Week one down in the Big Mumma House… and there has been one major lesson learned – teachers don’t get paid enough to do this gig.
Homeschooling three kids is like trying to herd bees: They communicate with one another but don’t seem to understand anything I say, they’re irresistibly drawn to anything sweet and, if I take my eye off them for a second, they buzz off.
It’s not going to end well, is it?
We started with such enthusiasm. Determined to stick to a routine, on day one we were up, showered, breakfasted and ready for education by 9am.
Daughter and I got stuck into a fascinating primary five project on space and the solar system, middle child was busy doing some online practice on Pythagoras’ theorum and eldest was reading some dystopian literature by George Orwell.
Day two, the start time was pushed back to 9.30 because everyone had stayed up too late.
I struggled to convince my daughter that the guy who developed a cure for smallpox in the 18th century was not one of the Kardashians, even though his name was Edward Jenner.
Middle child wrote a script for a drama project about a fun day at a fairground, which was supposed to be a happy story but ended with the unnecessary crashing to earth of a rollercoaster ride and the deaths of many spectators (yeah, I’m wondering about “hidden meaning” too).
The eldest was reading old Viz magazines.
Day three. They had to be dragged out of bed at 10, daughter felt like doing nothing but gymnastics, middle child went in the huff because the chocolate biscuits had run out and eldest spent the morning in the toilet reading the backs of shampoo bottles.
Well, that’s what he said.
And so it has continued, in ever-decreasing educational effectiveness.
The other day, I set them a home economics challenge and suggested they make their father a birthday cake because he won’t get the nice meal at the new steak restaurant he’d been so looking forward to.
I’m sure the flat and strangely deformed sponge with orange icing and a weepy filling they assure me is buttercream will more than compensate for missing out on that slap-up treat, because the secret ingredient is love, apparently.
Actually, I suspect the secret ingredient might be salt. It’s easily confused with sugar and they’ve made that mistake before – but it’s the thought that counts.
Teachers have done a sterling job of posting coursework on school websites and sending messages through online blogs.
A coronavirus pandemic in an age without digital technology would be even worse than the ordeal we’re currently enduring.
Many ordinary teachers have been joined by celebrities/organisations in posting helpful recreation and education videos for the youngsters.
So many, in fact, that it’s actually becoming difficult to keep track of them all.
Where would we be without the magnificent Joe Wicks putting one million of us through our paces in the morning?
Even my mother attempted it.
And two star jumps is an achievement for an 81-year-old (I didn’t even know she could jump).
The Glasgow Science Centre’s daily films on Facebook (GSC at Home) are brilliant.
Thanks to a cool guy called Science Sam, I now know it’s possible to send a Tunnock’s Teacake into space.
Also great are the morning dance classes by everyone’s favourite Strictly professional, Oti Mabuse.
Facebook tuition by the stunning Ms Mabuse has become my hubbie’s favourite part of homeworking.
Can’t think why. He never seems to dance…
So we approach week two in the Big Mumma House with a rudimentary grasp of physics, basic knowledge of a funky dance routine, an understanding of how the smallpox virus was killed off and, above all, a fresh appreciation of teachers of all kinds.
So thanks to all of them for their patience – and apologies for inflicting our little “b’s” on you.
Every day’s a school day in this coronavirus age. Give us strength…
