The best way to keep the children at home is to make the home atmosphere pleasant, and let the air out of the bike tires. Not that they had anywhere to go.
It’s not the tragedies that kill us; it’s the 7:30 AM start time, 8:00-8:45 read aloud, 9:00-9:30 music enrichment,10:05-11:00 small group math, 11:00-11:25 social-emotional session, 2:00-2:30 Español, and 2:45-3:05 wrap-up. I scarcely have time to diaper the toddler roaming the house or free associate on the myth of American exceptionalism.
Brevity is the soul of my patience when the music lesson is Family Freeze Dance.
Four be the things I am wiser to know: Clorox, Netflix, AirPods, espresso.
Four be the things I’d been better without: Worksheets, Zoom, OCD, and burnout.
Three be the things I shall never attain: Patience, joy, and fewer migraines.
Three be the things I shall have till I die: Trauma, stress, and dark chocolate supply.
Distance learning is the art of applying the bribe to the child.
The first thing I do in the morning is brush my teeth and agonize over whether my ability to oversee virtual school is contributing to inequality and widening the achievement gap.
Women and elephants never forget. Five- and six-year-olds consistently forget how to raise their hands in the chat room.
Summer made me drowsy,
Delusions made me sing,
Now it’s virtual kinder-hell,
Until the mid-semester pivot or spring.
The two most beautiful words in the English language are “Leave Meeting.”
Money cannot buy health, but it sure as hell could have hired an excellent tutor for a small learning pod.
If you want to know what God thinks of money, just look at the people he gave it to. Their kids are in private schools behind plexiglass sneeze guards.
I’d rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy. Although I’d prefer the lobotomy to another JAMA study on the baleful social-emotional effects of screen time on developing minds.
Time doth flit; well, it used to.
What fresh hell is this?