I’m not here to tell you what the “good thing” is about the coronavirus situation, because there is no good thing about a pandemic, not ever. That doesn’t mean there won’t be acts of heroism, because there will be, and heartwarming stories, because we’ll have those too, and even — if we’re lucky — moments of scientific brilliance. But we still have to get through the bad stuff. And getting through the bad stuff with your kids may be your act of heroism, your heartwarming story, and even your moment of scientific brilliance.
What I’m here to tell you, you already know, but even so, it’s always a hard thing to hear, at any age: we — the grown-ups — have to be the grown-ups here. And for those with young children, especially those at home now for the foreseeable future with those young children, with schools and day care centers closed, with “social distancing” the order of the day, I want to talk about getting through, making memories and being the grown-ups.
First a disclaimer: I’m a pediatrician and a mother of three, but I’m not particularly good at spending long periods of time with young children — or elementary-school-age children. I like children, and I think they’re interesting, and I’d certainly rather have them as my patients than adults, but I have always understood that I do not have what it takes to be even a decent day care teacher, or kindergarten teacher, or grade school teacher.
My kids had plenty of decent teachers, and not a few brilliant teachers, with all the energy and creativity and endless patience that I don’t have, and I worshiped them with the grateful fervor of the parent who knew that she paled by comparison. And certainly we should all acknowledge how much skill goes into doing these jobs well — and as we yearn for the world to start up again, maybe we’ll spare some energy to do that.
But here’s the thing — in addition to everything else that you are doing, if you are unexpectedly home with your kids right now, in addition to trying to work from home, and tracking all the worrisome news, and hoarding toilet paper (just kidding), not to mention looking up recipes for making your own hand sanitizer — in addition to all that, you are also making memories, and helping your kids lay them down.
This is going to be an event that defines their childhoods. It’s going to be a touchstone for the little kids whose schools have closed just as it is for the college students sent home when they expected to be spring breaking and senior springing. Decades from now, at their college reunions, this will be one of the things those students remember, what they hark back to, what they have in common.
It will be like the memories of where you were and what you understood on 9/11, or (for people my age) where you were and what you understood when John F. Kennedy was assassinated — but it will be more than that, because it will not just be about where you were and what you did at one defining point in time, but instead a memory of a long, strange interlude, when the world was interrupted. And heaven knows, there are many things about that future memory that are out of our control. So let me acknowledge the many levels of uncertainty, anxiety and catastrophic thinking that are gripping us all.
What I’m here to tell you, you already know, but even so, it’s always a hard thing to hear, at any age: we — the grown-ups — have to be the grown-ups here. And for those with young children, especially those at home now for the foreseeable future with those young children, with schools and day care centers closed, with “social distancing” the order of the day, I want to talk about getting through, making memories and being the grown-ups.
First a disclaimer: I’m a pediatrician and a mother of three, but I’m not particularly good at spending long periods of time with young children — or elementary-school-age children. I like children, and I think they’re interesting, and I’d certainly rather have them as my patients than adults, but I have always understood that I do not have what it takes to be even a decent day care teacher, or kindergarten teacher, or grade school teacher.My kids had plenty of decent teachers, and not a few brilliant teachers, with all the energy and creativity and endless patience that I don’t have, and I worshiped them with the grateful fervor of the parent who knew that she paled by comparison. And certainly we should all acknowledge how much skill goes into doing these jobs well — and as we yearn for the world to start up again, maybe we’ll spare some energy to do that.
But here’s the thing — in addition to everything else that you are doing, if you are unexpectedly home with your kids right now, in addition to trying to work from home, and tracking all the worrisome news, and hoarding toilet paper (just kidding), not to mention looking up recipes for making your own hand sanitizer — in addition to all that, you are also making memories, and helping your kids lay them down.
This is going to be an event that defines their childhoods. It’s going to be a touchstone for the little kids whose schools have closed just as it is for the college students sent home when they expected to be spring breaking and senior springing. Decades from now, at their college reunions, this will be one of the things those students remember, what they hark back to, what they have in common.
It will be like the memories of where you were and what you understood on 9/11, or (for people my age) where you were and what you understood when John F. Kennedy was assassinated — but it will be more than that, because it will not just be about where you were and what you did at one defining point in time, but instead a memory of a long, strange interlude, when the world was interrupted. And heaven knows, there are many things about that future memory that are out of our control. So let me acknowledge the many levels of uncertainty, anxiety and catastrophic thinking that are gripping us all.
by Perri Klass, MD, NY Times | Read more:
Image: Getty
