thegoditwasbuiltfor

[thegoditwasbuiltfor]

Homeschooling

I first became a parent 16 years ago, in 2004.  When I was considering all the avenues available to benefit my parental style, I had briefly considered homeschooling, among other decisions such as only feeding my baby non-packaged foods I had prepared myself and using cloth diapers.  Like most parents, I was ambitious and wanted the best for my baby, and I was willing to jump through incredibly tiny, flaming hoops to make that happen.  However, as I went week by week, month by month with my eldest child through the stages of infancy, I quickly realized that some decisions, unlike others, were big steps in completely different directions, and many of these choices were unnecessarily exorbitant.

Lo and behold, I didn’t feed my baby only non-packaged foods (and I couldn’t have even if I wanted to; she didn’t particularly prefer my homemade foods to the ones that came in jars and boxes), I didn’t use cloth diapers, and I decided early on that homeschooling was for parents who had the privilege of staying home, which I did not.  It wasn’t that I considered any of those choices impossible to make happen, or even that I didn’t consider myself one of “those” kinds of parents--I did, and I do.  But the truth is, some things were just too difficult to make happen, and in some cases would have been detrimental to my finances and daily routine.  Long story short, I made the less-popular choice to favour my time and money.  Go ahead and call me an asshole.

For almost a decade, and two more kids later, the basic system of frugality and time-saving I had created for my family’s day-to-day life was working efficiently, like a well-oiled machine.  The kids had a routine that included going to daycare, before-and-after, and/or school.  And for the duration of the decade, my kids excelled in school, easily bringing home A’s and B’s without much trouble.  I can probably count on one hand the number of times I had to sit down and help a kid with homework.

So in 2013, when we were planning my son, I had no reason to think that my system wouldn’t continue to be effective for a further decade.  And when my son was born the following year, I had given less than 10 seconds thought to how his education would begin and end, because public schooling had always worked for us.  I returned to work within the year of his birth (and quit shortly after), I had a great time jumping from one daycare to another, including the part where I had to sue a provider.  By the time my son was in a comfortable childcare facility, the only question left was which of the many schools in the neighbourhood he would attend.

In the end, I let old habits take over.  I made an appointment at the school my eldest daughter had attended to have my son enrolled.  I vividly remember sitting him down at a table full of legos right outside the office as I filled out the paperwork.  I was handed a flyer for a Kindergarten “Meet and Greet” which was held a few weeks later, and we went on our way.  We met with the Kindergarten teacher and several other parents of school-aged children who would be starting at the same time as my boy.  The evening was a success, but of course my system had predictably ensured me of that.

When it was time to start school, my son was nervous (and so was I, does that ever get any easier?), but he marched in like the big boy that he is and didn’t even shed a tear.  He had a great day, and couldn’t wait to go back.  By the end of the week, he was praising his teacher as the greatest human being on Earth.  By the end of the month, half of the kids in his class were his “best friends” and he was thrilled, overall, with his experience.  By the time parent-teacher meetings rolled around in November, he was quite comfortable and knew his way around the place like he had been there his whole life.  His teacher had nothing but good things to tell me about his progress and behaviour.  All was well, as I had always expected it to be.

It was 2019, and we were home over Christmas break, enjoying some much-needed family time and we briefly discussed an illness sweeping through China.  Boy, were we in for a treat.

When school resumed, all went back to normal, and for 2 months, we had no issues.  Sometime before the new year, things were going so smoothly we had even added both swimming on Tuesdays, and Karate on Thursdays to our schedule.  In January, thinking I was ahead of the curve, I signed my son up for two more activities: Soccer in the spring, and Karate Camp over March break.

By February, as everyone in North America already knows, the proverbial shit had hit the fan: SARS-CoV-2 had reached us and was beginning to spread.  It’s spread began slowly, and I had not yet registered the thought that it was coming for Canada.  We went ahead with our daily lives like nothing had changed.  So I remember the confusion and general disbelief in March as the school had sent out letters stating that the government was considering a provincial shutdown of schools just ahead of Spring Break.  Teachers scrambled to put together take-home packages of work, and even though a date was set as the “last day” of school, mid-way through the week, less than half of the kids were showing up, and my son was one of only two students to attend over those last few days.  

I spoke with the other mom and we both agreed to keep our kids home over the remaining days, since no one else would be there, and I went back to the school the next day to pick up a work package.  At that time, the thought of homeschooling my son for a couple of extra weeks felt like child’s play.  I had no issue going over simple words and math, reading, and playing games for a while.  

Eventually Spring Break simply became the end of the school year, children did not reattend at all for the remainder of the year, and some teachers had put together remote learning programs.  Since my son was in Kindergarten, I wasn’t terribly worried about it, I figured everything would be back to normal by the following school year.  For the second time in my carefully-cultivated plan, I was wrong.

We spent our summer in the usual way: trips to the beach, birthdays, playdates, and camping.  We were being cautious and avoided spending time with too many people, but at that time the numbers were still very low.  Back then, everything was still open, people were still coming and going without issue and the spread of Covid simply didn’t exist in my province.  We wore masks and socially distanced when we went out, but the threat of catching the virus was minimal, we had fewer than 10 cases province-wide and no deaths.  And those numbers had held for several months.

By August 2020, our numbers had climbed exponentially and there was no going back.  It was then that my husband spoke to us about being extra careful.  He encouraged me to do as much of my shopping as possible online, and to simply avoid leaving the house at all.  It became clear that we could no longer see our friends, go to the park, have a shopping day at the mall, or even go in-store to buy groceries.  My son and I were shut in, isolated from everyone, and quite suddenly it was like our world had gone dark.  In the coming months, we couldn’t even visit with family, we cancelled Halloween and Christmas, and New years.  But before even those things, the biggest change in both our lives was the sudden realization that he would not be returning to school at all.

August brought not only high numbers of infection, but also the seemingly unavoidable fact that I would be homeschooling my son.  The numbers were getting higher, but the Government of Canada was already tired of shelling out the CERB payment and it was becoming clear that businesses were expected to reopen and children were expected to return to school as if nothing was wrong.  Though the Government was preaching safety, their reopening plan felt very flawed, and by this point I was terrified of anyone in my family getting sick.  I didn’t want to expose my little boy to a virus that would almost certainly kill him, being an asthmatic child, and having a history of being sickly.

I contacted the school in the final weeks of August to ask them what their options were, regarding Covid, and if, like other schools, they were offering some sort of remote learning.  The school informed us that remote learning was reserved for children who were ill and had a doctor’s note, but since I was not leaving the house to get said note, we would not be able to provide this.  I simply decided the best course of action would be to prepare for homeschooling.  I had no idea how to do this, since I had decided some 15 years previous to simply not do it, and I didn’t have a clue where to begin.  Searching up as much information as I could, I found out that registering your child with the government as “homeschooled” was a good first step, so I did that.  I also researched some programs online that would offer curriculum-based education and some books for children in my son’s grade.  

I learned that there is virtually no support, outside of the odd website here and there with a handful of basic assignments or worksheets, for parents who homeschool.  The curriculum was confusing and I had no friends who homeshooled so I didn’t have anyone to ask.  There was no simple answer.  I literally went into this with very little planning, and no idea what the hell I was doing.  I bought a workbook on Amazon and paid for a couple of programs.  At the time, I felt like I had done everything in my power to prepare my son for a successful grade 1 year, and initially still believed that we would return to school within a couple of months.  The “flatten the curve” ideal was nice, and I clung to it, like a drowning person to a life preserver.  For a third time, I was wrong.

By December, we were already running out of work to do, I was out hundreds of dollars for paper, ink, supplies, books, and programs, and I was hitting a wall.  The holidays put me in a terrible place, mentally and emotionally, and I crashed.  I had a breakdown and struggled to hold on to the motivation to continue teaching my son at home.  Though we were still spending the week doing schoolwork, it really felt like we spent most of our days distracted, watching TV, going for short walks, and playing video games.  Lunch break had stretched over those few months from 30 minutes into several hours, some days, and often I would just declare the day dead, and give up.  My son’s motivation was also waning, despite his young age, he simply didn’t have much interest in writing a journal entry or playing one of the learning games I was shelling out a monthly fee for.  

At one point, I decided we would take a month off to enjoy a nice long break, and hit the books hard when we came back.  Our recommencing was soft and bleak, to no surprise.  Even though the work was interesting and full of information, the book was colourful and fun, even though I added a mandatory “Hump Day, Fun Day” each week where we would do a craft or have a scavenger hunt, even though my son’s work was good and showed he was learning--we were just tired.  We were tired of staying home, we were tired of never seeing any of our friends or family, we were tired of just doing the same crap over and over again everyday.  It had become monotonous and exhausting for either of us to keep it up.

By February, we had become resigned to our task and were doing the work involved, and were maybe feeling a bit better, but we weren’t any more enthusiastic about it.  We had finished most of the workbook and were practically spending the whole day reading.  The truth is, my son already has most of the grade 1 skills laid out in the curriculum, so teaching him really wasn’t even difficult.  But by this point, I had accepted that homeschooling, while possible, was not my skillset and I had no intention of continuing this into 2022.  As an old dog, learning this new trick was too difficult.  Even with Covid raging, as it still is now, in March, I have made the difficult decision to go back to an almost-normal life.

Discussing this with my son proved frightening to him, but I told him that the cases in our country really don’t show a lot of little kids getting terribly sick and that I really didn’t think it was a risk for him.  I also decided that part of the issue is the fact that I have never been well-suited to being a stay at home mom, which I have now been doing against my better judgement for most of 7 years.  My son is very attached to me, and I love that, but it was time for him to discover other people and places a while ago, and realizing that Covid is deterring him (and myself) from living a normal life has been a big pill to swallow.  While I still have a great appreciation and understanding of how dangerous this virus is, I decided that my son is returning to school for grade 2 in the fall, and I will be returning to work.  

In the meantime, we are taking small steps to increase our exposure to the world.  We have been isolated for so long that even a simple walk around the block sometimes has us feeling stuffy and unwell the next day, and we have to retrain our immune systems not to overreact to everything outside of our house.  We have resumed seeing one friend and several family members, despite restrictions.  I’m sure some people will consider this inappropriate, and I understand that.  But after everything that has happened over the following year, including several deadly events and a case of Covid for my 87 year old grandmother (whom I could not see or even speak to), I am not losing anymore time with my family.  I am not jumping in with both feet and eyes closed, I am taking careful steps to ensure safety and I am being cautious, still wearing a mask and socially distancing.  But I have decided that this life of loneliness is not okay long-term for me or my son, and I have no intention of living like a hermit crab for the rest of my life, and my son having no friends or outside connections going into his next years of life.  Sorry, but not sorry.

For the first few months, the constant stream of news on my television promised “we will get through this,” and “we will flatten the curve.”  But I have come to the realization that Covid is here to stay.  We didn’t follow the protocols (worldwide) quickly enough to eradicate this illness, and as a result there is no “going back to normal”, we have to accept that this is our “new normal”, as has been stated almost constantly, but I don’t know that everyone is really on the same page as to what that means.  I still see and hear people talking about “when things go back to normal” as if the “new normal” is temporary.  I’m not here writing this shit to convince anyone else, just stating that I am personally decided that I have to go ahead in my own life, and allow my son to go ahead in his, armed with the idea that things will never be like they were before, and that trying to fight this the way we were doing, by literally never seeing anyone or going anywhere, was a great solution for a while and now it’s not.

In closing, I am hopeful of my future, I have plans I want to put into action and I am hoping we are not going to be permanently inconvenienced by Covid, but ultimately, I can’t wait to start living my life again, even with the mask and sanitizer glued to me at all times.  I intend to enjoy the rest of this year, even in small amounts, and I hope everyone else stays safe and does the same.  Understanding that Covid will not be gone anytime soon, even with this vaccine, we have to learn to live in this new life.

[thegoditwasbuiltfor]

My Son Disappeared...

I have a 6 year old boy and he’s full of energy.  He’s funny, quirky, sweet, and gets easily frustrated.  Sometimes he gets mad for no reason and begins to cry.  He can be simultaneously my favourite person and least favourite person, which is quite a feat.  

We were outside yesterday afternoon, it was windy and uncomfortably grey.  Uncle had come by to help daddy cut down some high trees which were threateningly close to the power lines.  I had gotten a text several minutes before asking if I would mind coming outside to help, so I told my boy that his uncle and dad were outside and he jumped up and got his boots and jacket on.  I swear, I’ve never seen him get dressed so quickly, but by the time I had ascended the stairs, he was already outside with the dog.

When I got out to the backyard, prepared with my steel-toed boots, I didn’t realize how cold it was.  We spent a few minutes just chatting with one another, I took a few pulls from my vape, and asked my husband what he wanted me to do.  He asked me to cut some downed trees into logs for firewood, so I went to get the sawzall.  While we had been chatting and working, my son was running around, perfectly happy, oblivious to the chill, playing with the dog and talking to his auntie in joyous tones.  He seemed fine, so I went about my business, only stopping once or twice to remind him to stay in the backyard where I could see him, and at one point, going inside to get him and I some gloves.  

When it was clear that uncle had finished cutting down the trees, I was doing a few practice cuts with the chainsaw and I realized that I could no longer hear my son playing.  Uncle and auntie were preparing to leave, and I called to my boy to come and say goodbye, but he wasn’t responding.  His dad and I joked that he was probably inside playing Minecraft, and his auntie said that she saw him go into the house, so I went inside to find him.  I called out to him, and he didn’t answer, so I walked all around the house, outside and in, calling to him the entire time.  He wouldn’t answer either me or his dad at this point, and I started to panic.  My immediate thought was to check the cameras to see where he had gone off to, and as I was pulling them up on my phone, I also wondered how it was possible that the dog had not noticed if a stranger had approached and (God forbid) taken my son.

As I was looking through the film on the camera, while simultaneously checking every room and floor in my house, his dad called out.  I thought at first he was saying our son’s name.  Then I clearly heard him say, “I’ve found him!”  Our boy hadn’t even left the property, he was simply hiding in a window well on the other side of the house.  We said goodbye to auntie and uncle (although my son refused), and went to the backyard to clean up.  While we were back there, the shock of the situation began to wash over me; I felt nauseated and was almost sick a few times, and as I was carrying logs to a pile along the fence, I began to cry uncontrollably.

I had not expected to feel so physically crippled after this situation.  As a mother, it’s not the first time I’ve faced the prospect of a missing child, my eldest daughter had been missing on several occasions, and my son had once been missing at a very large, unfamiliar provincial park (along with his sister and their cousin) which was bordered on every side by a river.  On the latter occasion, it had taken almost an hour to find them and I had felt terrified then, but at least my little boy had been with his older sister and cousin, two kids who are smart enough to find their way back.

But the idea that my son was lost and alone...it broke me inside.  I had never felt so determined and fearful all at once, and I had never reacted, physically, the way I did yesterday.  We had a pretty normal evening, despite everything.  I did remove his computer privileges for the rest of the evening, and he asked me if he deserved a smack on the bum.  I told him that the shame of what he had put me and his dad through was punishment enough, and it must have been because he went to his room and cried for about 15 minutes afterwards.  He was clearly sorry, and he said so when he came back out of his room.  

It took me at least an hour to get over the anger I felt from his stunt.  He told us later he was hiding from us because he was angry, but when prompted to explain to us why he was angry, he couldn’t say.  I’m not a highly tolerant person, and situations like that are a zero-tolerance policy for me.  And while I didn’t yell or send him to bed, I did tell him, firmly, to never do that again.  I also reminded him that no matter what he does, good or bad, I will always love him.  But that sometimes he needs to ask himself if his actions are okay with him, not me, and if he really felt like he had done the right thing, deep down.