海角大神

My older daughter hums.聽

I have learned this, these past few days, as I sit in my office attempting to write in 15-minute intervals, in between tech support, password sleuthing, and schedule monitoring. The indeterminate tunes flow downstairs to me from the room we have converted into a classroom, through my office door, and into the journalism classes I now teach via Zoom.

My younger daughter whistles. I have learned that, too.聽

It is a new skill for her, and she is quite proud of it. She practices, in between her morning meeting 鈥� during which she gleefully shouts at her fellow second graders through the computer screen 鈥� and remote PE class, which seems to involve bouncing a red rubber ball on the floor above my head.

Sometimes they hum and whistle together. Sometimes they compete. Sometimes I 鈥渘eed to take the dog out,鈥� so I can walk around the block. And then I force myself to go back to home-work-school. Back to more learning.

It feels like ages since we were notified that our daughters鈥� school would be 100% remote. I had new projects and deadlines, a new house and town, and a newly long-distance marriage. I also had two little girls who were painfully eager for school to start.聽

I tried not to panic. I scolded myself for reacting like a privileged baby. My family was blessed: healthy, financially secure. I could just lean in, right?聽

I tried to. I jumped into learning about pandemic pods versus babysitters versus maybe nonstop reruns of 鈥淭he Baby-Sitters Club.鈥� I began the delicate dance of discovering my fellow parents鈥� boundaries about play dates, social distancing, and masks to find those whose inclinations matched my own.聽

I scrolled Pinterest to learn how to set up the perfect home classroom, found inspiration, and then learned that none of the influencers had contemplated the cacophony of two different elementary school children, in two different grades, shouting at two different computers from their sweetly matching desk chairs. I learned about meal planning, chore charts, athletic schedules, and virtual music lessons. I learned about the bandwidth capacity of our internet, and that soccer cleats from last year do not fit.聽

By the end of the first week of school I didn鈥檛 want to learn any more. I didn鈥檛 want the tip sheet on children鈥檚 wellness from the American Academy of Pediatrics. I didn鈥檛 want advice from other dazed parents. I certainly didn鈥檛 want any more articles on the impact of remote learning on women鈥檚 careers. I just wanted everything back to normal聽

Name one thing that鈥檚 good about remote learning, I said to my daughters one afternoon, holding my head in my hands at the kitchen table.聽

The girls looked at me strangely. I know they have missed their friends, missed hugging their teachers, missed going to school and coming home with backpacks filled with accomplishments.

鈥淲e get to see you more, Mama,鈥� one said, finally.聽

I looked up, taken aback. Of course. I had more time with them, too, these precious beings on the road toward their own lives, this year as much as any.

鈥淎nd we don鈥檛 have to wear shoes to school!鈥� The other added gleefully, holding up her bare feet.

鈥淎nd we get to eat chocolate during the day!鈥� The younger one grinned, and then pointed to what I thought was my secret hiding place for the trail mix.聽

鈥淎nd we get more play dates!鈥澛�

鈥淎nd hugs!鈥�

They kept going. They have seen their grandparents more. They have formed new bonds with teachers whose online efforts are nothing less than miraculous. They have daily FaceTime dates with their father, who has revamped his schedule to make sure he has an hour each workday to read to his daughters.

They started dancing around the kitchen. I felt better. This year is, if nothing else, unforgettable. And through the resilient eyes of children, I was seeing, it could even sparkle.

鈥淵ou鈥檙e learning,鈥� my older daughter said, and hugged me. Then she and her sister bounded up the stairs to their classroom, whistling and humming.