Your child, your rules
One of the biggest (non-health related) repercussions of COVID-19 and the 2020 lockdown was the closure of schools and the subsequent remote-schooling. Although N was only just 4 at the time and not necessarily in an academically ‘essential’ phase of schooling, he went from having specialised schooling and intensive speech and occupational therapy to having absolutely nothing overnight. This was a massive loss for him and one from which we only saw the true repercussions over the months that followed. Of all the things I ever wanted to be, a preschool teacher was never one of them and I’ve written previously about how pre-school speech therapy certainly is not in my wheelhouse.
Our social media feeds were flooded with children sitting at (clean) kitchen tables participating in their remote lessons with their parents quietly sipping a smug cup of coffee next to their Pinterest-worthy charts and timetables. I was creating a tiered bribery system involving smarties and screen-time, while trying to use eyeliner to hide that N had woken up 6 times the night before and check the laptop angle so that no one could see I was still in pyjama bottoms (while seriously contemplating a swig of vodka directly from the bottle at 10:00a.m.).
There is nothing like remote schooling and therapy to give you a front row seat to your child’s difficulties. I was never blind to N’s needs, but it’s like they were suddenly under a massive spotlight and I couldn’t look away. While I don’t believe that attending classes and therapy sessions via Zoom is an accurate reflection of ‘real life’, the whole experience certainly exposed a lot of N’s challenges in a very harsh and raw way. It also caused extreme anxiety and behavioural regression, such as frequent night-time waking and regular tantrums (which had not been in a feature in our lives for a long time). There were days when I did not recognise my child and his behaviour. I kept saying to my husband that this was not the happy and loving child that I knew. This was a frustrated stranger who was behaving like a caged animal and lashing out at me because I was now his mother, teacher, therapist and nanny. It was all too much for him and the day came when he was curled in my lap in the foetal position, sobbing and begging me to sing “rock a baby”. Heart-breaking. It was time to make some decisions about what was right for N and for our family – not for the school, not for other kids, not for other parents and certainly not to match up to society’s expectations. No Zoom class or therapy session was worth my relationship with N, his mental health or his emotional wellbeing. I was done with the visual schedules, the bribery snacks and signing in for sessions every 30-60 minutes each morning (while also fitting in my own work and the housework).
We didn’t pull the plug on school entirely – we left the option open and we continued with as much therapy as we could (remotely and on-site). When school was allowed to reopen in September and N could go back (even 2-3 times a week), it was like the switch was flipped again and he almost instantaneously reverted to his old self. The change was so blatant that there was no question in my mind as to which set of circumstances posed the greater risk to him. So, when we were awaiting the decision by the Department of Education on Friday 15/01/2021, I was overwhelmed with anxiety that N’s school would be forced to close again just days after they had opened for the new year. I was beside myself at the thought – not only was I back at work too, but our wine supply was perilously low. Jokes aside, he had settled beautifully and was so thrilled to be back among his peers that I hardly had the heart to explain to him that he may not be able to go back for another month (at least). The relief when we received correspondence that centres of Early Childhood Development could stay open was immense, maybe selfish too. I just want N to be happy, to be stimulated and to be receiving the very specific input that he needs and which I absolutely cannot give him. I am his mother, not his teacher. I am a therapist, not his therapist. He needs his ‘team’ and he needs me to be his ‘home’.
Thank you for sharing your journey. Your writing is so authentic and powerful. Your life. Your rules!