Quarantine coping
It's hard enough for me to understand the contours of this global pandemic. I think it's even harder for the kids. I've heard them putting it into games of tag:
kids: If you get tagged, then you have the Coronavirus and you die.
Sheesh.
Or they've tried making it personal:
Audrey: If the Coronavirus was a person, I would be really angry at them.
me: Why's that?
Audrey: Because why did it have to happen now? Over my birthday and Sean's birthday, and Easter, and our trip to Disney World?
Tears come in the most unexpected places.
One night when I thought they were all asleep, I went to the top of the stairs to turn off the hallway light. The moment I did it, I heard both girls asking me to turn it back on. They had been laying there for over an hour, not sleeping, and when I spoke to them, they each teared up.
Audrey: I'm just really sad that we're not going back to school.
Frankie: I just can't go to sleep. I keep trying, and I'm tired, but I can't fall asleep.
Yesterday Sean cried because I asked him to put away the box of crackers, to wait to have a snack. I was in the midst of making the popcorn he asked for 5 minutes earlier.
This week has been particularly hard because the big celebrations in the month are complete: Sean turned 11, Audrey turned 9, we had an infusion of Easter candy and celebrations. With all of it behind us, we are now back, nose to the grindstone, distance learning on computers, zoom and google hangouts with classmates, and the children are weary. I'm weary. There's seemingly no end in sight.
Part of the pain of this quarantine is not being able to see and hug loved ones. We give hugs within our own home, but as we grow tired of each other, we have to remind ourselves to keep getting those hugs, even when you feel annoyed.
Today Frankie just stopped working. She's been letting me down easy each morning: I get her worksheets out for her, she placates me by doing one or two, then wandering away when I'm not looking. Each day she's done less and less of her school work, until finally this morning she flat out refused, and I could see the storm clouds gathering in her eyes and forehead. She told me that this was the hardest math worksheet she'd ever been given and it wasn't fair to do that without being able to see her teacher. We sent a video message to her teacher through Marco Polo, explaining what a tough spot she was in, telling her teacher how much she wished she could see her, how this math work seemed too hard. Her shoulders drooped, her face downcast, her thumb sucking taking no breaks.
A couple minutes later, Frankie's Kindergarten teacher called my phone. She asked to FaceTime with Frankie, and within a couple minutes, we had the computer on, staring face to face with her teacher. Frankie clammed up, she hid in my shoulder, not wanting to say anything to her teacher. I hugged her tight.
Teacher: You know what, Frankie? Your mom is giving you the hugs that I would give you if I was there. I just love you. I'm so proud of you.
Frankie eased her grip on my shoulders and turned half her face towards the screen, not wanting to commit to a full face gaze.
Teacher: I'm so glad you left me that Marco Polo message, because I was thinking that math worksheet might be hard for a lot of you. Could you show me what you're working on? Maybe we can sit here together and talk in through. What page are you working on?
Frankie's face changed from storm clouds to overcast, she took a deep breath and she picked up the page she stormed away from earlier. Frankie's teacher seamlessly walked her through each problem, encouraging her, asking questions to get Frankie talking, reminding Frankie of things they'd done in class together, building her up and restoring her to a confident, engaged 6 year old student. The overcast cleared to partly sunny skies, and I saw her wheels turning as she got through each problem.
I floated between the other children in the house who needed assistance, but kept one ear out for the FaceTime conversation. Every once in a while, I'd hear an exclamation from the iPad.
Teacher: Well, you are so smart, Frankie! You got that one right! You know this. I knew you could do it!
With each effusive outburst, my eyes filled with tears. Thank goodness for this woman - she turned our week around. She knew exactly what to say to release Frankie from the grips of self-doubt, despair, and fear of getting it wrong. She walked her through to the other side, and Frankie sat up taller, flipped her hair back over her shoulders, and twirled her pencil, enjoying the learning with her teacher.
Yes, getting through the math worksheet was an accomplishment, but I think the larger boost to my day and Frankie's was the virtual hug. Getting a hug from me when I'm the one sitting there trying to explain math problems to you, and you're having none of it? That hug is worthwhile, but the virtual hug from her teacher, the added moment of building her up from another voice that's not my own. She needed that today. Without her classmates and friends, school routine, and social outlet, she needs these extra hugs and reassurances. We all do. Today her teacher provided that for her, and I know she'll have a better week because of it.
kids: If you get tagged, then you have the Coronavirus and you die.
Sheesh.
Or they've tried making it personal:
Audrey: If the Coronavirus was a person, I would be really angry at them.
me: Why's that?
Audrey: Because why did it have to happen now? Over my birthday and Sean's birthday, and Easter, and our trip to Disney World?
Tears come in the most unexpected places.
One night when I thought they were all asleep, I went to the top of the stairs to turn off the hallway light. The moment I did it, I heard both girls asking me to turn it back on. They had been laying there for over an hour, not sleeping, and when I spoke to them, they each teared up.
Audrey: I'm just really sad that we're not going back to school.
Frankie: I just can't go to sleep. I keep trying, and I'm tired, but I can't fall asleep.
Yesterday Sean cried because I asked him to put away the box of crackers, to wait to have a snack. I was in the midst of making the popcorn he asked for 5 minutes earlier.
This week has been particularly hard because the big celebrations in the month are complete: Sean turned 11, Audrey turned 9, we had an infusion of Easter candy and celebrations. With all of it behind us, we are now back, nose to the grindstone, distance learning on computers, zoom and google hangouts with classmates, and the children are weary. I'm weary. There's seemingly no end in sight.
Part of the pain of this quarantine is not being able to see and hug loved ones. We give hugs within our own home, but as we grow tired of each other, we have to remind ourselves to keep getting those hugs, even when you feel annoyed.
Today Frankie just stopped working. She's been letting me down easy each morning: I get her worksheets out for her, she placates me by doing one or two, then wandering away when I'm not looking. Each day she's done less and less of her school work, until finally this morning she flat out refused, and I could see the storm clouds gathering in her eyes and forehead. She told me that this was the hardest math worksheet she'd ever been given and it wasn't fair to do that without being able to see her teacher. We sent a video message to her teacher through Marco Polo, explaining what a tough spot she was in, telling her teacher how much she wished she could see her, how this math work seemed too hard. Her shoulders drooped, her face downcast, her thumb sucking taking no breaks.
A couple minutes later, Frankie's Kindergarten teacher called my phone. She asked to FaceTime with Frankie, and within a couple minutes, we had the computer on, staring face to face with her teacher. Frankie clammed up, she hid in my shoulder, not wanting to say anything to her teacher. I hugged her tight.
Teacher: You know what, Frankie? Your mom is giving you the hugs that I would give you if I was there. I just love you. I'm so proud of you.
Frankie eased her grip on my shoulders and turned half her face towards the screen, not wanting to commit to a full face gaze.
Teacher: I'm so glad you left me that Marco Polo message, because I was thinking that math worksheet might be hard for a lot of you. Could you show me what you're working on? Maybe we can sit here together and talk in through. What page are you working on?
Frankie's face changed from storm clouds to overcast, she took a deep breath and she picked up the page she stormed away from earlier. Frankie's teacher seamlessly walked her through each problem, encouraging her, asking questions to get Frankie talking, reminding Frankie of things they'd done in class together, building her up and restoring her to a confident, engaged 6 year old student. The overcast cleared to partly sunny skies, and I saw her wheels turning as she got through each problem.
I floated between the other children in the house who needed assistance, but kept one ear out for the FaceTime conversation. Every once in a while, I'd hear an exclamation from the iPad.
Teacher: Well, you are so smart, Frankie! You got that one right! You know this. I knew you could do it!
With each effusive outburst, my eyes filled with tears. Thank goodness for this woman - she turned our week around. She knew exactly what to say to release Frankie from the grips of self-doubt, despair, and fear of getting it wrong. She walked her through to the other side, and Frankie sat up taller, flipped her hair back over her shoulders, and twirled her pencil, enjoying the learning with her teacher.
Yes, getting through the math worksheet was an accomplishment, but I think the larger boost to my day and Frankie's was the virtual hug. Getting a hug from me when I'm the one sitting there trying to explain math problems to you, and you're having none of it? That hug is worthwhile, but the virtual hug from her teacher, the added moment of building her up from another voice that's not my own. She needed that today. Without her classmates and friends, school routine, and social outlet, she needs these extra hugs and reassurances. We all do. Today her teacher provided that for her, and I know she'll have a better week because of it.
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