Playing teacher these past 5 weeks (minus one, since Spring Break did happen somewhere in there) has taught me a lot.
I remember the basics from government–thank goodness.
I know the names of most shapes–again, phew.
I struggle with keeping children focused–this is a given, seeing as though I can’t even keep myself focused (I even put fun stained glass window clings on our front windows so I would stop staring at and judging our neighbors for NOT social distancing. Now I just stare and think, “ooh, rainbows”).
I am awful at defining words.
I know words. And now I sound an idiot. “Hey, look at me, I know something!” While I know the definition of words, I have a hard time putting that into words. For example: “Mom, what does generalize mean?” “It means. To make a general statement. Big picture. You know.”
Blank stare of confusion. You obviously don’t know.
I have been put on the spot to play human dictionary multiple times this week. “What does multiple mean?”
This was often an issue I struggled with in school. Don’t ask me to write down the definition of words, because you’re going to get a bunch of nonsense. I just know what it means, and let that be good enough. For me…but when you’re supposed to be assisting a 9 year old with his science, and you can’t spit out a definition that is helpful, well, go ahead and hang up your teaching hat–you’re failing.
Also, it is really frustrating to try and teach tiny human version of me. I would like to apologize to every teacher in the history of my education who had to deal with my slow, meticulous, daydreamy way of learning. There are 5 weeks left of school; I’ll be lucky if Xander finishes in 10…months.
Sorry for the distractibility gene. ADD is a bitch.
My goal for Coronapocalypse was to be better about writing every day. The problem with that is my world went from “pretty darn uneventful,” to “what day is it!?” These are weird times.
Also, March has been the month that kept on giving. We started with what seemed like the potential for good–after 18 years, the “war” in Afghanistan might actually come to and end. NYS had its first coronavirus case, and Washington state had announced its second Covid-related death. Way back then, life was still mostly normal.
Now we can sing, what a difference a month makes. 31 super long, painful days.
Of course, it would only be fitting for a month that started with potential (and slowly–no, rapidly–snowballed out of control), to end with me receiving a Tornado Watch alert. Not as bad as a Tornado warning, but certainly worse than the daily pollen alert I receive.
There are so many interesting aspects of living in the south. Fifteen years ago, I stood out like a sore thumb. At my very first job in Georgia, after being asked where I was from, I was then asked, “are you gonna speak Yank to us?” I guess I can try? I’ve never been good a picking up foreign languages.
One of the “interesting in a bad way” aspects can be the extreme weather. While we don’t have snow days, we did have a “flash flood day,” way back in February. Picture white-out conditions, but with rain and flooding. So much flooding.
Alabama isn’t part of “Tornado Alley,” but it is located in “Dixie Alley,” which I didn’t realize was actually a thing. Dixie Alley is known for a different style of tornado. The wetter style, I guess. My children are professional Tornado siren experts. In 2015, a tornado touched down less than a mile from our house in KY, and the second that siren went off, they curled into little balls on the floor, tucking their hands over their heads. “Come on, Mom! get on the floor like this!” Yeah, I thought the on-post fire department was just being overly cautious…until we drove past the uprooted trees. Oops, I guess tornados are serious.
Our Tornado Plan consists of everyone cramming into a 6’x4′ bathroom. 4 humans, 2 boxers, a pug, and 3 cats. Yes, it will be a wonderful bonding experience. Thus far, we have yet to activate the tornado plan, although there have been moments when the kids were ready (Shea even packed a bag full of stuffed animals, and had to be reminded we would barely have room for the living creatures). Shea believes the best way to increase our space, is to make use of the under sink cabinet–cat storage, if you will. At one point I believe it was suggested that Justin could join them, but since he isn’t even flexible enough for child’s pose, I don’t think it’s going to be possible to get him into a space 4 feet wide by 2 feet deep…and only 3 feet tall. We haven’t tried cramming him in there, but logistically speaking, I don’t think it’s going to be possible.
Our Tailless Trio: Rufus, Emma, and Nebula
Our pug, Bruce, is 14 years old, and poops if you scare him. Awesome defense mechanism. I’m sure it will really go over well in our confined quarters. Rufus, has no concept of personal space, which I’m sure will be the perfect trait for Sardine Can Bathroom. Emma gets extremely bouncy when she’s excited. Or if Justin acknowledges her presence. Picture Tigger, in a bathroom, with too many individuals. Then sprinkle in 3 cats, and keep in mind that two of them are frequently tormented by the boxers; the third cat has no tail, and therefore is just like the boxers…I guess?
31 days ago, we were still planning for Spring Break; it has now come and gone, Social-Distancing-style. March 1 began 734 hours ago, but if you ask anyone, they’d probably tell you it has felt like 734 days. Instead of school days and weekends, we have school-at-home days and the 2 days a week you have no rules. Well, limited rules.
Two more hours until this Tornado Watch is lifted. I will watch it touch down before attempting to cram anyone in the bathroom.
When you live just west of the Chattahoochee, chances are you live in the crazy Eastern/Central limbo we inhabit. Our newspaper comes out of Georgia, Justin works in Georgia…well, that’s not really true. Fort Benning is a little bit in Georgia; a little bit in Alabama; a lotta bit a world unto itself. 95% of our shopping takes place on the east side of the Hooch (sorry Alabama–I have yet to embrace Rainbow Foods). It’s just the way it is.
A majority of time, it makes no difference. Who cares what side of that dirty river Alan Jackson sang about, we’re on.
Until, of course, Coronapocalypse came to Earth and said, “hey, wanna see something crazy?!” Now, suddenly, it’s all about what side of the river you land on.
Last night I received a notification from our local newspaper (out of Georgia). The governor of Georgia had announced that schools will now be closed through April 24th. Hmm…further down the article, it tells me what I need to know: Governor Ivey has cancelled the rest of the school year.
Hold up. Excuse me?! Can we just take a minute and think about this?!
I am not a teacher. I am not pro-homeschool. I am not prepared for this!!! Furthermore, no one seems to know just how this is going to work. Thus far, my children’s learning has taken place via a 40-60 page packet of school work (half of which I know Xander has previously done for homework. You’re fooling no one, 3rd grade packet).
These are wild and crazy times. I don’t want to go out into the world and I certainly don’t want to send my children back to school. As of right now, our county has 1 case, and the neighboring Alabama county has 47. Alabama is still relatively low on the list of positive cases in the country. This state has 1/4 the population of NYS. But, do you know who doesn’t care about your state’s population?? Covid-19. Way back, 13 days ago, NYS had roughly the same number of cases that Alabama has right now. At this exact moment, New York state has more positive cases than France and the UK combined. By tomorrow, the number will have increased again. That’s the wild and crazy thing about exponential growth.
I am not ready to find out what this disease will do as it works its way across Rural America. Yes, it’s destroying large cities, but large cities also have doctors and hospitals. There are towns in Alabama where they can’t even afford to pave roads–doctors are not nearby. What happens to these people.
I have stockpiled a good amount of alcohol–which is weird for a person who hasn’t consumed alcohol since July (No, I’m not a recovering alcoholic or anything like that–I just don’t drink. Although, I might start attending online AA meetings: GRANT ME THE SERENITY TO GET THROUGH THIS ).
Alabama will decide what to do with this school year by April 6–how they plan on educating roughly a million children, so they can move on to the next grade. That is the moment when we can really kick our panic into high gear.
I’m going to go make myself a Malibu and Pineapple smoothie, and spend the next 8 hours drinking it (I’m a seriously cheap date). And I’m going to ignore the impending doom that is my children’s education!!!
