How I Survived Distance Learning as a Working Mom
- Jennie Roe
- Jun 18, 2020
- 9 min read
Updated: Jul 20, 2020
When my daughter’s school closed in mid-March, it felt like the world was changing by the minute. Just two weeks before, I was on the treadmill at the gym listening to epidemiologists and W.H.O. experts on CNN opine that the occurrence of a pandemic was not a question of if but when. As I worked out in my fancy yoga pants and long line sports bra in my fancy gym, I admit — I was skeptical.
A pandemic? Really? That was the stuff of B movies and sci-fi films starring Gwenyth Paltrow. I could not begin to imagine what life in a pandemic would look like. Maybe I just didn’t want to imagine. I had a full-time job that was demanding and required me to be in the office every day for eight to ten hours a day. I had school-aged children who were in the thick of their academic school years. It was spring time and I was thrilled about the end of cold and flu season, the prospect of backyard BBQs, and upcoming social events with my crew of fellow school parents. In fact, the day schools closed, I had plans to enjoy happy hour with my coworkers at a fancy Silicon Valley watering hole. This fabled pandemic wasn’t going to stop me. Little did I know, that would be the last social gathering I would attend before the world turned upside down and the real adventure began: distance learning with my six-year-old while working a full-time job.
I had no idea what what to expect. Each day was different. At times, I felt victorious. But most times, I was engaged in a battle of wills. On one side of the ring was me: newly-minted educator/mom with invisible load/career woman with an ever-present “let’s get this homework done ASAP so I can get other stuff done” mentality; on the other side of the ring was my daughter: a six-year-old who had a shockingly impressive ability to stall, postpone, and delay any and all school work until the very last minute.
I’m a Teacher Now?
I hate nagging at my kids. It stresses me out, which in turn, stresses them out. So whenever they whine, I pause and ask myself, “How much is this battle worth?” I have learned that the times I dig in are the times I set myself up for a showdown. It pits my ego against my child’s ego, and the battle escalates quickly. Next thing I know, I’m screaming — like really screaming — at my kid for not picking up her popsicle stick and walking it to the garbage. I mean, really? Was that really worth it? Having been there, the answer is, no. Definitely not worth it.
As such, pre-Covid-19, I erred on letting my daughter decide whether to do homework anytime she whined about it. The pressure of disappointing her teachers and being the only one of her classmates to not turn homework in always overpowered her desire to skip it. But with distance learning, I was now her teacher and the realization hit me fast that she was not as concerned about disappointing me as she was her teachers. I didn’t take this personally. Home is a child’s safe haven. She doesn’t have to put on airs at home. She can push the limits and know that mommy and daddy will always still love and accept her. But this was precisely why I was not supposed to be her teacher! A healthy dose of external pressure is good. But with distance learning, that was all out the window. On top of all that, my husband and I had full-time careers that demanded more than forty hours of work a week easy. We had a younger daughter that also needed love, care, and attention, and a dog that — well, the dog was pretty low maintenance; I couldn’t complain about her. Still, this was unchartered territory. My job was not a work from home gig. Though we were permitted to work from home, it was clunky at first, and I still had to go into the office on a weekly basis. My husband was building a budding business that was at a pivotal point in its development. Though he certainly pulled his weight at home and was quite progressive, I knew pretty much all of the distance learning would fall on me. So here’s how I did it.
I Had Child Care
OK, I know that’s not what you wanted to hear. You wanted to hear that I survived this thing completely on my own without any help. But that bubble has to burst. There are only so many hours in the day. You only have a finite amount of energy, productivity, and patience. Working eight hours a day, caring for two young children, and managing a school curriculum, which included multiple Zooms, Google Classroom, teacher emails, Flipgrid, virtual field trips, active brain breaks, and more was impossible. Let me rephrase— it it’s impossible without help.
Now, you might be the exception. Most of my full-time working friends made it work by splitting child care with their spouse or partner. My other friends worked part-time. Maybe you have a very flexible work schedule, or are just the kind of person that can churn out quality work product and hold Zoom meetings without having to escape your kids by hiding in your bedroom closet. Maybe your kids actually listen to you when you say, “Please don’t bother mommy for the next hour.” Maybe your kids can entertain themselves for long periods of time without interrupting you. If this is you, my god, more power to you. Leave me a comment and tell me how you did it.
But I suspect most full-time working parents of young children are not in that boat. Point is, the idea that a parent can be and do all the things at 100% capacity without help during a quarantine is a myth, and it should not be expected or perpetuated. It should not be expected by employers, spouses or partners, and society at large. Don’t be a hero. If you try to be, something will suffer, whether that is work, kids, relationship, physical health, or mental health. We need to acknowledge and accept that for distance learning and full-time careers to coexist, parents need help. So let us not hesitate to give it.
I Had a Schedule
We have a dry erase board in the kids’ playroom. Every morning, I put up the day of the week, date, and schedule for the day. Kids love schedules. They use schedules at school, so it not only helps set their expectations for the day, it is also a familiar element that helps them buy into the idea of going to school at home. One thing my daughter appreciated most about the schedule was knowing how many Zooms to expect that day. Believe it or not, Zoom meetings can be anxiety-inducing for children, especially the little ones in preschool, Kindergarten, and first grade. Even I feel a tinge of anxiety right before hopping onto a Zoom call. Think about it, your image is projected onto a screen, which makes you feel on display, and only one person can speak at a time, which feels way too much like public speaking. Being able to prepare mentally for Zoom meetings is healthy, for us and our kids. In the schedule, I allotted thirty minutes for recess, sixty minutes for lunch, and two sixty to ninety minute blocks for school work. I incorporated the one or two Zoom meetings slated for that day, which typically lasted twenty to thirty minutes each, and voila — the school day was set.
Every morning after breakfast, my six year old would run to the playroom and check her schedule for the day. This was crucial to getting the school day started, which was one of the toughest challenges of distance learning because there was no physical, geographical difference between waking up in bed and going to school for her. Checking the schedule gave my daughter a ceremonious start to the day of sorts. Once the school day started, momentum propelled us forward. Getting a good start was the trick. You want to help your child be excited and motivated for the day, and you want her to feel like there is a clear beginning and end to school that she can rely on every day. The humble schedule is a powerful tool that no distance learning parent should pass up.
I Cut Down on Social Media
The Coronavirus changed how we interact with the internet and increased our usage of social media big time. Suddenly my friends who had previously sworn off social media were on it. It was incredible, and a lesson to me on how wired we are for social intimacy and connection. During the first two or three weeks of quarantine, I was on text strings, Zoom happy hours, and posting on social media like a mad woman. My psyche had not yet settled into shelter in place mode, and since things felt like they were changing by the minute, I felt very unsettled. So I turned to virtual communication to put me at ease, or maybe to just distract me. Plus, the people I was texting were my fellow school moms or coworkers. We could ask questions of each other, compare, commiserate, and just laugh at the ridiculousness of never being able to leave our houses or see people outside of our families whilst feeling deeply fearful for our health and safety.
After a few weeks, however, I began to feel listless. The human connection I sought felt flat and empty. At most, I was distracted; at worst, I felt even more disconnected. Social media and the constant texting took me out of the present moment. I became more irritable, less patient, and overly focused on all the things I was missing out on because of quarantine. These feelings were at their worst during home schooling. Having patience has always been one of my shortcomings. When it came to practicing patience with my children, I have failed many, many times. But I have learned that when I was completely present in the moment, patience flowed abundantly. When I was distracted, when my mind was elsewhere, and when I was not giving my children my full attention, patience was scarce. By cutting down significantly on social media and texting, I started to enjoy distance learning and the hours would fly by. My mind was freed up to think of fun, creative ways to teach my daughter things like art, math, and science.
When I put my cell phone away and was 100% in the moment, my kids noticed, and it made them more agreeable, more affectionate, and appreciative. Remember, if you have always worked full-time like I have, this was the first time in your children’s lives that they have seen you this much on weekdays. Trust me when I say that cutting down on social media made quarantining and home schooling much more pleasant and fulfilling. Social media isn’t wrong and you don’t have to lock away your cell phone whenever your children are around. The takeaway is to be more present. Social media works against us in that regard. So help yourself and see how freeing your mind of social media chatter makes space for what is happening right now. It won’t be perfect, but you will be experiencing the present moment fully, genuinely, and mindfully, and that is worth much more than any Tweet or text you can send.
I Let it Go
When schools closed down and shelter in place was mandated, there was a lot of talk about the long-term impact this would have on our children. Parents bemoaned the loss of learning, the trauma, the social regression, and even the future lost earnings of their children. As if a mysterious, deadly, highly-transmissible virus was not scary enough, we now had to worry about our children’s college prospects and future earnings. A pivotal decision I made that helped me not only survive but thrive and — gasp — actually enjoy distance learning was this: I refused. I refused to let fear run my life in quarantine. I refused to believe that my children were irreversibly damaged because they missed out on three months of school. I refused to let fear dictate how I parented my kids, especially during a pandemic. I refused to waste energy worrying what we lost and what we were missing out on as a result of the quarantine. I let it all go. I refused to give fear any more power than was necessary to keep me and my family safe.
Instead I thrust myself completely into what was happening right now. Coronavirus was here, shelter in place was mandated, and schools were closed. There was no choice. I could not change the situation if I wanted to. No one could. The choice was to resist or adapt. And it did not take long for me to realize that the pandemic gave me a gift. Quarantine had given me the most time I had spent with my children since maternity leave. Rather than rushing out of the house every morning, commuting to the office, working for eight to nine hours, commuting home, and having just two hours at most each weekday to see and play with my children, I could now take my time. We could fit in a game in the mornings, a chat, some piano playing, and enjoy breakfast together. In the afternoons, because of the flexibility of working from home, I could wrap up work early, spend five to six hours with them before bedtime, then work again after they went to sleep.
We will look back on this pandemic some day. And I decided early on that I would be damned if I looked back on this time and realized that I completely blew such a special and rare opportunity to bond with my kids because I was afraid, anxious, distracted, or too self-absorbed to appreciate the silver linings. So whenever my daughter just really did not want to do school work, I let it go. We went outside and played. We laughed, talked, joked, and smiled. And we were much happier and better for it.
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