Life During Remote Learning

By 8:30 a.m., various sacred objects cluttered the clean playroom. There was a cheap Labbu toy, a karaoke microphone, a geode, some Baby-Sitters Club books, the last remaining Lego house from an elaborate set, and a few Polly Pockets scattered about.

The second graders were engaged in remote learning, or “Zoom school,” which is how we referred to it when our eldest daughter, who is now in eighth grade, participated in a hybrid class during the COVID-19 restrictions.

Like many parents who navigated 2020 through 2022 with kids over five, I’m still feeling the stress of balancing work, the kids, and Zoom every single day.

But in a way, like after childbirth, I seem to have pushed those difficulties aside while fulfilling everyone’s needs. By 9:23 a.m., I found myself texting a friend: “Is it too early for a drink?”

With our two daughters in 2nd and 8th grade each attending separate schools in District 15 Park Slope, our morning looked something like this:

My husband was caught up in a meeting.

The kids couldn’t log in properly.

The necessary app wasn’t updated.

Someone was too loud.

My dog chewed up some Tupperware.

Is it snack time? Already?

My device had died.

The pencil hadn’t been sharpened.

Okay, but shouldn’t it be time for snacks? I mean, really.

How does this mute button even work?

And why are other parents there if they aren’t bringing snacks? Can’t they see their child is fading away?

The 130-year-old brownstone apartment we live in wasn’t designed for a family of four to communicate with different people on separate screens at once. Certainly not for the large snack stash my kids wanted.

I felt like Steve Martin in “Cheaper by the Dozen,” bouncing around while still in my pajama pants by 11 a.m.

At least the morning offered a bit of joy. For the first time in months, the kids cleaned their desks without any prodding (don’t judge how messy they were). They were focused, sparing me the trek through snow and ice to school. They weren’t bickering over the TV remote or who was breathing too loudly. I appreciated the rare insights into their school life, especially seeing how kind their elementary teachers were.

“Good morning, my love!”

My youngest’s teacher calmly reminded him not to draw on the screen—six times! She definitely deserves a medal.

My 8-year-old looked like a little accountant, sipping water from a mug while juggling a pencil and some calculations.

“It’s already lunchtime!” the teacher announced.

A classmate chimed in, “Look at how stuffy I am!”

Regardless of their pay, these teachers deserve more than they receive.

The shadow of the pandemic lingers, though. Our oldest son was in second grade when everything shut down. We huddled with neighbors and watched the kids play in the backyard while juggling work and helping the older kids with homework at a picnic table.

Almost every minute felt like someone needed something from me.

Although the acute fear of the pandemic has subsided, stress remains palpable. On this snow day during virtual learning, I find myself reminiscing about wanting simple things: self-care, privacy, and just being left alone for some peace.

I’m in the midst of creating a large marketing presentation, while my husband fights the good fight in health policy and the national budget. We’re strict with our kids, reminding them that patience is a virtue we all need—myself included.

I do worry about the differences between a snow day and “Zoom school.” On a snow day, you can settle in front of the TV for a while and still make it outside to play.

Interestingly, quite a few parents logged in for the morning sessions and then took their kids out sledding after lunch. Does perfect attendance really matter?

At least for us, things generally went smoothly during Zoom school. The girls were engaged and inspired; they had some semblance of structure. With other holidays around the corner, I’m relieved they completed some work too.

Elementary school seemed easier than middle school. My daughter’s 8th-grade teacher grumbled about feeling unwell without informing the students. Monday’s double drama class was cut to one, and algebra was moved up, but we hardly noticed. This morning, I exchanged more emails with the vice principal than I had since September. At least my older children are motivated and have figured out Google Classroom.

We’re among the fortunate ones. Our kids have their own iPads, so I didn’t have to sacrifice mine. In one group chat, a parent discussed borrowing a school device that didn’t work, leaving their child unable to log into class.

But by 1 p.m., I threw in the towel. The kids were squabbling, and Zoom was done. We tried our best. The sledding hill was calling.

Honestly, how did I manage this for more than a year?

Send sweets and, perhaps, a bottle of delicious bourbon my way.