Pandemic disrupts my sons’ march to adulthood
As a teacher, the run-up to the holidays is always exhausting: putting together report cards, marking a flurry of final projects and exams, wrapping up classes, planning for September. By the end of June, I’m done and ready for summer fun.
But this year, the level of doneness has reached a new peak after the events of the past few months, compounded by the looming threat of a second COVID-19 wave. No one knows what fall will look like, just as no one knew what our spring would look like. For me and my sons, I knew this summer would be different than normal, even before the pandemic forced us all home.
Summer is traditionally our slower, more contemplative time of year, with kids out of school, universities and colleges on hiatus, people on vacation and at their cottages. This season is our reward for the hectic rest-of-year, our treat for battling short days and cold winters. There is a reason why “summer blockbusters” and “beach reads” are a thing.
Yet this year, we have been on a collective timeout for a while already, and I’m feeling restless. I want to do … something, but my options are more limited than ever.
Usually by the end of June I’ve already feverishly made plans for the summer break, set up outings and daily schedules, and confirmed summer camp plans, while continuing to drive my sons to basketball and softball and swimming classes. All of this has been cancelled for this year, though I know our summer would have been different even without the pandemic shutdown.
My sons are 15 and 12, currently inhabiting that in-between phase when things start to change. If things had been “normal” this summer, they would have spent the next few months hanging out with friends, going out for meals and treats and to the movies, beginning that slow walk from childhood to teen to adulthood.
Before their world came to a grinding halt, they were already starting to make their own plans and showing signs of resistance to family time. Even now, my elder son participates in family movie nights with more reluctance than ever before, though I can usually bribe him with pizza and guilt.
Still, the signs of an evolving relationship were already there, whether I liked it or not. I was just getting used to the idea of loosening the strings when social distancing began. My sons’ desire for more autonomy is still there, but the means of exploring their new freedom is still, unfortunately, under partial lockdown. While months of extra family time have felt like a wonderful bonus and made us even more close, the lure of summer still beckons and, with it, no idea of what the future will bring.
In some ways, this summer will resemble the summers of my childhood, minus the social aspect. I grew up in Scarborough in the ’80s and ’90s, and my summers were made up of long lazy days that melted into each other, with too much screen time and plenty of time spent outdoors, riding my bike through the neighbourhood or to the convenience store to buy candy, and then back to the playground, and many hours spent reading and writing. As an adult under lockdown, it has felt the same, with nowhere to go and few things open in any case.
My younger son, Ibrahim, has already put together a very optimistic schedule that includes daily exercise and basketball drills, reading and screen time. He’s also been exploring the neighbourhood more, on bike rides with my husband. We recently asked my elder son to come up with a quieter plan for his summer, though I know he is disappointed his grander plans have been put on hold for now.
Some part of me misses the days when my kids welcomed my interfering in their lives, when they looked to me to schedule their summer days. Right now, they mostly just want me to leave them alone. Then again, thanks to COVID-19, they can’t go too far, at least not just yet. email: ujalaluddin@outlook.com