Almanac Life: Stuff that happened during Covid lockdown

 

 

I’ve been doing a bit of New Year tidying, getting bits and pieces into folders and I spotted the nine home-schooling observations I wrote during Covid.

I’ve put them all together in a single document.

They started out slowly, but gathered some momentum.

Lockdown and home-schooling were quite something. We actually went OK.

The kids learnt to cook and meal-times, especially the evening meal, became the centrepiece of family life.

 

 

 

Home-Schooling Observation 1

 

Evie9 is developing more and more opinions. She has a (minor) heel injury and is going to see a physio. In discussing this prospect, she says of the physio, “I hope she hasn’t got a brown bob. Because that’s the worst.”

[Why do I find this so funny?]

 

 

 

Home-schooling Observation 2: Plurals.

 

When Theo12 was in preschool, I was giving him a shoulder ride when he suddenly had a light-bulb, son-father mistrust moment (and then so did I):

 

Theo (in a voice from above my head): Dad.

 

Dad: What Theo?

 

Theo: You always call this a shoulder ride.

 

Dad: Yes, it’s a shoulder ride.

 

Theo: No it’s not Dad.

 

Dad: Yes it is. It’s not a piggy back. A piggy back is different.

 

Theo: I know that. But this is not a shoulder ride.

 

Dad: Why not?

 

Theo: It’s a shoulders ride.

 

After which the single shoulder ride, a sort of side saddle, was added to the whole shebang.

 

This has become a family story.

 

So, on Saturday morning, I’m in the bathroom brushing my teeth and Evie9 comes in.

 

Evie (squeezing toothpaste onto her toothbrush): Dad, what’s this called?

 

Dad: What! It’s toothpaste.

 

Evie: Yeah. But shouldn’t it be called teethpaste?

 

 

 

Home-schooling Observation 3: The sounds of education.

 

Those of us who’ve worked in high schools (I’ve always thought the correct verb is ‘to dread the boards’) will know that there are many around-the-school sounds.

 

Before-school Monday morning has the sound of greeting and chirpiness.

 

Tuesday’s lesson before lunch has a sound of, perhaps, industry.

 

Friday Period 1 has a slightly-relaxed, almost-there sound. You limp through Friday with the promise of after-school beers and cheap Chinese takeaway.

 

I think my favourite school sound is in that first half hour after school has finished. You’ve had a big day. Most have gone home. As you walk to the office to check your pigeon-hole, the school is very quiet. A single conversation reverberates around the undercroft. You can hear brooms. The shhhhhh of timed watering systems starting up. And whistles from the far-off oval.

 

But what I most remember from that moment is the sound of some thirteen year old straining to get a note out of a cheap violin, or the (discordant) Grade 8 band trying to knock out some uber-simplified Irving Berlin number.

 

Theo has been learning the trumpet at home for three months.

 

Yesterday, at about 4 o’clock, I wandered in from the (outside) study, came in the back door and was met with his novice version of Queen’s ‘We will rock you’.

 

Brilliant.

 

It was 1988 again.

 

 

Home-schooling Observation 4: Having a loud body.

 

We have our moments here in The People’s Republic [of Northcote]. Fair to say Theo12 and Anna10 don’t always see eye to eye. Anna will fire up. Theo will return fire.

 

I’m in the kitchen. Theo wanders down to the bathroom to pour petrol on a smouldering argument with Anna. Voices are raised. They’re yelling over each other. It’s Standard Kid Noise.

 

It goes on.

 

Then “Smack”. A cracking, slapping, hand-on-skin sort of blow that’s been delivered effectively enough to be heard over Standard Kitchen Noise.

 

Theo reacts. I deduce that Anna has been the aggressor.

 

Theo (very loudly): Annnaaaa!

 

Anna (just as loudly): You deserved it.

 

Dad [moving urgently through the lounge-room, ready to raise the voice]: Anna! I heard that!

 

Anna [innocently]: What?

 

Dad: You can’t hit people.

 

Anna: I didn’t.

 

Dad: You did.

 

Anna: I didn’t.

 

Dad: Anna, I heard it from the kitchen.

 

Anna: It wasn’t very hard.

 

Dad: It was. It was very hard.

 

Anna: Well, that’s because Theo’s got a loud body.

 

Dad: What?

 

Theo (nodding): That’s true Dad.

 

Anna: He’s got a really loud body. If you hit Theo, he makes a loud noise. Listen.

 

Dad: No! Don’t hit Theo again.

 

Anna: He’s really skinny. And he makes a loud noise.

 

Theo: I do. It’s OK Dad.

 

Dad returns to the kitchen.

 

 

 

Home-schooling Observation 5: Deciding on the syllabus.

 

We love travelling. Especially road trips in the BSC, Big Silver Car, as it was named about five years ago. One of the rituals of out road trips is to create an itinerary and timetable listing the major towns of the Newell Highway and the time we hope to reach them.

 

In January, Evie used the back of a Barbecue Shapes box to set up our return trip from Queensland.

 

As a result of her effort, I have added The Spelling of New South Wales and Victorian Country Towns, to their home-schooling syllabus.

 

My favourites are Girildiry and Shepiten. But I like all of them.

 

The kids travel well. Passing through Park(e)s during the Elvis Festival is an annual highlight.

 

 

 

 

 

Home-schooling Observation 6 – History

 

 

We’re still in Lockdown, but we’re not strangling each other, yet. In fact, we’re going OK. The evening meal is still a highlight and we have taken to playing a few board games.

 

 

The mega-capitalist Monopoly has to be smuggled into The People’s Republic of Northcote. And when we play it I give a little lecture on Gramsci and Bob Connell and hegemonic theory and false consciousness.

 

We go for more revolutionary games like Articulate. This is a genius game, the way Trivial Pursuit was a genius game when it first came out.

 

In Articulate there’s a board and your team makes its way along a path with squares towards Home by answering questions. The number of questions you answer while the egg-timer empties (about 45 seconds) is the number of coloured squares you move forward.

 

Each colour represents a topic. For example, you land on ‘Object.’ You then pick a card from the rack and you must describe the word in the ‘Object’ category without saying things like “Starts with f” or “sounds like pork”. You need to say “You eat with it.” And then you might say “knife and …” When they say “fork” you pick another card and do the word for Object and so on for the duration of the timer. As quickly as you can. Seven correct is brilliant, three is OK.

 

The tough topics for the kids are ‘The World’ and ‘People’. However, they have taken to articulating names rather creatively.

 

Last night Theo12 was doing People for Evie9. She was in rare form.

 

Theo (looks at the card and starts giggling): He’s a religious figure. Leader.

 

Evie: The Pope

 

Theo (drawing on his charades experience): No. Three words. Third word is not Alpaca but…

 

Evie: Llama

 

Theo: Second word. From Avatar. The people who protect the Earth.

 

Evie (excitedly): The Dai Li.

 

Theo: Put them together.

 

Evie: The Dai Li Llama.

 

Anna (smiling): Good enough.

 

JTH (Laughing and clapping): Magnificent.

 

Theo (takes a new card): Englishman. Surname has two syllables. First syllable is where you go to sing hymns and pray.

 

Evie: Church

 

Theo: Second syllable is like a mountain. Small.

 

Evie (really urgently, as time’s nearly up): Hill. Church-Hill. Churchill. Oh, what’s his first name? I know it. I know his first name. I know it. I know it. John Churchill.

 

Theo: No

 

Evie: James.

 

Theo: No.

 

Evie: I know it. I totally know it. It’s Justin. Justin Churchill. (fist-pump)

 

The game was paused while we recovered.

 

 

 

 

Home-schooling Observation 7 – Criminology meets Science

 

Most treats in our home are considered communal. The spirit of the commune, however, has to be massaged. Smarties, for example, will be counted (and possibly re-counted) and distributed accordingly. When it comes to chips, ‘about even’ applies when they are divided into bowls, but debates are more likely to ensue than not.

 

Birthday treats, however, do not have to be shared (even in The People’s Republic).

 

Anna turned eleven recently and, in a very Anna-ish way, she called on the sense of injustice which accompanies the (forced) lonely celebration of COVID birthdays in negotiating a birthday week. This included selecting the dinner menu for eight nights in a row. (By the way, this tradition is now entrenched and it works beautifully)

 

She also negotiated to receive two special chocolate treats, one a share treat (a block of Snack), and one a non-share treat (a great big bucket of Crunchie bites that look like kangaroo droppings).

 

Experience told Anna that when certain house members have a couple of beers while cooking dinner, and a few glasses of red with, and after, dinner, chocolate in and around the house is under serious threat.

 

A couple of days after Anna’s birthday, I hear her in the kitchen. I walk in:

 

JTH: Anna, what are you doing, it’s nearly 10?

 

Anna (fumbling around in the cupboard): Have you been asleep watching the footy Dad?

 

JTH: No.

 

Anna: You have Dad. I heard you snoring.

 

JTH: Oh.

 

Anna: Are you going to do the dishes?

 

JTH: I’ll do them in the morning, before everyone gets up.

 

Anna (pulling out the digital cooking scales): But Mum says…

 

JTH: It’s OK. What are you doing?

 

Anna (placing her bucket of Crunchie Bites on the scales): I’m weighing my Crunchies. Look, 323 grams.

 

JTH: Why?

 

Anna: Because I’m going to weigh them in the morning. And if it’s not 323 grams, you’re in trouble.

 

JTH: Really!

 

Anna: Yes.

 

JTH: Do you really think…

 

Anna: I don’t think, Dad, I know. And if there’s not 323 grams then I can get a new bucket from Coles. That’s the rules Dad.

 

 

 

 

Home schooling Observation 8 – Psychology

 

Each morning, Anna and Evie receive a video from their teachers. Congratulations to Teacher Anthony for his daily Dad joke. A fave so far: Why should nurses be given red crayons for Christmas? In case they have to draw blood.

 

The teachers have done a brilliant job. There is an element of performance, encouragement and instruction in their morning missives. The videos are warm and friendly and, importantly (for the sanity of the house), they set a number of tasks.

 

Evie’s approach to completing them is to work throughout the day, spacing her tasks, and having breaks to go out outside, or read, or do the occasional Zoom with mates, or to even help around the house.

 

Anna completes her set tasks rather quickly, then staggers the submission of her work across the whole day (to create her desired impression). However, I suspect she is doing them in the same way I do the dishes. T

 

Evie (picking up the small frying pan from the dish rack): Da..aaad!

 

JTH: What?

 

Evie: Look. It’s still got Mexican on it.

 

JTH: Why did God give us tea towels Evie?

 

Evie: Da…aad.

 

Mum (from the next room, exasperated): You won’t change him Evie.

 

So Anna spends a fair bit of time doing other stuff. This includes looking at cooking videos on the internet (they’re in the middle of a cooking craze at the moment), listening to music with headphones on, reading, or whatever.

 

Anna (from the loungeroom, to the household generally): Did you know the same person who wrote the Harry Potter theme wrote the Jaws theme?

 

Evie: Really?

 

Anna: Yeah, John Williams.

 

Evie: OK.

 

JTH: I think he’s done a lot of movies.

 

Followed by a period of silence.

 

Evie is at her desk. Theo is at his desk. I am making coffee when we hear a genuine scream from the loungeroom. Evie, used to Anna’s theatrical outbursts, is unmoved, but I sprint.

 

JTH: Anna, what happened? What’s wrong?

 

Anna (thrusting the iPad at me as Mum arrives too): I saw this.

 

JTH (laughing): That’s the Jaws poster.

 

Anna: I hate it.

 

JTH: Are you scared of sharks?

 

Anna: No, I’m scared of the poster.

 

JTH: That’s OK. But it’s just a picture.

 

Anna: No it’s not OK Dad. It’s scary.

 

JTH (detecting she’s actually a bit upset in an Anna sort of way): It’s OK to have fears.

 

Anna (not convinced): It’s really scary.

 

JTH: We all have fears.

 

No response.

 

JTH: I have fears.

 

No response.

 

JTH: Do you reckon you know what my biggest fears are?

 

Evie (from her desk): Someone kicking your wine over when you’ve put your glass on the floor Dad.

 

 

Homeschooling Observation 9 – Cooking

 

We were not a Master Chef, MKR sort of family – except for Zumbo’s Just Desserts (the kids can even chew like Rachel of the Red Lips) – until recently. With the elevation of cooking and eating thanks to Lockdown, the kids have been watching heaps of cooking shows and doing heaps of cooking.

 

Theo has always loved cooking. He’s our gravy and pavlova (home made) specialist. And he does a wicked peppercorn sauce (butter and red wine). One Sunday, he spent fourteen hours baking and assembling a triple decker cake for his class’s Zoom party.

 

Not to be outdone, Anna baked an equivalent monstrosity and then spent an entire day making (macarons) while Evie made cupcakes for Mum’s birthday (to go with the hamper they put together).

 

In Lockdown in our house (and no doubt many houses), everyone looks forward to meals, even afternoon tea (they do excellent scones), and especially dinner which is (easily) the highlight of the day.

 

The cooking shows have had an effect:

 

Anna (emerging from the kids’ room): What’s for dinner?

 

JTH: Pies. There’s left-over party pies for you.

 

Anna: Can I mash?

 

JTH: Sure. Do you want me to start you off?

 

Anna [frowning]: Why?

 

JTH: Because the spuds are big.

 

Anna: No. I’m good.

 

JTH: Sure.

 

Anna: I’ll call everyone when I’m done.

 

The minutes go by. No-one has been called to the table.

 

JTH [Returning from the study, to find Anna sitting at the table with a plate of mash in front of her]: What’s the hold-up?

 

Anna: There’s no hold-up.

 

JTH: What are you doing?

 

Anna [squeezing mash from a plastic bag with the corner cut out]: Piping mash around the outside of my party pies.

 

Anna has also been learning to crack eggs one-handed. (We’ve had a lot of scrambled eggs).

 

Evie is our cakes and biscuits specialist (and supreme mess-maker). The other day she was making giant pretzels. I was out in the study (which is on the other side of the courtyard). I could see the industry and activity going on through the kitchen window.

 

Evie has one of those faces that lights up with the sense of accomplishment. So, when she appeared at the study door, she was radiant. She burst in:

 

JTH: Hi Evie.

 

Evie (excitedly): Dad, quick, you need to come in. It’s time for The Reveal.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Read more from John Harms HERE.

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