But for some reason, without the ability to have physical touch, something about a hand written letter is filling a bit of that hole. Nana was overjoyed at the package she received, and a little unsure of what to answer my 10 year old Ben who begged for a letter back with news of what she has been doing. "It's been a little dull over here," she chortled. Nothing like Ben's letter filled with snake-hunting animal-watching adventures.
When I went to mail the letter, I needed to purchase a large padded envelope from the post office. The worker informed me they were behind the counter, and got me one. Then he stared at the letters and photos I had in my hand. "I can't mail any package that wasn't sealed at home." I stared back. "But, you have the envelope I needed." "I know," he replied, "But I can't mail anything that wasn't sealed at home." Stupefied, I stuttered: "So, if I just go out to my car and stuff this..." "Um, well, no, I mean, I'm not sure. I can't mail it because it was loose..." I shook my head and quickly exited the door. Then I stuffed my envelope in the hallway and returned back to the post office desk. "Is this okay?" "Yes, that's fine." I tried not to laugh or judge aloud. Just following rules, but rules set by someone who doesn't really consider the reality of the situation.
My friend posted on Facebook this week about her experience going out to a store. She is deaf and relies 100% on lip-reading. This makes the world of face masks very scary for her. She can ask for something but not hear a reply. She cannot understand an answer to a question. She does not hear how much she owes, or even if there is an emergency and they need to communicate something to her. The implications of the safety measures we take can have a totally different meaning to some we have never considered. She reported her trip into the store went okay. Employees did not remove their masks, but they did try to use gestures to help communicate.
Education is still in flux. Some schools around the world are returning. But many parents are choosing to keep their kids home, so classes are quite empty. There are images of teachers in full clear face masks, desks moved to be 6 feet apart, technology and games and books are banned, and movement among students restricted. The general public opinion seems to be "please open the economy but we are not ready for schools to open." I think the undertone of this is "I'm okay putting myself at risk, but I am not putting my child at risk." Ontario is waiting until next week to hear what will happen with the rest of the school year. Currently schools are closed until the end of May. Speculation abounds. I for one am growing a little weary of online school. My days are mostly filled with trying to give weekly feedback to 100 students. That takes 80% of my time, with only 20% of the time for planning and teaching. When I'm in school, it's reversed: 80% of my time is teaching and 20% giving feedback. I have delivered 5 weeks of online school, and there are another 7 to go...I still have about 90% of my students handing in work, but we'll see what happens as the weather improves.
The online community is still harshly divided down the middle, but there is a third voice emerging. That of "this was a serious virus but the reaction was overblown." I wonder how history will write this time period.
First - birthdays. Especially kid birthdays. Juliette's is next month, and let me tell you, birthdays when you are turning 8 are a big deal. She has been planning her party since she turned 7, and right from the beginning of the quarantine she had the idea that this might change plans. We still have a month, so we'll see. She's holding out hope for a lifting of the social isolation protocol, but I just hope we can have a small gathering with her cousins and her best friend.
Many people are organizing the "birthday drive-by parade". This is where friends drive by in their cars, holding signs and decorated with streamers and balloons. There is honking and well-wishing through the window. It doesn't last long, but I sure love to see those birthday faces beam. We've participated in one full on parade, where the cars all came at the same time. It was for a friend of Colin's. They live half an hour outside of town, and there were about 20 of us that trekked down for it. I've seen a few videos online of friends who live further away who are doing the same thing.
We've also made a special trip out for a few others friends (and one of my students). We can't do much more than park outside and honk, perhaps have a short conversation from the car, and drop off a small gift or treat. It's definitely not the same as a party, but it will have been a unique experience for all those with quarantine birthdays.
The other big spring event being affected are graduations and proms. Mostly I've just seen that proms are cancelled. I was never a big fan (I didn't even attend my high school prom), but I have a feeling that although the cancellation will feel very sad right now, a prom means that you are on to bigger and better things. In the fall, those grade 8s will hardly want to look back at elementary (they are usually very eager to get out). The high school grads will be at university or college and will have moved into a very different stage of life. And the university/college grads are finally out in the real world pursuing their dreams.
Graduations, though, are a celebration of an accomplishment right now. I know my own elementary school is working through a way to have a virtual graduation for our grade 8s. They are getting lawn signs to indicate "MVPS grad lives here!" As for university graduation ceremonies, I'm helping organize a private one for my best friend. After four years of school while raising 5 kids, her accomplishment is something her mother wanted to celebrate now. So tonight we will go live on Zoom to broadcast a short ceremony, involving some kind words from her husband and daughter, a video of celebratory messages from friends, a cake, a banner, and general well-wishing by her mom, sister and me from the backyard.
This week my children sat down to write a letter to my grandmother. Nana takes all the grandkids and great-grandkids to a cottage every summer. It is the highlight of the kids year. And of course, it is in jeopardy this year. Because Nana lives 3 hours from us, we only get to see her a handful of times a year. And because I had a pile of photos to send off to her for a scrapbook project, I asked the kids to each tuck in a letter as well. Letter writing has taken off in the time of quarantine. Funny - email and FaceTime quickly replaced letter writing. And it's not like either of these formats is unusable during quarantine. But for some reason, without the ability to have physical touch, something about a hand written letter is filling a bit of that hole. Nana was overjoyed at the package she received, and a little unsure of what to answer my 10 year old Ben who begged for a letter back with news of what she has been doing. "It's been a little dull over here," she chortled. Nothing like Ben's letter filled with snake-hunting animal-watching adventures.
When I went to mail the letter, I needed to purchase a large padded envelope from the post office. The worker informed me they were behind the counter, and got me one. Then he stared at the letters and photos I had in my hand. "I can't mail any package that wasn't sealed at home." I stared back. "But, you have the envelope I needed." "I know," he replied, "But I can't mail anything that wasn't sealed at home." Stupefied, I stuttered: "So, if I just go out to my car and stuff this..." "Um, well, no, I mean, I'm not sure. I can't mail it because it was loose..." I shook my head and quickly exited the door. Then I stuffed my envelope in the hallway and returned back to the post office desk. "Is this okay?" "Yes, that's fine." I tried not to laugh or judge aloud. Just following rules, but rules set by someone who doesn't really consider the reality of the situation.
My friend posted on Facebook this week about her experience going out to a store. She is deaf and relies 100% on lip-reading. This makes the world of face masks very scary for her. She can ask for something but not hear a reply. She cannot understand an answer to a question. She does not hear how much she owes, or even if there is an emergency and they need to communicate something to her. The implications of the safety measures we take can have a totally different meaning to some we have never considered. She reported her trip into the store went okay. Employees did not remove their masks, but they did try to use gestures to help communicate.
Education is still in flux. Some schools around the world are returning. But many parents are choosing to keep their kids home, so classes are quite empty. There are images of teachers in full clear face masks, desks moved to be 6 feet apart, technology and games and books are banned, and movement among students restricted. The general public opinion seems to be "please open the economy but we are not ready for schools to open." I think the undertone of this is "I'm okay putting myself at risk, but I am not putting my child at risk." Ontario is waiting until next week to hear what will happen with the rest of the school year. Currently schools are closed until the end of May. Speculation abounds. I for one am growing a little weary of online school. My days are mostly filled with trying to give weekly feedback to 100 students. That takes 80% of my time, with only 20% of the time for planning and teaching. When I'm in school, it's reversed: 80% of my time is teaching and 20% giving feedback. I have delivered 5 weeks of online school, and there are another 7 to go...I still have about 90% of my students handing in work, but we'll see what happens as the weather improves.
The online community is still harshly divided down the middle, but there is a third voice emerging. That of "this was a serious virus but the reaction was overblown." I wonder how history will write this time period.
Saturday, 2 May 2020
Kid stuff
Juliette
Juliette seems to have an eye and appreciation for the small artistic elements of film. Lately as she watches movies, she will notice an artistic transition between scenes, an image tied back to a previous scene, the use of a camera angle or shot to highlight a theme. I can see her mind registering it, as she starts to nod, then looks to us and says "Clever." in an understated, knowing, 7-year old kind of way.
***
"I love these sweatpants, and this sweatshirt. Don't I look just like a teenager?" Juliette is obsessed by all things teenage. I think she hit three years old and magically aged to thirteen. She loves clothes and makeup, and has a mature vocabulary and a tone about her voice that oozes both confidence and moodiness simultaneously. She yearns for when she can drive and have a boyfriend. With three older brothers there is has been absolutely no teenage girl influence here at the house, and yet this little one has emerged owning her vision.
***
Juliette wants to be a singer when she grows up. She adores indie singer-songwriter Mindy Gledhill. She knows all her songs, and loves to listen, lip synch and dance to them. She has a very strong vision of her future, which includes world tours and concerts. She loves to write songs - some of them are impromptu improvisation, but there are many sheets of paper scattered throughout the music room and her bedroom of actual lyrics she has written over the past two years.
***
Benjamin
Benjamin is the epitome of 10. Really, everything about him reminds me of why I think 10 just might be the perfect childhood age. He is enraptured by the magic of make believe, the outdoors, his dad's humour and his mom's adventurous nature. His best friend is Audree, whom he has known since birth. They are entering pre-teen years and yet continuously find each other and their innocence among all the changes. He races to catch up with his big brothers and cuddles in my bed in the mornings. He has the most musical laugh. He wears sweatpants and rain boots to catch snakes in the back field. He has fallen in love with Harry Potter, those early years in the series when magic and friendship are unspoiled by things bigger than a ten year old's world. There is wonder in his eyes when he sleeps in a tent or spends hours fishing up trout and gently setting them free. He is at the age when a boy with a ball or a fishing rod or an interesting bug can cement a friendship for a day or a week and then move on without sadness. He will sit for a moment at the fire, knowing he is on the verge of serious conversations but then retreating to the trampoline because subconsciously he knows he's not quite there yet. Oh, if I could hold him suspended in time right now...I only hope he remembers this time fondly. 10 was a magical time for me as well, and I remember such wonderful things about those years.
***
Benjamin is all about snakes these days. A few days ago he asked me to take him hiking through the forest and field behind our house looking for snakes. I'm always up for getting out of the house but I doubted the odds of actually coming upon a snake. But then seeing his eyes light up when he looked down to see one crawling right in front of his path...
Today we found our old friend the garden snake in the garden in front of our house. Benjamin actually sat and watched that snake for more than two hours. He fed it some small chunks of ham and got to see the snake actually haul it away and eat it. He watched it in our garden, then watched as it moved across the path into the side garden. Then watched it as it made its way over to the neighbours garden. And lo and behold, it slithered right on over beside a second larger snake, with something fresh in its tummy to eat. Benjamin kept going on about how this was the best week ever.
***
Ben is our resident comedian. His comedic timing is unmatched. There are a whole collection of little lines that are already a part of family lore. He has a quick wit and the ability to snatch a line and turn it around in a flash. These may make no sense years down the road, or maybe they will twig a memory and everyone will remember:
"My imagination is flying away from me. My imagination!" (as he tracks something invisible through the sky)
"Dad told Caleb that the Italians invented plates when they first made pizza and used them as plates. And Caleb believed it. Caleb said that he only believes about this much (holding finger and thumb an inch apart) of what Dad tells him." Then Ben said, pointing to the space between the finger and thumb "And right in here, is the idea that pizza's were plates."
Ben throws his arm over us when we are lying in bed and gives an evil laugh: "You are anchored!" (in other words, we cannot escape his cuddle).
Juliette seems to have an eye and appreciation for the small artistic elements of film. Lately as she watches movies, she will notice an artistic transition between scenes, an image tied back to a previous scene, the use of a camera angle or shot to highlight a theme. I can see her mind registering it, as she starts to nod, then looks to us and says "Clever." in an understated, knowing, 7-year old kind of way.
***
"I love these sweatpants, and this sweatshirt. Don't I look just like a teenager?" Juliette is obsessed by all things teenage. I think she hit three years old and magically aged to thirteen. She loves clothes and makeup, and has a mature vocabulary and a tone about her voice that oozes both confidence and moodiness simultaneously. She yearns for when she can drive and have a boyfriend. With three older brothers there is has been absolutely no teenage girl influence here at the house, and yet this little one has emerged owning her vision.
***
Juliette wants to be a singer when she grows up. She adores indie singer-songwriter Mindy Gledhill. She knows all her songs, and loves to listen, lip synch and dance to them. She has a very strong vision of her future, which includes world tours and concerts. She loves to write songs - some of them are impromptu improvisation, but there are many sheets of paper scattered throughout the music room and her bedroom of actual lyrics she has written over the past two years.
***
Benjamin
Benjamin is the epitome of 10. Really, everything about him reminds me of why I think 10 just might be the perfect childhood age. He is enraptured by the magic of make believe, the outdoors, his dad's humour and his mom's adventurous nature. His best friend is Audree, whom he has known since birth. They are entering pre-teen years and yet continuously find each other and their innocence among all the changes. He races to catch up with his big brothers and cuddles in my bed in the mornings. He has the most musical laugh. He wears sweatpants and rain boots to catch snakes in the back field. He has fallen in love with Harry Potter, those early years in the series when magic and friendship are unspoiled by things bigger than a ten year old's world. There is wonder in his eyes when he sleeps in a tent or spends hours fishing up trout and gently setting them free. He is at the age when a boy with a ball or a fishing rod or an interesting bug can cement a friendship for a day or a week and then move on without sadness. He will sit for a moment at the fire, knowing he is on the verge of serious conversations but then retreating to the trampoline because subconsciously he knows he's not quite there yet. Oh, if I could hold him suspended in time right now...I only hope he remembers this time fondly. 10 was a magical time for me as well, and I remember such wonderful things about those years.
***
Benjamin is all about snakes these days. A few days ago he asked me to take him hiking through the forest and field behind our house looking for snakes. I'm always up for getting out of the house but I doubted the odds of actually coming upon a snake. But then seeing his eyes light up when he looked down to see one crawling right in front of his path...
Today we found our old friend the garden snake in the garden in front of our house. Benjamin actually sat and watched that snake for more than two hours. He fed it some small chunks of ham and got to see the snake actually haul it away and eat it. He watched it in our garden, then watched as it moved across the path into the side garden. Then watched it as it made its way over to the neighbours garden. And lo and behold, it slithered right on over beside a second larger snake, with something fresh in its tummy to eat. Benjamin kept going on about how this was the best week ever.
***
Ben is our resident comedian. His comedic timing is unmatched. There are a whole collection of little lines that are already a part of family lore. He has a quick wit and the ability to snatch a line and turn it around in a flash. These may make no sense years down the road, or maybe they will twig a memory and everyone will remember:
"My imagination is flying away from me. My imagination!" (as he tracks something invisible through the sky)
"Dad told Caleb that the Italians invented plates when they first made pizza and used them as plates. And Caleb believed it. Caleb said that he only believes about this much (holding finger and thumb an inch apart) of what Dad tells him." Then Ben said, pointing to the space between the finger and thumb "And right in here, is the idea that pizza's were plates."
Ben throws his arm over us when we are lying in bed and gives an evil laugh: "You are anchored!" (in other words, we cannot escape his cuddle).
Friday, 1 May 2020
2020 quarantine - week 7
The announcement has come that we are continuing the quarantine measures until the end of May. Our provincial government is extended the measures two weeks at a time. I engaged in a good debate two weeks back about the merits of short closures versus long closures. Several provinces have already announced that schools will not be back in before September. The argument has been made that people need to some sense of stability, the ability to make plans, to get their minds settled around what life is going to look like. Leaders have taken the standpoint that the reality is school is not likely to be able to be back by June, and so just call it now.
I suppose Ontario is choosing to leave a bit of hope with us, in exchange for uncertainty. I haven't come down on which side is better. As a teacher I would rather know what I'm planning for for the next two months, but to be honest, if things changed quickly, why not get back to life?
We keep a less vigilant eye on the numbers these days, checking in one every three or four days to see the numbers climb. Worldometer.com is my go-to place. It seems to be a fairly neutral counting website, displaying the numbers of cases and deaths and tests per country, but also breaking the numbers down by millions of population. A tricky thing to count numbers these days, as we hear about the variants in who can get tested, and the dispute between a dying of Covid-19, or a Covid-related death. Current numbers stand at: 3.3 million cases, and 240,000 deaths. The epicentres of Spain, Italy, the UK, France and New York don't show much signs of slowing.
The frigid spring we've been experiencing is beginning to break. 18C and sunny for both weekend days coming up. I can't help but wonder if people will start to break out of their homes more and more.
A funny concept emerged this week out of Manitoba: a 2 bubble family. The idea is that rather than simply being alone, two families can decide to create a family bubble between them. It can only involve two families, meaning you can't daisy chain to others. We have our best friends who live nearby, and so it was easy to "pick" our family, if it came to that. But we joked about buffing up family resumes, or a reality show based on who you'd choose. The reality is a little more bleak: I'm not sure people can handle the grade school elementary antics of being left out in such a way.
Governments are starting to release their plans to restart life and the economy. They are plans that go in reverse from how we shut down, with long stretches in between to monitor numbers. All in all, it makes sense to me. The longer this goes on, the louder the conspiracy voices get, but my limited understanding of the medical world tells me that pandemics happen. I don't think this one is as bad as they thought, and it certainly isn't what the 1918 flu pandemic was.
One thing I haven't touched on yet is church. Early on all church services were suspended, given that they are large gatherings. Many churches have moved quickly to an online format, with pastors delivering sermons either through al I've stream or pre-recorded sessions. We have simply moved to having a simple service in our own home. I strum the guitar as we sing a few hymns. We pass the sacramental bread and water. Then we have a short reading from scripture and a discussion of the passage together. The youth groups and the adult groups are holding bi-weekly zoom meetings. Sometimes they consist of a more formal Sunday school lesson, and sometimes they are simply to check in with each other. For special Sunday services (Easter in the past, and Mother's Day and Father's Day coming up) we have members pre-record a talk or a spiritual thought or a musical number and upload it to a YouTube channel playlist. We then play it during our own family Sunday service. It is pleasant to hear the thoughts and ideas of our friends for something different.
Zoom is an online virtual meeting platform that has taken off. By offering its full package free of charge during this time, everyone everywhere made an account. Church services, business meetings, school classes, theatre rehearsals - everyone has jumped on. What I think it has really highlighted, though, is how woefully inadequate the medium is. While it works to convey information, the reality of the format, the internet lag, and the inability to have a truly organic conversation just leaves me feeling like it's more trouble than it's worth.
We are trying to be very conscious of having the screens off the entire afternoon. The result this week has been some excellent snake hunting (and finding), as well as avoiding being the hunted ourselves. While exploring the conservation out back I suppose we wandered a little too close to some private land, and Ben and I observed a man fetching his hunting rifle from the back of his car parked in the middle of a large field. I discovered back at home that this week is wild turkey hunting week. Hunting is banned from June 1 to September 30, so until then we will have to stay a little closer to home.
But our little idyll behind the home is providing endless hours of nature education and fun for the kids and adults alike. A cool stream, garden snakes, climbing trees, smart coyotes and a hole-in-the-hen-house fence (stolen eggs, the evidence left brazenly behind the fence), old bleached bones, swimming water-spiders, and evening fires are filling the days. As the weather warms I hope the kids discover the joy that the freedom of the forest and the freedom from adult eyes and ears can give.
I suppose Ontario is choosing to leave a bit of hope with us, in exchange for uncertainty. I haven't come down on which side is better. As a teacher I would rather know what I'm planning for for the next two months, but to be honest, if things changed quickly, why not get back to life?
We keep a less vigilant eye on the numbers these days, checking in one every three or four days to see the numbers climb. Worldometer.com is my go-to place. It seems to be a fairly neutral counting website, displaying the numbers of cases and deaths and tests per country, but also breaking the numbers down by millions of population. A tricky thing to count numbers these days, as we hear about the variants in who can get tested, and the dispute between a dying of Covid-19, or a Covid-related death. Current numbers stand at: 3.3 million cases, and 240,000 deaths. The epicentres of Spain, Italy, the UK, France and New York don't show much signs of slowing.
The frigid spring we've been experiencing is beginning to break. 18C and sunny for both weekend days coming up. I can't help but wonder if people will start to break out of their homes more and more.
A funny concept emerged this week out of Manitoba: a 2 bubble family. The idea is that rather than simply being alone, two families can decide to create a family bubble between them. It can only involve two families, meaning you can't daisy chain to others. We have our best friends who live nearby, and so it was easy to "pick" our family, if it came to that. But we joked about buffing up family resumes, or a reality show based on who you'd choose. The reality is a little more bleak: I'm not sure people can handle the grade school elementary antics of being left out in such a way.
Governments are starting to release their plans to restart life and the economy. They are plans that go in reverse from how we shut down, with long stretches in between to monitor numbers. All in all, it makes sense to me. The longer this goes on, the louder the conspiracy voices get, but my limited understanding of the medical world tells me that pandemics happen. I don't think this one is as bad as they thought, and it certainly isn't what the 1918 flu pandemic was.
One thing I haven't touched on yet is church. Early on all church services were suspended, given that they are large gatherings. Many churches have moved quickly to an online format, with pastors delivering sermons either through al I've stream or pre-recorded sessions. We have simply moved to having a simple service in our own home. I strum the guitar as we sing a few hymns. We pass the sacramental bread and water. Then we have a short reading from scripture and a discussion of the passage together. The youth groups and the adult groups are holding bi-weekly zoom meetings. Sometimes they consist of a more formal Sunday school lesson, and sometimes they are simply to check in with each other. For special Sunday services (Easter in the past, and Mother's Day and Father's Day coming up) we have members pre-record a talk or a spiritual thought or a musical number and upload it to a YouTube channel playlist. We then play it during our own family Sunday service. It is pleasant to hear the thoughts and ideas of our friends for something different.
Zoom is an online virtual meeting platform that has taken off. By offering its full package free of charge during this time, everyone everywhere made an account. Church services, business meetings, school classes, theatre rehearsals - everyone has jumped on. What I think it has really highlighted, though, is how woefully inadequate the medium is. While it works to convey information, the reality of the format, the internet lag, and the inability to have a truly organic conversation just leaves me feeling like it's more trouble than it's worth.
We are trying to be very conscious of having the screens off the entire afternoon. The result this week has been some excellent snake hunting (and finding), as well as avoiding being the hunted ourselves. While exploring the conservation out back I suppose we wandered a little too close to some private land, and Ben and I observed a man fetching his hunting rifle from the back of his car parked in the middle of a large field. I discovered back at home that this week is wild turkey hunting week. Hunting is banned from June 1 to September 30, so until then we will have to stay a little closer to home.
But our little idyll behind the home is providing endless hours of nature education and fun for the kids and adults alike. A cool stream, garden snakes, climbing trees, smart coyotes and a hole-in-the-hen-house fence (stolen eggs, the evidence left brazenly behind the fence), old bleached bones, swimming water-spiders, and evening fires are filling the days. As the weather warms I hope the kids discover the joy that the freedom of the forest and the freedom from adult eyes and ears can give.
Saturday, 25 April 2020
2020 Quarantine - week 6
At dinner last night, James and I were discussing how, aside from the terrible reason why the quarantine exists, we actually are quite at peace with our new rhythm. Being blessed with a large house, a big backyard and conservation land behind us certainly contributes. I have a good friend who is a single mom with her 12 year old son and 4 year old daughter in a one-bedroom apartment. While they do the best they can, she expresses often how challenging it is to be on top of each other all the time.
Other than James weekly trip for groceries and our weekly game of Car-dines, we really don't leave the neighbourhood. We have now made 3 birthday runs (where we drive over to the celebrant's home, honk loudly, hang out "Bonne fete" sign out the window and shout best wishes as loudly as we can). Juliette talks non-stop about her birthday coming up in June, alternating between being distraught to have to celebrate in quarantine, and excited to plan in case it's over. A birthday in quarantine for a child certainly must feel like a tragedy. A whole year is entirely too long to wait for another birthday. We will likely designate a second birthday for Juliette if necessary, but something tells me it just won't be the same.
This week has been filled new-found pastimes and much creativity. Caleb and Ben have created two dozen flip books - hand drawn animations full of baseball pitchers and ninjas and curly lines and bouncing balls. Juliette is leading her two cousins, Sienna and Kendall, in forming a band. They have been hard at work writing songs, planning outfits, selling out concerts, building props and sets, and all around dreaming as a 7 year old does. Colin has created a new YouTube channel with original animations and artwork, aimed at telling funny anecdotes and stories.
Ben, Juliette and I decided to explore further in the conservation land behind us, only to discover that it is actually private land when we happened upon the owner. Nerves quickly gave way to cabin-fever as we let our desire for human connection and conversation melt away the fear created by the current situation. As his two daughter and my two children romped in the fresh spring and chatted with their chickens, our new found neighbours shared the short version of the story of their lives. They are two characters worthy of a beautiful little Swedish short story. (Swedish, I write, because currently I'm reading my second Swedish novel that has such a beautiful way of telling a story about characters who have an unusual spark to them.) As always happens in the Orangeville and surrounding area, we discovered a connection (their daughters attend the school James teaches at, and their oldest will be in grade 3 next year - having a 50/50 chance of being in James' classroom).
In a time of repetitive routines, small pleasures have gained great value. Yesterday during movie night, our doorbell rang. It took a minute for the sound to register before we all jumped up. As we opened the door, we saw two girls from our best friends, the Lalondes, standing there awkwardly. This is a family with whom we never use the doorbell, and only really knock to announce that we are opening the door and entering anyway. They held out a package and two brightly painted rocks. We held out our hands, and then, as the current situation dictates, we both awkwardly stepped back. "Here," they said quickly, and put it down on the step. We reached out to gather the gifts. "Wait!" I shouted and rushed to find a Harry Potter puzzle we had finished and knew they would enjoy. The same strange exchange ensued, me placing the puzzle like an offering to a king and them snatching it up. We thanked them and closed the door, wondering where their car was as they walked away. We then heard a strange knocking on the back windows, and another peek out the door revealed their youngest daughter staring from behind a tree. A text later in the evening revealed that there had been some sort of plan evolving in the car on the way over to knock on windows and scare us, but the timing of everything had fallen apart. What is amazing is the pure delight we felt from the gift, the surprise, and the comedy of it all. Small pleasures with great value.
All four children have declared that if they could only see their friends now and then, they actually much prefer this new lifestyle. There is little grumbling from the older two about schoolwork as they diligently and independently complete their tasks. Caleb says he absolutely loves this new format and is not looking forward to spending 6 1/2 hours a day at school and losing the time he has found to develop his own interests and talents. Colin is a take-it-or-leave-it kind of kid. When he has a passion, he's very focused and driven. I would love to find for him an adult mentor/teacher who inspires him even further. Ben would rather give up school altogether. He's a smart kid who loves to learn but again, driven toward his own interests. I think a big outdoor project would be the perfect curriculum for him. Juliette is more of a mystery. She is smart as a whip and is the kid who always has her hand up first in class to answer the question. She is blowing our minds every time she takes a turn to read from scripture: there's barely a word that stumps her even in the old English language. The work she is getting from her teacher is easy and boring. She understands new concepts really quickly. But I don't see a natural affinity for learning like I do in the other three boys. Ironically, the one child I have who really thrives in the public school format actually doesn't seem to desire the fruit of education yet.
The most strange thing to see when we do venture out in the car is to observe the neatly spaced lines of people standing outside grocery stores and banks. Limits on the numbers of people allowed inside mean that you must cue up outside, spaced 6 feet apart, and wait for your turn to enter. James doesn't have the patience or time to wait (I would have even less) and so we don't engage. But it does feel like something out of a sci-fi movie or dystopian short story. Canadians are notoriously patient people, and Orangeville during the quarantine is no exception. People seem to accept the requirement to shiver in the cold April wind, appropriately distanced from each other.
Again, I feel the need to reiterate that it all feels just a fraction off of normal. I'm not sure if living history always feels this way, that it's just regular life for us. I wonder if when my great grandchildren ask me one day about living through the quarantine, I'll shrug my shoulders and say there wasn't much to it.
Other than James weekly trip for groceries and our weekly game of Car-dines, we really don't leave the neighbourhood. We have now made 3 birthday runs (where we drive over to the celebrant's home, honk loudly, hang out "Bonne fete" sign out the window and shout best wishes as loudly as we can). Juliette talks non-stop about her birthday coming up in June, alternating between being distraught to have to celebrate in quarantine, and excited to plan in case it's over. A birthday in quarantine for a child certainly must feel like a tragedy. A whole year is entirely too long to wait for another birthday. We will likely designate a second birthday for Juliette if necessary, but something tells me it just won't be the same.
This week has been filled new-found pastimes and much creativity. Caleb and Ben have created two dozen flip books - hand drawn animations full of baseball pitchers and ninjas and curly lines and bouncing balls. Juliette is leading her two cousins, Sienna and Kendall, in forming a band. They have been hard at work writing songs, planning outfits, selling out concerts, building props and sets, and all around dreaming as a 7 year old does. Colin has created a new YouTube channel with original animations and artwork, aimed at telling funny anecdotes and stories.
Ben, Juliette and I decided to explore further in the conservation land behind us, only to discover that it is actually private land when we happened upon the owner. Nerves quickly gave way to cabin-fever as we let our desire for human connection and conversation melt away the fear created by the current situation. As his two daughter and my two children romped in the fresh spring and chatted with their chickens, our new found neighbours shared the short version of the story of their lives. They are two characters worthy of a beautiful little Swedish short story. (Swedish, I write, because currently I'm reading my second Swedish novel that has such a beautiful way of telling a story about characters who have an unusual spark to them.) As always happens in the Orangeville and surrounding area, we discovered a connection (their daughters attend the school James teaches at, and their oldest will be in grade 3 next year - having a 50/50 chance of being in James' classroom).
In a time of repetitive routines, small pleasures have gained great value. Yesterday during movie night, our doorbell rang. It took a minute for the sound to register before we all jumped up. As we opened the door, we saw two girls from our best friends, the Lalondes, standing there awkwardly. This is a family with whom we never use the doorbell, and only really knock to announce that we are opening the door and entering anyway. They held out a package and two brightly painted rocks. We held out our hands, and then, as the current situation dictates, we both awkwardly stepped back. "Here," they said quickly, and put it down on the step. We reached out to gather the gifts. "Wait!" I shouted and rushed to find a Harry Potter puzzle we had finished and knew they would enjoy. The same strange exchange ensued, me placing the puzzle like an offering to a king and them snatching it up. We thanked them and closed the door, wondering where their car was as they walked away. We then heard a strange knocking on the back windows, and another peek out the door revealed their youngest daughter staring from behind a tree. A text later in the evening revealed that there had been some sort of plan evolving in the car on the way over to knock on windows and scare us, but the timing of everything had fallen apart. What is amazing is the pure delight we felt from the gift, the surprise, and the comedy of it all. Small pleasures with great value.
All four children have declared that if they could only see their friends now and then, they actually much prefer this new lifestyle. There is little grumbling from the older two about schoolwork as they diligently and independently complete their tasks. Caleb says he absolutely loves this new format and is not looking forward to spending 6 1/2 hours a day at school and losing the time he has found to develop his own interests and talents. Colin is a take-it-or-leave-it kind of kid. When he has a passion, he's very focused and driven. I would love to find for him an adult mentor/teacher who inspires him even further. Ben would rather give up school altogether. He's a smart kid who loves to learn but again, driven toward his own interests. I think a big outdoor project would be the perfect curriculum for him. Juliette is more of a mystery. She is smart as a whip and is the kid who always has her hand up first in class to answer the question. She is blowing our minds every time she takes a turn to read from scripture: there's barely a word that stumps her even in the old English language. The work she is getting from her teacher is easy and boring. She understands new concepts really quickly. But I don't see a natural affinity for learning like I do in the other three boys. Ironically, the one child I have who really thrives in the public school format actually doesn't seem to desire the fruit of education yet.
The most strange thing to see when we do venture out in the car is to observe the neatly spaced lines of people standing outside grocery stores and banks. Limits on the numbers of people allowed inside mean that you must cue up outside, spaced 6 feet apart, and wait for your turn to enter. James doesn't have the patience or time to wait (I would have even less) and so we don't engage. But it does feel like something out of a sci-fi movie or dystopian short story. Canadians are notoriously patient people, and Orangeville during the quarantine is no exception. People seem to accept the requirement to shiver in the cold April wind, appropriately distanced from each other.
Again, I feel the need to reiterate that it all feels just a fraction off of normal. I'm not sure if living history always feels this way, that it's just regular life for us. I wonder if when my great grandchildren ask me one day about living through the quarantine, I'll shrug my shoulders and say there wasn't much to it.
Saturday, 18 April 2020
2020 Quarantine - week 5
There is a rhythm that has developed in our home. I am daily astonished at how regular the routine seems. I always have this haunting yet excitable feeling that we will look back in 20 years and only then understand just how strange this whole experience was.
Juliette continues to struggle without a playmate. By the end of the day she devolves into tears. She has no one to play with. The boys don't like her games. She wishes she had a sister. She wishes she could see her friends. She has never developed the ability to play alone, a little surprising since she has never had friends close enough by to play with all the time. She asks why God sent covid, why the world has to be the way it is. She ponders over big ideas for a seven year old.
It only took one week for Colin to work out a schedule for himself. After the first week, Colin found himself with a pile of assignments due that same day. He pushed through to finish, but it provided the opportunity for he and I to discuss time management and the benefit of calendaring. We mounted a whiteboard in his room for him to track assignments for the week, and a simple checklist to make sure everything got done in time. Since then he's managed each day. I check in just to make sure he's on top of it, but so far all goes well. He may not get a lot of curriculum covered through online learning, but his work skills will benefit greatly.
The monstrous media has been rearing it's ugly head. Having grown up with little access to TV or video games, and having developed a healthy sense of creativity as a result, it's always on my mind in raising my children. It's not that I want to control every minute, but I want to make sure that my kids have large blocks of uninterrupted time for both boredom and its progeny, creativity. We have had several iterations of the media schedule, but this week's seems to be the most successful. They get 30 minutes of "junk food media" before 9am - whatever their little hearts desire. Between 9 and noon screens are used for learning: online classes, school work, or independent projects and learning. From noon until after dinner the screens are off, no questions. This is where it used to creep in before. "Can I use it to look up a song? Do a drawing? See a photo?" Find another way, is my mantra now. Finally, in the evenings, we alternate between a board game night, movie night, or video game night as a family. I'm always in awe of my children's compliance. It isn't a compliance from fear or threat of consequence. They seem to genuinely respond to my laying out the logic behind our decisions.
After 2 weeks of online teaching I have about 90% participation rate. 90%! I expected about 20%. And more than that, I'm having large participation numbers from students who previously had given me little to nothing in class. Students who used to duck out, misbehave, or simply choose not to complete work are putting in a lot of time with my learning choice boards. It's making me reflect on the reasons. My in-person classroom is generally engaging and low-pressure. I teach through songs, games and stories. I never force output from students. Something about online learning is making some students struggle, but others thrive.
James is still the only one who leaves the house, to get groceries twice a week (once for us, and once for his mother). We dart out once a week for our game of Car-dines. It's fun to see friends from a distance and strange all at the same time. It's the illusion of connection, but at once really nothing more than a tease. We shout a few ongoings from our lives between cars, straining to listen in the wind and over the children equally shouting at their friends.
It is easy to forget about the traumatic part of all this. Drastic change leaves an imprint on our lives, and yet because this change is masquerading as normalcy it's difficult to put a finger on what to gently correct as a parent and what needs nurtured healing. It's difficult to know if any of our mood swings should be checked or tolerated. As if mocking the situation, the weather in April has returned to a wintry wonderland of blowing snow and minus 10 temperatures. It leaves us without the desire to get outside much. Reading by the fire is fine, but by mid-April our habits of hibernation have grown tiresome. Trauma has also paralyzed me a little bit in that I could be doing a great many projects around the house - organizing, creating, building, designing - and yet I don't seem to find the minutes in the days. I try to remember that coping mechanisms are about survival, and perhaps my body subconsciously knows it cannot handle the stress of the mental output.
Our community theatre production of Matilda, in which I was musical director and Benjamin and Juliette had roles, has finally been postponed to next season. Soccer and baseball are both playing a "wait and see" game. School is being cancelled two weeks at a time, currently until May13 but who really knows. It is the constant state of not-knowing that taxes me most. We don't have the ability to see what the next few months are really going to look like, to make plans, to wrap our heads around it.
Juliette continues to struggle without a playmate. By the end of the day she devolves into tears. She has no one to play with. The boys don't like her games. She wishes she had a sister. She wishes she could see her friends. She has never developed the ability to play alone, a little surprising since she has never had friends close enough by to play with all the time. She asks why God sent covid, why the world has to be the way it is. She ponders over big ideas for a seven year old.
It only took one week for Colin to work out a schedule for himself. After the first week, Colin found himself with a pile of assignments due that same day. He pushed through to finish, but it provided the opportunity for he and I to discuss time management and the benefit of calendaring. We mounted a whiteboard in his room for him to track assignments for the week, and a simple checklist to make sure everything got done in time. Since then he's managed each day. I check in just to make sure he's on top of it, but so far all goes well. He may not get a lot of curriculum covered through online learning, but his work skills will benefit greatly.
The monstrous media has been rearing it's ugly head. Having grown up with little access to TV or video games, and having developed a healthy sense of creativity as a result, it's always on my mind in raising my children. It's not that I want to control every minute, but I want to make sure that my kids have large blocks of uninterrupted time for both boredom and its progeny, creativity. We have had several iterations of the media schedule, but this week's seems to be the most successful. They get 30 minutes of "junk food media" before 9am - whatever their little hearts desire. Between 9 and noon screens are used for learning: online classes, school work, or independent projects and learning. From noon until after dinner the screens are off, no questions. This is where it used to creep in before. "Can I use it to look up a song? Do a drawing? See a photo?" Find another way, is my mantra now. Finally, in the evenings, we alternate between a board game night, movie night, or video game night as a family. I'm always in awe of my children's compliance. It isn't a compliance from fear or threat of consequence. They seem to genuinely respond to my laying out the logic behind our decisions.
After 2 weeks of online teaching I have about 90% participation rate. 90%! I expected about 20%. And more than that, I'm having large participation numbers from students who previously had given me little to nothing in class. Students who used to duck out, misbehave, or simply choose not to complete work are putting in a lot of time with my learning choice boards. It's making me reflect on the reasons. My in-person classroom is generally engaging and low-pressure. I teach through songs, games and stories. I never force output from students. Something about online learning is making some students struggle, but others thrive.
James is still the only one who leaves the house, to get groceries twice a week (once for us, and once for his mother). We dart out once a week for our game of Car-dines. It's fun to see friends from a distance and strange all at the same time. It's the illusion of connection, but at once really nothing more than a tease. We shout a few ongoings from our lives between cars, straining to listen in the wind and over the children equally shouting at their friends.
It is easy to forget about the traumatic part of all this. Drastic change leaves an imprint on our lives, and yet because this change is masquerading as normalcy it's difficult to put a finger on what to gently correct as a parent and what needs nurtured healing. It's difficult to know if any of our mood swings should be checked or tolerated. As if mocking the situation, the weather in April has returned to a wintry wonderland of blowing snow and minus 10 temperatures. It leaves us without the desire to get outside much. Reading by the fire is fine, but by mid-April our habits of hibernation have grown tiresome. Trauma has also paralyzed me a little bit in that I could be doing a great many projects around the house - organizing, creating, building, designing - and yet I don't seem to find the minutes in the days. I try to remember that coping mechanisms are about survival, and perhaps my body subconsciously knows it cannot handle the stress of the mental output.
Our community theatre production of Matilda, in which I was musical director and Benjamin and Juliette had roles, has finally been postponed to next season. Soccer and baseball are both playing a "wait and see" game. School is being cancelled two weeks at a time, currently until May13 but who really knows. It is the constant state of not-knowing that taxes me most. We don't have the ability to see what the next few months are really going to look like, to make plans, to wrap our heads around it.
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