The Recess Lady

The sucky thing about a global pandemic is pretty much everything. It’s an emotional roller coaster that you didn’t ask to be on in the first place; and not one of the fun roller coasters that you end up enjoying, but that one at Six Flags that spins like crazy until you stick to the walls and the floor drops, and you close your eyes and pray for it to end, and when it’s over you find yourself covered in vomit that you aren’t sure was yours or the guy’s next to you. That’s how I’ve been rolling the last 6 months, feeling like I’m dizzy from information and misinformation, nauseous from the unknown, and instead of being covered in vomit, feeling like I’m covered in germs because people either refuse to wear masks or wear them wrong. I had to quit my job at the hospital back in March when my oncologist strongly recommended I limit my potential Covid exposures as much as I possibly can. I felt pretty down about it, as it was my first job I got after I finished my treatment and I was ready to put the cancer life behind me. But between Jamie and my doctor, there was no way anyone was letting me go back. To give you an idea of how un-public I’ve been, I have only recently started venturing out to run errands inside actual stores in the past 3 or 4 weeks (moms, imagine not stepping into a Target for 4 to 5 months…it’s basically torture). I allowed myself a pity party here and there, but little eyes were watching me for cues on how to handle all this chaos and sadness. So eventually I pulled my shit together and have spent most of my time outside in open air with friends and family. It ended up being a summer to remember for our whole family, both for its ups and downs. It was reminiscent of the sort of summers I had as a kid, with my kids playing outside all day with the neighborhood children, while I periodically checked to make sure everyone was alive, and calling them inside when it was time for dinner. Perhaps it wasn’t an ideal summer if you asked my kids, with all their activities shut down, but they adapted and learned how to make the most of it, and that sort of skill is more important than a pool pass.

As much as I tried to enjoy the summer, in the back of my mind was always the question about what was going to happen with the kids’ schooling. In such uncertain times, I think parents thirsted most for a stable plan for our kids’ education. The task of risk analysis for a plan to return to school in person is not one I would ever want. I had my own opinions and hopes, but for the most part I kept my mouth shut and just waited for the school district to announce their plans. The situation was similar to someone diarrhea-ing all over a public bathroom; many parents were offering their critical two cents on how to “fix” the situation, but not actually cleaning the shit up. And since I wasn’t about to glove up and clean this shit storm myself, I was quiet and anxiously waiting for answers.

We finally were given the option to either choose sending our kids in person or virtually. After many days of deliberation, sleepless nights, crying, drinking, crying while drinking, and maniacally laughing because I ran out of tears, we chose to send our kids in person. And just as I began to come to terms with my decision (i.e., ran out of booze), our school district, like many, decided to start everyone remotely because the number of Covid cases were back on the rise and they needed more time to implement a rolling re-entry plan. Despite my sadness that they couldn’t go back to their classrooms quite yet, I put on my fake smile (not pretty and confuses everyone that sees it) and pretended that e-learning was going to be a great and fun adventure. And shocker, my kids actually fell for it. Nailed it.

I did my best to create their very own learning spaces at home so they would be out of each other’s faces this time around. Jamie even made Reese a new desk for her room and I painted their rooms to give them a new look. Then I realized how bad of a job I did with the painting, and I bought a bunch of wall art to cover up my mistakes. Reese spends most of the school day in her bedroom, and I hardly see her other than for a snack break. Since Evan needs to be closer to me during his schooling in case he needs help with reading or writing, we turned our dining room into his classroom (might as well, we only use that room for Costco bulk item storage). I can’t tell you how many times I’ve ironically said, “Hey, no eating in the dining room!” I’ve had to have a few talks with both of them about proper virtual classroom etiquette, like no jumping on your bed during school hours, stop trying to read and write while in a handstand, no making fart and duck noises even if you’re on mute, and stop calling me for a snack like I’m your damn maid. They’ve quickly gotten the hang of it.

I would venture a guess that most parents have said at some point or another during pre-Covid years, “Oh to be a fly on the wall in my kid’s classroom.” Well here we are, we officially made fly status. I have heard some of the most amazing things on their classroom calls. I hear Evan’s teacher so sweetly say multiple times throughout the day, “Ok, friends, don’t forget to put yourselves on mute and raise your hands…oh buddy, please turn your camera back on…friends, we don’t type nonsense things in the chat….yes, school is almost finished and you are all so patient…,” whereas I would have said, “Everyone knock it off or I’m shutting this shit down!” One day I heard her say, after giving instructions on an assignment, “Does anyone have any questions about the Seesaw work?” And Evan raises his hand and says, “I have a question. It’s my Papa’s birthday today and we’re going to FaceTime him later.” In response to his “question,” another kid chimes in, “I also have a question. My grandpa died.” Then every kid took turns announcing who in their family died, and man, it got morbid really fast. But his teacher didn’t miss a beat, she validated all of them, and so smoothly got them back on track. I have since explained to Evan the difference between a question and a statement, and the importance of saying things that are relevant to what they are learning at the time. He verbalized understanding. And no, this has not changed things. But hey, at least he’s participating.

I’ve walked in a few times to check on how Reese has been doing during her class calls, and I must say, her classroom experience sounds very different. I’ve heard her teacher give some very clear expectations about classroom behavior and performance, and I’ve heard her call out the kids that lounge on their beds during calls, turn off their cameras, or open windows or apps that they should not be opening. One kid even brought his Chromebook into the bathroom with him and did his business (dude I get it, FOMO is real). Sometimes I’ll peak in there and a kid will say, “Reese, why is your mom in your room?” And she’ll whip her head around and give me that “Mom, you’re soooo embarrassing” look that I have grown to love so much. All in all, Reese is doing really well and has even told me that this experience is way better than what she was expecting, which put my mind at ease.

With just some minor technical glitches, it has gone quite positively during these past few weeks. Their teachers are extremely patient and encouraging, and both communicate so much with the parents. It really feels like they are going out of their ways to get the kids as independent as possible with the technology and to keep the parents calm, since most parents are also working and can’t stop what they’re doing to figure out how to take a video on Seesaw or edit a Google slide. The anxiety so many parents had, particularly those who had to work and manage kids’ e-learning at home, was through the roof during the end of summer break. But now I feel like things are slowly settling down and families are figuring their bests out. With week 6 of school starting and the district dangling the possibility of a rolling re-entry in the next few weeks, I’m feeling cautiously optimistic, with a slight nervous feeling deep in my gut, similar to that of the bubble guts you get after eating way too many Flaming Hot Cheetos. And what do I do when I get bubble guts from eating too many Cheetos? I wait a bit till my stomach settles, and eat more. That’s how I know things will work out, we always find a way to move forward.

Despite my past tiger mom ways and hyperfocus on academic performance and achievement, this year my main concern has been my kids’ emotional well-being. I saw what the spring lockdown did to them, and they were lonely and craved any sort of social interaction with their friends and family. I know when I was a kid, my favorite things to do in school were gym, music, recess, and strangely, diagraming sentences (ugh, I feel like I lost cool points just sharing that last one). Gym, music and recess were fun because they were group efforts and we could be with our friends. But in the virtual world, the kids are doing their specials in front of a computer, and it’s kind of sad. So I decided to give my kids a recess period everyday, rain or shine. I told some of the parents in the neighborhood to send their kids to the park during their lunch hour and I’d be there to supervise the kids. What I thought would be a nice little playdate here and there turned into a full blown recess of anywhere from 10-15 kids. Soon the kids got into their grooves, knew when to don their helmets and masks, and would speed off to the park at recess time. To some of the older neighbors who take their walks during that time, it looked like a biker gang of kids who were riding wildly and literally screaming because they could. But it brings a smile to their faces to see all the kids together.

I pack up a backpack everyday filled with various balls, frisbees, jump ropes, and a bat, and the kids know to go through the bag and get their toys. I set alarms on my phone and give them the 5 minute warning, and when the bell goes off I call them in, do a quick count, and send them back home, making sure the older sibs don’t leave the younger sibs. At first, it was 30 minutes straight of me screaming commands like, “Keep your masks on,” “Stop touching each other,” or, “6 feet of distance, spread out!” I’ve even had a few injuries on my watch, and in these interesting times of no touching, I’ve found it somewhat difficult to comfort a crying child. One child that tripped and hurt his mouth was crying so much, and I just visualized all these aerosols spraying out of his mouth. I moved the other kids away, patted his non-mucus membrane head and back, assessed his mouth without touching him, and sent him home. Then I hand sanitized like it was going out of style. It was the best I could do. I’m guessing it will be like that at school too. Good thing these kids are tough and brush things off like it’s nothing.

Now that the kids are used to how things are run for recess, they absolutely love their time outside, and so do I. Sometimes they ask me to help them twirl the jump rope with them, other times they ask if I could pitch to them or play soccer, and I’m happy to do any of those things. It is so interesting to watch the kids play and work together; I can see certain characteristics from each kid’s personality come through during group games they make up. And even if some kids didn’t know each other or have not played with each other in the past, here they are after a few weeks together, playing like they’ve been old friends. Lately, they have been playing in the woods, collecting giant sticks, and playing some sort of tribal game that looks like a scene out of Lord of the Flies. They are literally screaming and grunting like savaged beasts, banging on anything that will make loud noises, and I just watch their creative primal juices flow. If they get too far into the woods, I just yell, “TICKS!” and they come back into view. I still have yet to figure out who the “Piggy” of the group is, but so far, no one has shown any deep desire to create a sense of law and order to the group. So I guess I’m “Piggy” and I should probably watch my back before one of the wild ones kills me. Of course, I’ve had to interject when arguments arise or when playing becomes too rough, but they surprisingly listen to me. Sometimes I’m like, did they just listen to me after telling them ONE time to stop? That shit never happens at home with my own kids. Some days a friend or two joins me at the park during a break from their work, and it’s nice to have an adult to talk to. It has become a time during the day that my kids, the neighborhood kids, and I have grown to enjoy and look forward to as the happy break in our days. And when I hear at the end of recess a little voice say, “Thank you, Mrs. Newton,” it makes it all so worth it.

So maybe I can’t work right now. And maybe my kids can’t safely be in school yet. But my kids taught me to make the most of it, and I think I’ve found my little contribution to help make these days a little more tolerable for everyone. Jamie has officially called me “The Recess Lady,” and I carry my recess backpack proudly. I hope their outdoor time has helped them feel connected to their peers, made them happy, and kept them a little active. If and when they go back to school in person, I hope our little recess time helps them transition smoothly, at least in the sense that they are feeling less emotionally lonely and isolated.

Surrounding myself with kids’ laughter and energy has helped me get through these tough times too, and I know I’ll for sure miss my time with them. Years from now when the kids reminisce about their memories of the pandemic, a little part of me hopes recess will be one of their happier memories amidst confusing times. And how great would it be if one of the kids say, “Remember when we got together for recess and Mrs. Newton would pitch to us and hit us and laugh? Do you think she was hitting us on purpose?” Haha, kid, you’ll never know.