Home school just adds up to more work for mums
You know the phrase, “If you need something done, ask a busy woman”?
There are thousands of us out there, trying not to drop all the balls while juggling work, children, parents, shopping and cooking (OK, that’s one I never really grasped very well in the first place but you get it).
Chuck in a pandemic and women will roll up their sleeves and get on with it.
And before anyone screws up their paper in disgust, I know there are lots of men doing the same.
But even the most hands-on man knows that women still bear the brunt of the household tasks and most childcare issues. Especially during Covid-19.
Don’t shout, studiesdies have proved it.
But the last week has almost finished me. And every other busy mum I know.
We are in homeschooling hell.
A place so dark and daunting (with th some moments of f total madness) that hat many of us will need eed counselling to recover. And it’s only been five days.
Trying to do your job from a computer in your kitchen or back bedroom (if you are lucky) is hard enough without looking after children.
Chuck in being a teacher and it’s only a matter of time before all hell breaks loose.
Getting my two up for 9am ready to log on starts well. But they can smell fear already.
“Do you really think you can do this?” my youngest pipes up, looking at me suspiciously. I’ve had easier job interviews.
“Yes, of course,” I lie, just as my phone rings and I am saved from further interrogation from a rightly dubious 10-year-old. She knows I can’t do this.
Within minutes, things are going downhill. Internet issues, trying to set up Google classroom calls, resulting in a full-on meltdown – and that’s just me.
And so it continues all week. I dash between the two, picking the one to help by who is shouting “Mum” the loudest, my brain switching between everything from P6 long division (taught in a totally different way, of course) and S2 history on the US civil rights movement (lots of tough questioning by the teen).
Work has to be submitted online or sent to the class teacher with attachments. But the printer has died.
I find myself longing for jotters, pencils and real books.
Things take a turn for the worse when they start mocking me.
“You don’t know the answer?” my eldest laughs after a tense discussion on French pronouns.
“Yes, of course I do,” I lie again, furiously looking up Google for the hundredth time. I get to do my work in short bursts bbut, even then, ththere is no respite.resp They demandd snacksnacks every couplcouple of hourhours. Just how many do tthey get at sschool?
IIf I refrefuse, theythe wait until I’m on the phonep and then mount a raid on the frfridge, sliding on their stomachs soldier-styles to get to the spoils.spoils
And then when they are done with their work, they expect me to be done with mine.
The youngest used to give me pangs of guilt with her “you’re always working” mantra. Now she shames me if I pause too long on a 12 times table sum because I’m so tired.
Add into the fun a burst pipe, blocked loo and falling face down on ice, and it’s been a hell of a week.
This time homeschooling is hard. That first lockdown seems like a breeze.
In the throes of a Scottish winter with snow on the ground and darkness at 4pm, it’s a different place.
But we ARE in a different place. This lockdown and a speedy roll-out of this vaccine will save lives. And we all need it to save our sanity.
But until then, we mums have no choice but to roll up our sleeves and get on with it. It’s what we do. Wish us luck.