While my weekend has been surprisingly pleasant and I have worked hard to write positive slices over the last several days, I am struggling to do so today. Being at home for the entire weekend is not entirely uncommon, and since we had two busy previous weekends and snow, it was nice to kick back. However, tomorrow this gets real.
Tomorrow, I will not teach.
Tomorrow, my son will not go to school.
Tomorrow, my husband will offer his staff (only one person, but still) the opportunity to work from home, rather than take public transit to work daily.
I don’t feel like Annie much at the moment – “Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love you, tomorrow!”
I feel more like a broken Scarlett O’Hara, half sobbing “tomorrow is another day” before she regains her self-control and determination and declares that she “…will never be hungry again.”
I have made a schedule for tomorrow to make sure that my son gets some time to work on his academic skills, but I am loathe to schedule every minute of his day. He is not a child who transitions well, and unless he is doing exactly what he wants, it takes a lot of work to get him to focus. It’s going to be hard enough to keep him on a schedule for his schoolwork without insisting that he stop drawing because now we are going to do a science project, simply because it is time to do so on Mom’s schedule.
And I have things I need to do too. The house needs a spring cleaning, or even a desperate late winter whip-around, if that’s all I can manage.
I have grading to do, and need to start working out the best ways to streamline teaching for our shortened year so that all of my students get ample opportunities to demonstrate their mastery of the 6th grade standards. Not a moment can be wasted.
I am taking an online course, and I am behind in my classes, since we had a few weeks of personal, rather than international, chaos a few weeks back. I need time to work on the class and think of how to integrate the information into my best practice.
I need some time for self-care. I need to read and knit and forget the world for a bit. I also need some time that is not completely devoured by a bored child who wants a playmate.
I am acutely aware that I am quite privileged, because my teaching cancellations and my son’s school cancellations overlap, and I can be home with him during this crisis with no problem. I am acutely aware that far too many Americans are worrying about how to take care of their kids when they have to work, or how to pay their bills when their workplaces close, or how to feed kids who usually get some, or all, of their meals at school. I am acutely aware that I am powerless to mitigate any of this for them.
I am acutely aware that my parents and stepparents, and my husband’s parents and stepparent, are all over 70, and four of the seven of them are medically fragile.
I am acutely aware that I am far away from all of them.
So, yeah, I am dreading Monday.