I want to do a bit of a deep dive into why I’m doing all of this. I want you to know, and I also want to be able to look back on this when I’m really questioning myself.
I wrote those first two sentences in March, then I tucked this draft away into the dusty recesses of the internet and probably didn’t even look at it again until today… Friday, December 18. It probably would have been a great exercise. I certainly had good, productive, self-aware intentions. Self-care is hard.
Remember March? People in the US were already getting sick, we were all starting to reconsider travel, but we really didn’t know what was coming. Spring break was extended and extended again before we were finally told we wouldn’t be returning to school buildings. Back then, I had decided I would be distancing my family from this remote school mess and jumping straight back into homeschooling my four kids, but I hadn’t really started yet. It had been more than a month since I unwittingly accepted my place in the environmental science masters cohort at UC Denver. I hadn’t started that yet either. I had done some frantic internet searching to see if anyone else had anything to say about digging into grad school while guiding a herd of children through their own education. Mainly, the internet doesn’t recommend it. I just didn’t feel like I had a justifiable choice.
The biggest problem with remote learning is that four out of the six of us have been diagnosed with ADHD, and the other two probably could be. Sitting in front of a computer all day (in the case of the twins) or even for an hour-long block (the Montessori version) is not going to serve us well when we’re trying to absorb new information. My classes are also virtual, but I’m in my 30’s and I’ve collected a lot of coping mechanisms over the years. I knit and fidget and take notes during meetings to maintain focus. The twins are starting to learn those skills, but the younger two are new to the game. So, our experimental first week following the Montessori’s lead didn’t go well.
It was full of alarms on my phone to help me get them to their virtual lessons, them dancing around in front of laptops and/or doing anything and everything to avoid being in front of the camera, me asking what the lesson was about and whether there was follow-up work to be done, and them… not knowing. There were innumerable technical difficulties. Often the teachers couldn’t help because they weren’t familiar with how the software functions in different browsers or on different operating systems. I might not even know something went wrong because of course, they have no incentive to tell me they need help if they’d rather not even attend the lessons. All the while, I was also trying to orchestrate middle school from scratch.
Believe it or not, it was harder to fully homeschool only two of my kids than it has been to include them all. I spent a portion of the summer drawing up basic curriculum outlines for all four kids, just in case, and with the hope that I wouldn’t need all of them. I found resources and made important decisions in advance. So, when I told the Montessori that we wouldn’t be attending lessons, I was already prepared to end up completely in charge. The two younger kids now check in to the virtual classroom every day to maintain attendance, but most of their work is on paper and is assigned by me. I try to follow along with the topics being discussed by their classmates, but I often don’t even know what those are because the teachers talk to the students in the meetings we don’t attend and then don’t share any of that with us (in spite of agreeing to support our approach). Fortunately, that’s fine because I already have a trajectory set for my kids and high expectations.
M is 11 years old, autistic, and has ADHD. She blows me away regularly. She programs and writes impressive fiction. She reads like she breathes (but only after an epic struggle to get her to even try in kindergarten and first grade). She doesn’t like to look at people’s faces and doesn’t like to feel like she’s being watched. Sometimes she gets overwhelmed by things she might have previously been able to tolerate and she yells or breaks things (most recently, she broke her glasses out of anger, for the second time). You can see how virtual classrooms would be difficult for her, and subsequently for me.
E is about to be eight. He seems to be the recipient of two helpings of ADHD: one from each parent. It seems like he learns new physical skills in minutes. Within a day of receiving a jump rope, he had it almost entirely figured out. He also reads as though his life depends on it, but only when everyone else is quiet and boring. In a group (like at the dinner table) he seems to become so preoccupied with filling all silences (or talking over the conversation) with loud, fictional stories, singing, and wild gesticulations, that he loses all awareness of the task at hand. When he was physically attending school, he often sat in the library corner of the classroom and didn’t accomplish anything but reading, seemingly because he was overwhelmed by his inability to focus. In virtual school, this results in him hiding behind the laptop screen, covering his ears.
I’ve decided not to accept that. I’ve decided to do what I can to support my kids while they find their way through this and come out the other end stronger. In our case, that means avoiding the virtual classroom.
I have two teenagers who were enrolled in the local public middle school and two Montessori elementary kids. The middle school repeatedly disappointed me with their sheer inability to come up with a plan, and then again by coming up with an unreasonable one. I gave up on that situation pretty early and withdrew the twin teens entirely. The Montessori took some time to come up with a solution, but I thought it was well thought out and probably the best compromise possible, so we tried it.
I’m in school full time myself because I love education, and I want to contribute knowledge to the world. In my first semester, I managed to earn A’s. My kids are progressing through the expected curriculum at an acceptable (and in some cases outstanding) rate. They’re even learning a little self-direction. All signs suggest that everything is fine, and I wasn’t even taking meds. I am quite happy with all of our work so far, but it is rather stressful. It’s a lot to juggle, and I frequently find myself worrying that I’ve missed something critical or failed us in some way. After all, in addition to all of this, I also have to be their mom. I have to provide them with healthy food, clothes, emotional support, social and moral guidance, and good examples. Since there seem to be enough of them that at least one of them is complaining at any given time, it’s hard to know if I’m succeeding. Still, I think I’m doing the right thing.
Next semester, I’m taking more classes. I work as a research assistant and I’m already beginning work on my thesis. Next semester, the twins will still be homeschooled and the Montessori still isn’t going back to in-person classes. I’ll still be in charge of their education. I’m endlessly thankful for help from my partner, of course, and the fact that his transition to working from home was practically seamless. He steps in during his breaks to help answer questions when I’m already busy. He also does a lot of the cooking at dinner time and half of the grocery shopping. Probably most importantly, though, he emotionally supports me, believes in me, and listens to me (even when I’ve just interrupted his reading).
Also, I’ve just started seeing a new psychiatrist and taking Adderall again. I hope that winter break will be a good proving ground for the prescription so I can take on next semester with more confidence and less stress. We’ll see.
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