Home Schooling – Arghhhh!

So who loves, home schooling? Yay!!

Don’t you just love having to work from home, plus do home schooling?

Of course you do!

I love having to take phone calls for work whilst having to help my children with their lessons and supervise them.

I love getting up at silly o’clock in the morning, to get myself ready, make the children’s breakfast and make their lunches. I know I won’t have time to do them, after I start work.

After I have washed and dressed, I go into my 10 year old, son, Johnny’s bedroom and tell him to get up.

He asks for another five minutes in bed.

I reply, “Five minutes at the most and then you need to get your breakfast. Jane is making pancakes now.”

There is no reply from Johnny.

“I am taking Skye for a walk, so you better be up by the time I get back,” I warn him, as I leave his room.

There is a groan from the bed.

I try to keep my temper as I walk downstairs.

I grab Skye’s lead from the bannister and march my frustration out, by walking Skye for a short walk around the block.

When I get back, Max, my five year old, has spilt the milk from his breakfast, all over the floor and Johnny is still in bed.

At this point, I feel like I am going to explode!

I check the time, it’s 7:45. I need to leave to take Johnny to school, in fifteen minutes. Otherwise, I won’t get back in time to start work.

I take a deep breath and march upstairs and into Johnny’s bedroom.

I pull the covers off him.

He groans, “I’m not going to school.”

“You are going to school! Now get up and get dressed.”

I leave him and go back downstairs.

I run a bowl of water and wash up the breakfast dishes and put the kettle on for a cup of coffee.

I go into the lounge and Max is half dressed.

“Hurry up Max, your teacher will be doing a live call soon.” Max shrugs his shoulders.

“Come on Max, lets’ get your t-shirt on and your socks.”

He obliges and with some encouragement, goes upstairs to clean his teeth and wash his face.

For the umpteenth time, I call up to Johnny.

“Get out of bed and get ready for school. Now!”

He is the only one allowed to go to school at the moment.

I need him to go to school because, home schooling is a nightmare to do with him. He has no self, motivation and every lesson is an argument. At least he does his work when he is at school.

There is no reply from Johnny, so I go upstairs again.

As I walk in, he pulls the covers over his head and ignores my instructions.

“Get up Johnny! Right now!”

“No!” he replies with a sulky voice.

“You are going to school!”

“I don’t want to go to that dumb school!” Johnny shouts back at me.

“You most certainly are! Now get out of bed and come down and eat some breakfast. We are leaving in a minute!”

“I am not going!” Johnny replies, pulling his covers up again.

I pull them down and insist he gets out of bed.

Johnny ignores me again.

“Now!” I say in a firm voice.

I can feel myself getting really angry.

There is no answer and I threaten to take him to school in his pyjamas.

Suddenly, Johnny jumps out of bed and runs into the bathroom and locks the door.

“Unlock the door this minute,” I shout from the other side of the door.

“No!”

I lower my voice because my husband works nights and I don’t want him to be woken up, with all the shouting.

“Johnny, you are going to school, if I have to break this door down,” I say in a loud whisper.

There is no answer.

“Right, that’s it!”

My husband Mark, comes out of the bedroom.

“What on earth is going on? I’m trying to sleep!” He growls at me.

“Our son won’t go to school and has now locked himself in the bathroom and won’t come out.”

Mark stomps down the stairs and comes back with the toolbox.

When he tries the door again, it is unlocked.

He glares at me as if I am lying!

We go into the bathroom but Johnny is nowhere to be seen. I check behind the shower curtain but he is not there. I glare back at Mark who is in a foul temper now.

I go to check Johnny’s bedroom again, but Mark calls me back.

“Look out there,” he says to me, pointing at the open window.

I look out the window and see Johnny, smirking up at us, standing on the back porch roof.

“What do you think you are doing?” I shout, from the window.

“I’m not going to school.”

I want to burst in to tears, but instead we both, storm down the stairs and out into the garden. Mark gets the ladder out of the shed and climbs up onto the flat roof.

Johnny is defiantly standing on the roof. Mark grabs him and tells him to get down the ladder and go indoors. Johnny put up a bit of resistance but quickly gave in, under his father’s threatening glare.

When they are both back indoors, Mark tells Johnny to get some breakfast.

“Your Mother has to start work in fifteen minutes,” Mark says in an angry tone. “You will have to do your schoolwork from home today.”

I am really angry now because Mark will go back to bed and I will have to deal with Johnny, as well as trying to work.

“You are going to school tomorrow, so don’t think you will be pulling this stunt again!” I say to Johnny.

“You will do the work that the teacher sets for you today.” Mark reiterates what I have said to Johnny and then stomps back up the stairs to bed.

I sigh, stirring my coffee. I really don’t want to have to go through this again.

I send an email to the teacher to explain the situation.

Taking my coffee with me, I sit down to help Max with his “live class.” He responds well to his teacher, as she explains what she wants him to do.

My 12 year old daughter, Jane, helps by creating pages of work for Max. This includes having to circle all the capital letters on the page and doing simple maths by counting the number of apples and oranges she has drawn on the page. He has to write the total for each question.

The "live class" over, I look at the time and I have about two minutes left.

I make sure the older two, have what they need, to do their work for school today.

I have a work meeting starting at 09:30 sharp, so I set up my laptop and pull my work phone out of my bag. Straight after that, I have an assessment over the phone, with a patient.

The meeting drags on and I am conscious of the time. When it finally ends, I ring my assessment. She is a cantankerous old, woman. She wants to know why she hasn’t been informed of the date of her operation. I explain that I am ringing to do an assessment of the issues. She doesn’t cooperate and keeps returning to the date of her operation.

I have to explain that the operation is not an urgent one and in the present climate, I am unable to give a definite date. However, I also explain again, that I need to do an initial assessment of the problem. The patient becomes quite angry and is not listening to me. She keeps talking over me and nothing I say, appeases her.

It takes great effort not to be rude back. I take a deep breath and manage to keep calm and reiterate what I have already said, three times already.

I am just beginning to make some headway with the woman when the children erupt.

Max comes running in, knocking the phone out of my hand. He is in floods of tears and screaming.

I try to comfort Max whilst trying to retrieve the phone.

Then Johnny comes racing in, shouting at Max, who then screams louder. “He has broken my ipad! Now the teacher is going to kill me because I can’t do my homework!” Johnny swiftly reaches for Max and thumps him on the arm!

Max screams even louder and throws a plastic plate at his brother. It hits Johnny on the nose. He screams and lurches forward, making a swipe at Max.

I pull them apart and tell them to stop fighting. I pull Max aside, so he can’t retaliate and tell Johnny that he is old enough to know better.

Johnny shrugs and pulls a face, poking his tongue out at Max.

“Go to your room!” I say to Johnny, trying to keep my voice calm and steady.

Johnny stands there, ignoring me.

“Now!” I command.

Johnny storms out and slams the door.

I growl under my breath, “give me strength!” I call, to whoever might be listening.

Meanwhile, the phone has been ringing incessantly.

When it rings again, I answer it, expecting it to be the woman I had been speaking with.

Instead, it is my boss.

I groan inwardly!

“Finally!” he states, in an angry tone, “why has it taken you so long to answer the phone, you are supposed to be working.”

Trying to sound calm, I reply,

“I am sorry Mr Harrison, my youngest had a little accident, which I had to deal with immediately.”

My boss ignores what I have said and continues,

“I rang to inform you that Mrs F, who you spoke to earlier, has made a complaint about you. She said you put the phone down on her. Is this true?”

I swallow my rage and answer,

“I did not put the phone down on Mrs F. My son Max had an accident and when he fell, he knocked the phone out of my hand.”

I manage, to keep Max quiet, whilst trying to listen to my boss and answer his questions with a calm voice.

Suddenly, Jane bursts in shouting,

“Johnny has just stolen my laptop to do his homework! I was in the middle of doing my own! You need to do something because I am not getting into trouble because of that idiot!”

I mouth to Jane, “shut up! I am on the phone to my boss!”

My expression is one of desperation. Jane stares at me momentarily, then storms out, slamming the door behind her.

My boss says, in a stern voice, “Are you listening to me?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer and continues to stress the importance of dealing with patients appropriately. He reminds me that the patient deserves to be treated with respect and professionalism.

I see red! I am livid and answer,

“Listen to me,” interrupting his tirade.

“You jolly well know I am good at my job and have always been professional with my patients. You also know that I am trying to continue doing my job, with three children at home, because of this blasted lockdown.”

I take a deep breath, “This lady was very rude to me but I responded, in a professional and polite manner. She was very insulting on the phone and after all the years I have worked for you, I expect you to believe me."

"As for putting the phone down on Mrs F, I have already explained that my son had an accident and knocked the phone out of my hand. He was screaming and I had to stop to comfort him.”

There was silence at the other end of the phone. I take a deep breath, whilst pulling Max onto my lap and giving him a cuddle. I hear a sigh and pray that my boss is not going to give me a disciplinary.

“Well Maxine, I will ring her back myself. However, I do need you to try and keep your domestic life separate from your work life.”

I want to scream and tell him that he can stick his job where the sun doesn’t shine!

Instead, I clear my throat and say,

“I appreciate that you do not have to deal with your children, at the same time as working. You are fortunate that your wife takes care of them. As such, I would appreciate it if you could show a little empathy for my situation.”

My boss answers, in a condescending tone,

“Of course, I understand that it must be difficult but, “we” need to keep an air of professionalism at the same time.”

I can’t trust myself to answer with a civil reply.

While I battle to compose myself, my boss asks,

“Maxine, are you still there?”

I pull myself together, swallow my pride and respond,

“Yes! I understand Mr Harrington and will endeavour to ensure that this doesn’t happen again.”

“Good! Well I will let you get on with your work Maxine. I have a meeting to attend. Goodbye.”

Relieved, I say, “Goodbye” back.

At the same time, pulling expressions that are more suited to a child. To make myself feel better and let off some steam, I mouth a number of expletives.

I have to say that this is much less satisfying, than being able to shout them out loud.

Max is still on my lap and I gently move him off.

“Come on Max, you need to go back and do your homework for your teacher.”

He moans and looks like he is going to burst into tears again.

I give him a little kiss on his cheek and say,

“You can stay down with me whilst you do your work, if you want.” Max excitedly agrees and brings his felt tip pens and his pencil over to the table where I am working.

I warn him that I have to speak to people on the phone,

“You need to be as quiet as a mouse, Max.”

He agreed, fervently nodding his head.

Shortly afterwards, the phone rang again.

The patient is polite and simply asks for advice regarding her hernia.

After the phone call, I take the opportunity to go upstairs to look at Johnny’s ipad.

He is sitting on his playstation.

“What do you think you are doing?” I say, feeling the anger rising.

“What do you want me to do?” He replies rudely. “That little jerk has broken my ipad,” Johnny continued.

“Don’t you dare take that tone with me! You know you’re not allowed on the playstation, during school hours.”

Johnny glares at me and says,

“Der! In case you haven’t noticed, I can’t do my homework because I haven’t got my ipad.”

I resist the urge to bounce him all round his bedroom and instead say,

“I am taking your playstation away, until tomorrow evening, for being so rude.”

“That’s not fair, I can’t help it, if that shit brother of mine, broke my ipad!” Johnny shouts angrily.

“You will lose it for a week if you carry on!”

I take a deep breath, trying not to lose it completely!

“I will have a look at the ipad and in the meantime, your sister has an ipad she doesn’t use. So there will be no more excuses, not to do your school work.”

Johnny groans but doesn’t dare say anything.

I am interrupted, by the phone ringing. I daren’t miss it and race down the stairs to take the call. I manage to get there before the phone stops ringing.

“Hello, can I help you?” I say, trying not to sound breathless.

A lady answers, “Yes, I am looking for some advice regarding my son, who was discharged from Sunshine ward last week.”

The lady then talks for half hour about her son.

At the end of the phone call, I rush upstairs to sort out Jane’s ipad for Johnny.

The phone rings again.

I spend an hour listening and trying to give advice to a man, about his wife’s ulcers on her legs. During the phone call, Max throws his homework across the room.

I turn round and put my finger to my lips, telling him to be quiet.

The man is still talking but I have lost track of what he is talking about. I mouth to Max, that I will help him, once I am off the phone.

He bursts into tears!

My head feels like it is going to explode!

I take the phone and go out into the kitchen for some peace. I reach into a tin and pull a chocolate bar out and take it back to Max. He stops crying instantly and beams at the chocolate bar.

I manage to save the phone call, by diverting the man’s attention to a particularly useful piece of advice, for his situation.

“Phew!”

I sit with Max for about 10 minutes trying to help him with his homework.

The calls keep coming. I try to concentrate on my job and giving advice and support, but I am constantly interrupted. I feel so frustrated. I want to be able to concentrate on my job.

I resist the urge to stomp round the house shouting, “it’s not fair! It’s not blooming fair!”

There is a video call for Max’s class at 2pm, which I have to help him with.

I have booked half hour off, at this time for my lunch. I know I am not going to get any lunch, so I grab a few biscuits and a cup of tea.

I sit with Max to help him. He is pleased to see his teacher on the call and listens to what she is asking him to do.

After Max’s call has finished, I ring the school to let them know that Johnny will be coming in tomorrow.

The teacher replies,

“Do you really need to send him in? After all, he is safer staying at home.”

A guilt trip is the last thing I need today.

As such, I respond with,

“I am a keyworker and yes, my son does need to come to school. I am trying to work and if I don’t work, I will not have the money to put food on the table. I will drop him off in the morning.”

Infuriated, I am sorely tempted to put in a complaint.

Fortunately, the afternoon is much quieter. With the exception of another row with Johnny, I am able to get on with my work.

The last half hour, I am clock watching. I can’t wait to get to 5pm and shut down the computer. Just as I clear away my work, Mark appears at the door.

“Do you realise, with all that noise this morning, I couldn’t get to sleep?” he says angrily.

“Well at least you get to go to work and don’t have to deal with children at the same time,” I reply angrily.

This escalates into a mini argument.

After the day I have had, I am really not in the mood for another argument.

“Trust me, you have it easy! You go off to work, sit in an office and then come home and go to bed. You don’t have to deal with anything except your self.” I answer.

Mark stomps out of the room.

I decide to have a bath whilst dinner is cooking. I desperately need a breather before having dinner and doing all the nightly chores.

Later that evening, I ring my sister. We usually ring each other regularly. Tonight I really need to be able to sound off, about my day.

“I just don’t know how long I can keep this up Lucy. I think I will either go mad or get the sack.”

We stay on the phone for over an hour. I am so glad I have my sister for support.

When I get off the phone, I make a cup of tea and plonk down on the settee to watch my favourite “soaps.”

Eventually, I drag myself off to bed.

My last prayer before I sleep, “Please may the children behave themselves tomorrow and please can I get my work done.”

I sigh, not really believing that my prayer will be heard.

I turn over and fall asleep with the thought, “I wish it was Saturday tomorrow!”