Tag: Education

With a Little Help from a Stranger

I’ve started running again—or at least, I have started working toward running again. My calves and my tibialis anterior are swollen and angry. I’m almost definitely doing everything wrong.

Sunday night I asked Justin a most serious question: “the whole time you’re running, is your brain just telling you to stop? Like, how do you stop your brain from trying to convince you to stop running??”

“What?? None of that is happening. I’m just thinking 1-2-3, 1-2-3, 1-2-3. The entire time.”

“That’s it?! Oh my gosh, at about :30 in, all I’m thinking is, ‘that’s enough. You can stop now. This wasn’t a smart idea to begin with. You gave it your all. How long has it been? :45?! There’s no way I can keep doing this.’ And on and on, until I eventually give in and stop.”

Another day, another run. I already wasn’t feeling it, but I know me: if I skip one day, that’ll be the end of this…again.

It started just like any other run: 2 minutes of walking, and then away I go. As usual, nothing was really going on. There was a woman walking her dog, and a little grandma walking to the end of the street…with mail??

Suddenly, I was being flagged down. “Excuse me! Can you help me??” This little Italian grandma, in a raccoon sweater was standing in the road, with papers and an iPhone. “Can you help me make a phone call? My daughter left me directions, but I do not know how to make this work. And my real phone isn’t working, so my daughter told me I have to call this number, but it won’t let me make a phone call.”

Psh. Between my two moms, I am a professional when it comes to assisting with what some might consider easy. Making an actual phone call might be the easiest task I have ever been asked to assist with.

“She said type this number in. And then look!? I can’t make a phone call! There’s no keypad! Where do I type in the numbers.”

Easy grandma, one step at a time. I point to the phone icon, and explain she has to click this. “Oh! Ok, now this is the number. I cannot really read it.” As I was about to type the number in, I realized she had obviously made it to this step at least 3 times. The long line of numbers across the phone was proof of that. I deleted, deleted, deleted, until I got down to one phone number.

“Ok. That’s the number—now you just press this button.” I point to it, and let her complete the final step (it’s like with kids—you want them to leave feeling like they accomplished big things). We hit a brick wall.

“See?! It will not let me call! It just says this!” I honestly don’t know what she did, but she lost her button pressing privileges. I backtracked and hit the button, and you would’ve thought Bob Barker just announced that she was the next contestant on The Price is Right!

I continued on my run, having only made it one minute into the damn thing when I got flagged down. For the rest of my run, my brain switched between, “oh my god this is terrible,” and “what the hell was that little old lady going to do if I didn’t run by?? Do you think she was going to flag down a car? Do you think she was going to cross the street and start ringing doorbells until someone answered and helped her with the most impossible task of using an iPhone to make a phone call?!”

On my way back, she was no longer standing at the road, so I’m guessing she managed to contact the phone company.

Word of advice to any children/grandchildren: if you need to assist someone with using a smart phone for the first time in their entire life, do not just write directions on a piece of paper and think they’ll be able to follow along. No matter how large you write the words, and no matter how simple the task is for you, this will most likely be the most difficult task they have to complete all day. Remember: this is the generation that left their VCRs blinking 12:00, because no one could figure out how to set them. They deserve patience and understanding.

I’m adding “patiently assists seniors with iPhone issues” to the skills section of my résumé.

Teach Your Covid Well

We’ve made it all the way to day……oh my gosh, it’s only day 4. I have lost track of how many times I have said, “ok, keep going.” Or, “Xander, where are you??” Shea is much better with the whole schoolwork at home thing. Thank goodness, because I don’t know what I would do if I had to keep two kids on task—I struggle enough with keeping myself on task!

Xander doesn’t love school. He would rather be doing backflips, as stated in the very first school assignment.

Tuesday, he attempted to answer the question, “If I could meet anyone in history, I would meet..” with Naruto. Naruto. An anime character. From history. “Xander, it has to be a real person.”

I have also lost track of the number of times Xander has said, “ohhhhhhhhh!”

This morning, his first assignment was to read a passage about Covid-19, and then answer the questing, “how has your life changed because of Covid-19?” Easy enough. I had to coax a response out of him. But that isn’t the issue.

My issue is the fact that this particular passage about covid contains the absolute nonsensical statement: Older people, not kids, have been getting sick from covid-19. Liar liar pants on fire.

I don’t know where his teacher found this info sheet, and I’m sure most people just read over it and answered the question. The thing is, kids can and do get sick. We’re a solid 5 months into Coronapocalypse: USA Edition, and we all Know kids are not immune. This is not a magical virus that avoids tiny humans. They’re some of the grossest humans on the planet. The American Academy of Pediatrics says there has been a 90% increase in cases among children in the last month! That is the month before southern schools reopened!

Kids need to know why schools aren’t reopening. Or why schools are reopening, only to shut right back down again. Telling them they can’t get sick is confusing. Obviously Xander would be happy if school never reopened, but there are plenty of kids (Shea included), who can’t wait to get back to school.

In the time it took me to write this, Xander was supposed to locate 5 items that are special to him (and that could fit in a paper lunch bag)—he just appeared with a Nerf Bow that is bigger than him. Yes, Xander. That is the perfect sized item.

176 school days to go!!!

Back to School

As a former NYer, August is still summer. It’s still a month away from school. It’s still hot. As a Southerner (I can claim “southern status,” because I’ve lived below the Mason-Dixon line for nearly 1/3 of my life–also, you should hear me drawl), August is the start of the school year. Summer’s over. And it’s disgustingly hot.

This year is like no other. Obviously. That is truly the understatement of the year. Even though I opted to keep my kids doing remote learning for the first quarter, I was grateful that the district decided to start everyone remote, at least for the first month. Which made me less of the bad guy when I informed Shea that she would not be going to middle school.

Xander is more than willing to never go back to school again. He can’t even fully appreciate the laid-back format of Remote Learning with Sammi Steeves. Normally, on the first day of school (or any school day, for that matter), I would have to wake him up at 6, so that he can make it to the bus by 7. Xander likes to hit the Mom Snooze Button, which requires me going into his room every 5 minutes: “are you awake yet? How about now? Xander? Xander?!” Then I sing. Loudly. Operatically. Obnoxiously.

Thanks to remote learning, I don’t start the harassment until 7:30. He would be 30 minutes into an hour-long bus ride by that point, so really, we should all be feeling pretty good about the extra sleep.

Truth be told, my alarm went off at 6:30, and I rolled out of bed and wandered around like low-battery Wall-E for the first 15 minutes. Where’s. The coffee. It isn’t like I don’t already get up between 6 and 6:30, but for some reason my Rufus Alarm didn’t go off this morning. My Rufus Alarm tends to go off some time before Justin leaves for work at 5:30–it’s a lot of snorting loudly in my ear, sniffing my nightstand (which instantly gets me out of bed, because even though he’s never done it, I’m convinced that this is the morning he will steal my glasses), more snorting with a hefty amount of nudging, and then usually he’ll bring me something from dirty laundry–a sock, shorts, a pair of underwear. He’s big on gifting. Sometimes I get a shoe, but rarely is it even mine. On this morning, even Rufus was wanting to sleep through the first day of school (he did bring me a ball of used painter’s tape later in the morning, so I wouldn’t feel forgotten).

Even though everyone was reminded over the past week that school would require getting dressed, there was still a decent amount of complaining. “But, why??” Well, Xander, if you wouldn’t sit top naked in class, I don’t think you should be top naked during google meetings with your classmates.

Then comes the fun part. Fill out an “All About Me” form. Typical first day of school stuff.
“Mom, how do I spell Trampoline.”
“T-R-A-M-P-O-L-I-N-E…Why??”
“My teacher wants to know an area where I need improvement.”
Ladies and gentlemen, we’re a solid 5 minutes into the school day.
“Xander, she means what school subject needs improvement.”
“Ohhhhhhhh!!! All of them.”

By this point, I foolishly assume he has the hang of it, and get back to cleaning out the fridge. Then I hear Shea: “Xander, you can’t put ‘backflips’ under After School Responsibilities.” Ah, yes. While most children are doing homework, or taking out the trash, I obviously require that my children do no less than 10 backflips.

I double-checked the sheet before he submitted it. The child used “backflips” to answer 5 questions, including, “when it comes to learning, my strengths are……” backflips. I fail to see how that is a learning strength, but what do I know–I can’t do a single backflip.

Happy First Day of School!!! Only 179 to go!

Day After Day

School starts next Monday, and while most northern states are still coming up with a game plan, here in the south we had to decide by 17 July: remote learning, or face-to-grimy-face. I asked for opinions from friends and family, but the truth of the matter is, I made my decision back in May, when school ended for the summer.

Of course then I watched as county after county around us put their face-to-germy-face option on the back burner, making all students do remote learning—at least until September. I breathed a sigh of relief.

Even though my kids are locked in to remote learning for the first 9 week, I sure do love to doubt myself. Is this the right decision? Am I being paranoid? Am I going to lose my mind? I believe the answers are Yes, No, and Oh hell yes.

You see, I am not what you would call “organized.” Or good with schedules, or staying on task. And while we had 3 months of practice in the spring, I am not a teacher. I never wanted to be a teacher. I can teach you how to swim, I can teach you how to be a lifeguard…neither of those things dramatically shape a person’s future. I mean, I suppose they do. Congratulations, you no longer have to worry about drowning; hooray, you now have the skills to swim laps for exercise; look at you, completing the requirements for an awesome summer job. But, based on the number of adults I have taught to swim over the last 2 decades, you can survive in the real world without knowing how to tread water or rotary breathe.

So, step one of this adventure was more about me. I am a notorious schedule maker…and breaker. I have spent my years going into every day with a plan: these are the items I need to complete, and this is the time I have to get it done. Ooh wait—should I alphabetize my pasta?!

I have lost track of the number of times Justin has said, “Sammi, I love you. But I wish you could complete one task before moving on to the next.” Hey buddy, I would like to complete one thought before moving on to—squirrel!

Right—step one. For the last month, I have written out a daily schedule and followed through. By week 3 I had even added morning yoga into the mix; by week 4, I was starting each morning with chanting before yoga. And I have swept my house every-single-day. Which most people are probably either thinking “why,” or “so?” Because, and you wouldn’t understand.

I don’t just ride the struggle bus—I am the driver. Everything is draining. If I get overwhelmed by…anything (and I mean anything), I have a tendency to shut down. And by “shut down,” I mean nap. As the driver of this struggle bus, I also know that both of my kids are frequent passengers. If I can’t keep it together, we’re all going suffer.

I don’t want to jinx anything, because I really (truly) am impressed with my ability to finally follow through. But I have a really good feeling about this school year. Do I want to homeschool my kids? Absolutely not. Am I willing to send them back to school, when our state is averaging 16% positivity (and our county has averaged over 20%)? Absolutely not! I can barely manage to convince my son to keep a shirt on all day—in what world do we think kids are going to do about wearing masks at school!?

I’m Stuck in Social-Distancing Prison

And time keeps dragging’ on.

It’s actually not been that bad. I can’t say that time’s moving at a normal rate, but it’s better than the never-ending month that was March.

All over the country, states are making the final decisions on the school year. Alabama was actually one of the first 6 states to make the decision, way back on March 26. Honestly, I had already announced that my children would not be going back this school year. I even went so far as to say I would be willing to go to jail–I don’t know about every state, but in Alabama, if your child has more than 7 unexcused absences in a semester, the parent can be charged with Truancy…and spend up to a year in prison.

Which makes me sound like a rebel. I was willing to do jail time to keep my kids safe.

Of course, then Justin and I were watching a show last night, and there was a scene in a prison bathroom–with 6 toilets placed in the center of a room like a porcelain flower. Justin said, “you couldn’t go to jail.” Nope. Nope nope nope. That is every single one of my nightmares.

I can’t even pee in front of Justin–I certainly wouldn’t be able to in front of strangers! He teases me because, after 15 years I still lock the bathroom every time I go in. But I am not about to have him, or anyone else, bust in on me. My sisters tease me–the man has seen me birth babies. He’s seen me be episiotomized…episiotomied…he watched a German doctor “take garden sheers” to my vagina, in order to extract Shea rapidly. He almost passed out, by the way (Rangers are only tough when they aren’t dealing with blood of their loved ones).

So, the truth of the matter is, I’m grateful schools are closed for the rest of the school year–I wouldn’t last a day in jail. At least this way, I only have to last 23 more days as School Teacher!