Skip to main content

F

The book is now closed on Day 2 of trying to replace Thelma as homeschooler, mother, confidant, chef, tear dryer, maintainer of sanity, chauffeur, coach...

I've earned an F for Failure to Perform, Forgetfulness and Lack of Fortitude.

This is hard work.  In years past I would whisk the children from the Woodland Park Zoo to the Ballard Locks to the Vancouver Aquarium to swimming with Grandpa to the library to McDonalds and Alfy's and teriyaki.  It was high energy, but not terribly difficult.  Thelma would come home mildly disappointed to find that life with Dad had been nothing but fun and none of the kids seemed to have missed her.

Things have changed.  Our children are older.  They have more commitments.  The school work is harder and can't be left for later.  I actually have to teach school instead of running a three-day stay-cation.  It's not that teaching the subjects is particularly hard.  I like doing math with Braeden and reading with Mark.  (Blessed Emma is so independent that I just push the on switch and let her run until her work is done.)  What I don't like and can't make sense of is all of the administrative components that come with the online school.  First, I have to make sense of the instructions-for-dummies that Thelma carefully crafted before she left.  I'm embarrassed to admit that she overestimated her audience.  Then, I have to mark online which assignments were completed and how much time was spent on each task.  The school software also tries to make it very easy, but I feel like I'm reading Finnish for the first time.  Sure I can pronounce all of the words, but what does it mean?

"Using the redacted Mortimer scale, how well did Emma complete subsection 47b of the amalgamated literature review while maintaining all standards of the cognitive response model?"

Huh.

It makes me appreciate Thelma all the more.  There is so much she has to go through to teach our kids above and beyond the actual teaching.  I don't envy all the work it requires.  Although, I am jealous that I miss out on moments like right now when Mark is downstairs reading riddles to the appreciative laughter of his brother and sister.

Q.  How does a monster count to sixteen?
A.  On his fingers.

Add to all of the homeschool headache the swimming lessons and shopping and chores and church callings.  I frankly don't know how Thelma does it.  I was a forgetful mess yesterday and just ready for the day to end.  I have an added sense of respect for mothers who are willing to take on the enormous task of being responsible for their children's education.  Running a homeschool for a few days should be a required activity for every adult.  Men might be less prone to talk about women who "just stay home".  Other mothers might complain less about how hard it is to have their children during vacation and how they can't wait for school to start again.  We all might blame school teachers a little less and put more effort into teaching our children to be patient and respectful.

So, as teacher for a day or two, I'm giving a gold star to Thelma and every other parent that sacrifices their time and talents beyond what is necessary, all for the benefit of their children.

Comments

Thelma said…
You are sweet and give me too much credit. I couldn't do an hour of your job...starting with finding a free place to park. I love you!
Marianne said…
It's nice that all the mothers are home. Yesterday, my children were especially glad I was home at meal times. "We're soo glad you're home. We're so sick of corndogs!" It's nice to be missed.

Popular posts from this blog

Sons and Daughters unto God

Lately, I find myself reciting in my mind portions of The Living Christ: The Testimony of the Apostles . I memorized it years ago when our family was studying it at Easter. It has been a constant source of strength and perspective in my life. For all the scripture and sermon that exists about Jesus Christ, I’m not sure there is a more succinct and beautiful treatment of who he is and why it matters. There is one passage that repeats D&C 76. Referring to Jesus Christ, the Prophet Joseph wrote, “We saw him, even on the right hand of God; and we heard the voice bearing record that he is the Only Begotten of the Father— That by him, and through him, and of him, the worlds are and were created, and the inhabitants thereof are begotten sons and daughters unto God.” ( D&C 76: 23-24 ) I find in these truths evidence of Jesus Christ’s sweeping love and grace. Because of the universal atonement of Jesus Christ, he brings every inhabitant of every world he has ever created back into t...

Three Wonders

I know the tradition began earlier, but I associate it with the Carmen Red Oldsmobile station wagon. There was also the Toyota van, but the Oldsmobile days were the magic ones. Over the river and through the woods to grandmother's house we would literally go. (Also through the valley, past the waterfalls, over the hill, and along the lake.) Neilan family Christmas at Grandma and Grandpa's house. The house where my mom was raised, where aunts, uncles, and cousins were just a few houses or blocks away. The two story house where on any ordinary day you entered directly into the kitchen, sat at the kitchen table, and just listened to my mom and her parents talk as an assortment of her brothers would inevitably call or stop by. But on Christmas Eve, the house was already packed to the brim with family, presents, food, and laughter. So much laughter. It was a wonderland as a child to be surrounded by people who loved you and were excited to see you. The house was warm and the large w...

Driving East

I will wake up tomorrow morning, on Father’s Day, alone in Cheyenne without my family. I say this matter-of-factly. Designated days have only a light hold on me. An unexpected business trip that means being gone on Father’s Day? No problem. I'm not much for ceremony. More than once we have marked Father’s Day by splurging for a hotdog at Costco while filling up the minivan on a road trip. (Surely, Cheyenne has a Costco.) If I wake up emotional tomorrow morning, it's not because I'm alone on Father’s Day. It will be because of the cocktail of emotions I drank today. —— Driving across Wyoming was beautiful. Everything below the horizon looked groomed and green. The grass, the hills. the forests. A sea of green dusted with flecks of distant snowfields and antelope. (So many antelope.) Above the horizon, wild white and stormy black scratched across brilliant blue. The kind of sea and sky that softens your heart and tricks your mind.  I pulled off the highway at Little America f...