There’s a reason I wasn’t a teacher. Not because I don’t love learning, or teaching, or challenging others to new concepts. 

I love all of that, which is why I love reporting: a way to be informative without having to go through the whole actual teaching process and yet end up in the same place — providing information. The reason I’m not a teacher is because I am inherently one of the most impatient people on the planet. 

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I’m a fast-talker. A fast-thinker, and a fast explainer. 

If I ever explain something to you and you don’t get it the first time, I might try a second time, but that’s not a guarantee. Otherwise, google it. I know this is something I should work on, but it’s how I’ve always been… until I had kids. 

With my girls, now 6-years-old and 4-years-old — I try to be very patient. I try to explain things in ways I know they will understand. I repeat. A lot. And I repeat again. 

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I point out seemingly mundane things around us all the time because I know their little minds are thirsting for information everywhere they look, even when they’re not thinking about it. And I love hearing them repeat some random fact I’ve shared with them when they think I’m not listening (“Annabelle, did you know that a group of owls is called a parliament?”). This makes my heart sing. 

But I always feel grateful that I can drop them off at school every morning in the capable hands of their loving and thoughtful teachers and feel reassured that they’re getting exactly the education they need to become smart, social beings who will be the kindest girls on the planet (because that’s who all our kids become, right?). 

These last few days have turned all of that upside down. There’s no more school drop off, no more excited voices in the kitchen telling me about their day, no more, "Mommy look at the work I did and what I got from the treasure chest." There’s just home. And me, the new teacher, struggling to find a new “normal,” a new routine, a new way to be someone I am entirely not comfortable being. 

I have great respect for teachers; I’ve kept in touch with many of mine in my life and every single one of my closest friends are educators. So it’s not like I don’t know that what they’re doing for all of us is amazing. I just didn’t realize HOW amazing until I had to do it myself. 
 

It’s hard! It’s very hard. Since school closed, I’ve been inundated with free online websites (scholastic.com and brainpop.com are offering free online courses because of coronavirus), and I’ve spent late hours at night trying to find appropriate worksheets for my kindergartener and 3k-er on Pinterest, so when I’m out of the house, I know they’ll at least spend some time not watching Frozen 2 and at least try to do something educational. But I am keenly aware of how much my girls like to learn, and how it’s on me now to make sure their needs are met. 

We do our work together either in the morning before work or later in the day when I come home. Sometimes they’re not in the mood for mom the teacher. Sometimes they grow impatient. Sometimes I don’t even know if I’ve chosen the right activity for the moment, and I wonder whether if I should be trying to do cohesive themes rather than the piecemeal topics that I’m in the mood for.

And then there’s the worry. Am I messing this up? Am I messing them up? 

Will my 4-year-old finally say her letters out loud? Learn to say “thing” instead of “fing” as she’s been working so hard to correct?

Will my 6-year-old continue on pace to read at level e? (This is a big deal if you know anything about kindergarten levels.) Will her sentences stay on the lines? Will her numbers add up? 

What’s all of this going to mean when things go back to “normal” and they can go to school again? 

The schools chancellor the other day said “it will be impossible to replicate the classroom experience at home,” and I keep thinking about that — because this really is impossible. And so I think with that in mind, I -- and the thousands of other working parents who now find themselves also homeschool instructors -- need to give ourselves a break.
 

Maybe the most important lesson my girls learn here is one of resiliency: that we’re making education a priority despite the fact that we’re not in our traditional classrooms. That we’re finding new ways to learn stuff (they’re happily becoming familiar with the computer keyboard) and they’re learning that from me. 

And they’ve already surprised me in how quickly they seem to adapt to all of these new changes, taking it all in stride, and not really getting too upset about any of it.

So, in turn, I’m learning to roll with the punches (and the never-ending list of suggested educational websites to visit), to live outside my comfort zone and be more like them. 

So in teaching them, I’m also learning about me, and that can’t be so bad, right?