Rewind to the time when this school closure was first announced, my initial reaction (personally, for the development of my own children and my relationship with them) was both excited and optimistic. We were going to work on building character, developing soft skills, and enhancing work habits. Previously, my son and I had read Way of the Warrior Kid by Jocko Willink. We both enjoyed both the story and the message within the book, and I felt as though this would be the ideal time to instill Willink's mantra - 'Discipline Equals Freedom' - into my son.
We started off strong. We had a good balance of academic work, time spent on extracurricular activities and hobbies, and personal development. I was able to balance work obligations and provide guidance for my nine-year-old son. We weren't thriving, but our heads were above water.
But this is not a sprint; this is a marathon. The longer that this COVID-19, quarantine, work from home saga continues the more I find myself struggling. Marathon runners know that the wall is typical to occur around the 20th mile when the glycogen within the muscles becomes depleted. All of a sudden, when you hit the wall, you're running on empty.
Our family of four has been at home for four plus weeks. We're still tweaking our routines to try to find what works best for us. Emphasis on the word still (it's definitely a work in progress). Anyways, last week, on one particular day, I was going to be engaged in consecutive Zoom meetings from about 9am to 4pm. Knowing that, before the day got going, I'd given my son a list of six things to do. We talked about how he would have seven hours to accomplish six things; he could accomplish them in any order. I suggested that he might want to do three before lunch and three after lunch. Whatever time he had left, after completing his six tasks, he was free to use as he chose.
At about 4:30pm that day, I got around to checking-in with my son. He was playing Xbox (this has been his preferred activity while school has been closed and he hasn't been allowed to engage with his friends). I asked him how his day had gone; he responded that it had been fine. I asked him if he'd accomplished all of the things that I'd asked him to get done. He had not.
I was running on empty and all of a sudden I'd hit the wall. I'd become irritable. I was frustrated. Why hadn't he done the six things that I'd laid out for him to do? It was only six things? He'd had seven hours to get them done.
This was a reality check. It kind of cut me down that my son wasn't all-in with the principles behind 'Discipline Equals Freedom.' These are principles that I believe in, and I believe that most of what I've accomplished in my life are a result of these principles. Personally, more than any Iowa Core math and/or literacy standard, Discipline Equals Freedom is what I wanted my son to learn (to live) during this school closure.
Check yourself, Eric. He's nine years old. He's frustrated that he is no longer able to be with his friends. He's bored when he's stuck at home all-day long and his Mom and Dad have to be engaged with work throughout most of the day. I quickly realized that I needed to temper my expectations. This was not his fault. It is not my fault. It is no one's fault.
We had a conversation. I reassured him that I was not mad at him. I told him that the situation that we are in is not fair. I told him that I'm aware he doesn't like it, and that I don't like it either. I further described it using the most appropriate expletive that I could think of using with a nine-year-old.
It's probably the first of several conversations that we'll have to continue to have while this quarantine persists. I don't have any sense of false hope that everything will become copacetic as a result of any isolated conversation. Life lessons are learned over time. They are learned through persistence, they are learned through kindness, and they are learned through love. Learning thrives with persistence, kindness, and love.
