It?s Monday morning. I begin the countdown to prepare my six-year-old for another week of virtual school. We?re in week five of remote learning this time around. At least, I think it?s week five. Could be six. Tough to keep track since all the weeks have blurred together.
His brow furrows almost immediately and I know it?s going to be a rough start. AGAIN. I realize my stomach is in knots too.
He trudges over to the iPad and sits down. My first meeting isn?t until 9:30 so I have my laptop set up beside him so we can ?go to work together.? The teachers are taking attendance and I hear the reminder for everyone to keep their cameras on. His square is black.
?Turn your camera on,? I whisper. He does but slips under the table in a fit of defiance. They call his name and he responds in a flat voice ?here I am? from his seat on our ceramic floor. I see many of his bright-eyed classmates responding excitedly to the roll call as I try to yank my guy back on his chair without looking like a criminal on camera. I?m unsuccessful (likely on both counts) and he runs over to the couch, lies down and puts a pillow over his head. It’s always this way. The frustration and panic are setting in. The clock is ticking and I don?t have time to cajole him all day. My husband is already at least an hour into calls at his new job.
?C?mon buddy, all your classmates are excited to see you. Please go back to the table,? I plead, with an edge to my voice that is probably a little too harsh.
?I do...