This is Different

I’m sitting in the kids’ room reflecting on just how much has changed in a short space of time. This very room, which has only ever been a place of rest, has recently become a classroom of sorts.

Our school term resumed last week and our school has embarked upon the unimaginable task of teaching online. Call it ‘homeschooling’. Call it ‘distance learning’. Call it what you will. This has been an adjustment, to say the least.

Our two older kids have live classroom sessions scheduled at different times, and so we decided that it would be best if each child would sit at the desk in their room during those live sessions so that there would be less distraction.

On the very first day, I sat in the room while one of my loves navigated the new online platform. I told my love that I was there for tech support, but, of course, I was eager to witness how this live classroom session was going to unfold.

My love earnestly stared at the screen, waving from time to time at the familiar faces on the other end. Headphones were now on. My love diligently began taking notes.

“This is going well”, I thought to myself. That was a comforting thought, as I had been understandably apprehensive about the whole idea.

At the end of the first class, my love faced me, eyes downcast and brimming with tears.

“What’s wrong?” I cautiously asked, half afraid to hear the answer.

“This is different.”

I patted the bed and motioned for my love to sit beside me. As I embraced my little one, the tears broke their banks and streamed down my love’s face.

“I know that this is different.” I tried to console. “But perhaps different isn’t a bad thing.” “Different doesn’t mean forever. ”
“Yes, this is new. But you can do it. I believe in you.”

A few days later, I again sat in that room with my other love as we waited for the live session to begin. This little love seemed to be adjusting well to the whole online experience. I rubbed my love’s knee and softly whispered, “I’m so proud of you. You are handling this so well.”

My love looked at me wide eyed and said, “Really? I thought I was doing bad.”

“Not at all”, I assured. “You are faced with something we never expected, and you are being brave.”
“You can’t compare any of this to what you are accustomed to doing.”
“You are showing up in the face of the unknown and that is all that matters.”

I hoped that my words offered a measure of peace. I fear, however, that while we may all be isolated, these feelings are not.

I can’t help but notice how easy it is to feel overwhelmed by all of the sudden changes taking place around us. This really is different. And so- because it is so different – and because we are so far away from everything we have ever known- it becomes even easier to assume that we aren’t managing. That we aren’t doing enough. That maybe we are failing.

But that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Just as our kids can’t possibly compare this new learning environment to the comfort and security of their classroom, we can’t judge our efforts to adjust by the conventional standards that applied to us just a few months ago.

Our society is different.
Our productivity is different.
Our output is different.
And so, our expectations must be different.

Now, each time I feel overwhelmed by the newness that surrounds every facet of our daily routine, I close my eyes and I remind myself:

“I know that this is different. But perhaps different isn’t a bad thing.”

“Different doesn’t mean forever.”

“Yes, this is new. But you can do it.”

“You are faced with something we never expected, and you are being brave.”

“You can’t compare any of this to what you are accustomed to doing.”

“You are showing up in the face of the unknown and that is all that matters.”

This is different. But we will get through this.
We are doing enough.
We are being brave.
We are showing up.

And yes, that is all that matters.