I’m sorry, but I can’t.
I’m a teacher.
I’m a National Board Certified Teacher. Twice. Yep- two areas of insanity.
I have a doctorate in District Level Leadership.
Once upon a time, I was an instructional coach.
I’ve taught middle and high school for twenty-five years.
I am computer literate, Google Classroom literate, and technology literate.
Edit: Long rant deleted here.
Rant Summary: For a variety of reasons, I am struggling to oversee this involuntary homeschool thing with my middle schooler.
I am trying.
Really. I am trying.
I’m trying to do the right thing.
I am trying to understand.
I’m trying to hold him accountable and teach him while I attempt to figure out what to do for my own students, because not one single thing I typically do for fourth quarter is going to work. It’s very clear to me that some of his hastily-posted assignments aren’t going to work either.
But we are trying.
My son doesn’t love school even in the good times. He’s not invested, not connected. It seems it’s just not his thing. (I always want to follow that sentence with the word YET. )
He will eventually find his thing, but for now, we must do this thing.
Unfortunately, so far, NOTHING about this has been easy or predictable or dependable or clear or engaging– like I want and expect it to be. Like he needs it to be.
It certainly doesn’t feel enriching.
It feels soul-sucking and relationship draining.
To be honest, it already did, but right now we can’t address it in the neutral territory of a local restaurant, the way we spent many, many afternoons this year before retreating to the safety of home.
I’m trying to keep it in perspective, to continue to offer the grace I have extended in the past, and to persevere anyway.
I am trying to quit should-ing on myself, on him, and (as best I can) on his teachers, and just do what I can where I am with what I have.
Maybe it’s unreasonable to expect anything to be easy right now.
I still want it to be.
So, Dear Reader, if you have endured my entire tantrum, please know– sometimes in this strange new world, when you encounter a blank screen where you expected a student to have done something, it’s not apathy, and it’s not lack of trying. Maybe the child needed the oxygen in that classroom more than you realized. Maybe what clicks for some isn’t clicking for all. That’s no one’s fault.
We are ALL just doing the best that we can.