By David Mangene, 19 March 2020, Utrecht – the Netherlands.
Yeah, how you doin’? Remember that part just four days ago when I was all zen buddhist about the corona? Back when I was overflowing rivers of acceptance and patience. Back when my life’s motto was: “we’ll just ride it out at home, together”. Quaint, don’t you think? Quaint and long since forgotten because today I’m a raging ball of pent up fury. That didn’t take long did it?
“But how could this happen, David. You were so full of hope” I hear you asking yourself. “You were gonna read and write and do the yoga and take the naps…” Yoga? Are you high?! There’s no time for yoga. There’s only time for what shall henceforth be known as Dante’s 27th ring of hell… home schooling.
For the uninitiated: home schooling is when you, the adult, attempt to teach your delightful offspring in the comfort of your own home. Sounds like a hell of an idea on paper, especially given the current outbreak. Alas, dear reader, for there is a hitch. As it turns out, professional teachers really are professionals. They learned how to do this shit. For years. No wonder it took years, because to do it effectively is bloody difficult. I may be a loving father, and a reasonably intelligent human being, but I can’t just plonk down a trigonometry book and expect the kid to learn through osmosis. Hell, I can’t even understand the trigonometry questions! It’s all Mandarin to me, baby.
If there’s one thing corona has taught me, just this morning in fact, it’s this: every single teacher who actually manages to impart wisdom onto one of my children without committing acts of grievous violence upon said child, should immediately be awarded at least one of Donald Trump’s alleged billions. We’ll call it the ‘President Trump Gives To Teachers Fund’. I’m sure he’ll love it!
I don’t know, man. Just kinda losing the marbles today. Watching too much news. Reading too much news. And I’m never gonna have a future as a high school teacher.
Stay the course, kids.