Clark started kindergarten this week. It didn't go the way any of us had imagined it happening. He didn't need to set an alarm (because he was awake, dressed, and standing next to my side of the bed at 6:40am. I sent him to play with legos in his room and I went back to sleep for another full hour.), there was no bus to catch, backpack to unpack, or desk to find. Instead, we got up, walked downstairs, ate breakfast, brushed teeth, sat back down at the table, and opened up a chromebook.
We as parents have all had difficult decisions to make over the last 18 months. Not one of us has emerged from pandemic life unscathed. If you hear nothing else from my words, please hear this: I see you, I hear you, and I know it has been hard; whether you made similar parenting choices to ours, or the complete opposite.
After months of nightly discussions, tracking covid numbers in our community, discussing our options with our school and our pediatrician, and a whole lotta prayer, Ryan and I made the decision to start Clark in online learning. Y'all, I have seen less of a fuss made when someone announces that they are joining a cult than I saw when we told people that our five year old would be spending the first 10 weeks of kindergarten learning on a chromebook.
The dialogue usually goes a little something like this: we are asked about Clark starting school. Then the room turns into Who Wants to be a Millionaire: the lights dim, save for one bright, blue-tinted, hot spotlight shining directly into our face. Regis, God rest his soul, looks us dead in the eye and asks us "is that your FINAL answer?", there is a long pause, everyone is uncomfortable, we are silently doubting our answer, and then mercifully, the person we are conversing with decides whether we made the correct selection or not. A few times during this summer-that-seems-to-have-lasted-for-six-years, we have experienced the proverbial studio lights come back on, we are praised for our correct response, and we all joyfully move on.
That scenario, friends, is not the one I choose to write about today. Because if we have learned anything from this little corner of the internet, it's that in the awkward and uncomfortable moments of my life, there's usually some pretty funny material in there if we dig hard enough.
The response sequence that Ryan and I have most often found ourselves in is as follows: the person we are conversing with slowly and quietly repeats the word "online" to themselves, over and over again while we stand there quietly, nodding and smiling, and waiting for our conversation partner to scan their brain for socially acceptable words that seem to always escape them in this part. After what feels like seven full minutes of silence, they usually perk up as if they have just thought of the most supportive answer, smile, and in every. single. case we have experienced, their voice jumps up an octave as they exclaim, "well, that's okay!"
It is at this point that their inner monologue becomes audible for the whole room. We watch as they desperately try to find another supportive sentence to follow up that groundbreaking statement of acceptance that they just expressed to us. If you can get past the skin-melting awkwardness of it all, it really is the funniest thing I have witnessed since my binge viewing of 'Schitt's Creek' during the first quarantine.
Listen, I know that this decision is not a terribly popular one. Ryan and I agonized over it, and questioned ourselves and each other as if we were quizzing the other one on our plotted bank heist to be sure there are no holes in our story (sidebar: if you ever need to rob a bank and your choices for a partner have woefully led you to the Sloan residence, pick me. I'm a terrible liar, I get all sweaty when I'm nervous, and I'd probably demand way too little money to make it worth anyone's time, but I'd still last longer under interrogation than Ryan.). But, it is our decision, and one that I assure you, we have not taken lightly. We are fully prepared that if Clark becomes a 3rd grade dropout who can be found smoking cigarettes in an alley behind a 7-11, we'll know that it was definitely this decision where things took a turn.
Can you imagine if we all just started responding to other peoples' life choices with a combination of condolences and resignation for their future?!
Person 1: 'Hey Sloans, I'm getting married to this person that I love!"
Sloans:
Sloans:
Sloans: 'Well...that's okay!"
Person 2: 'Hey Sloans - I got my hair cut!'
Sloans:
Sloans: 'Well...that's okay! It'll work out. Probably..."
Person 3: 'Hey Sloans! I'm pregnant!"
Sloans:
Sloans: (smile fades)
Sloans: 'Well...hmmm...well, that's okay! I'm sure it will be fine! You have probably considered the lifelong consequences of this decision, and somehow landed on this one, but...yeah! We're saying it with enthusiasm to try to make ourselves more comfortable!'
Friends, it has been a long, hard year and a half of isolation. People-ing was hard enough before we had to consider masks, 3-or-6-feet-of-distance, and which-kind-of-learning-model we each enrolled our kids in. I know we are all doing our best, and it is less-than-ideal no matter how you slice this gooey shit sandwich we find ourselves living in. I think most of us are doing our best to re-enter society and feign excitement and support over each other's wrong decisions.
So anyway, Clark started kindergarten. It didn't go the way any of us had imagined it happening, and that's okay. Just like your hair.
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