As most of you know, I have always maintained that my son is pretty damn awesome. He’s considerate, kind, a hard worker. He’s a little shy, but overall a good kid. We’ve never had any problems with him. He always strove to please us, and as far as we know, never lied to us.
Distance learning has been a struggle for him. He’s openly said that he hates it and can’t wait to go back to school— a sentiment I am sure many kids are feeling. I check in with him daily, asking questions like, “Did you go to your classes? Is all your work done?” Pretty basic stuff.
His answers were always the same. “Yeah.”
I started receiving emails two weeks ago. Teachers wondering why he wasn’t in class, warning me he hasn’t turned assignments in. I went to him and asked about it, showing him the emails. I wasn’t mad, I was worried. “What’s going on? Do you need help? How can I help you?”
With his continued answers of “I don’t know” and “Nothing” I was at a loss. How could I help if he wasn’t letting me in?
I tried a different tact. “We expect you to be doing your work. This is your responsibility.” Still, I saw no real engagement on his part. The last email we received, detailed how far down my son has fallen in his academics.
I enlisted my husband’s help. “I don’t know what to do.” I said. “I want to help but he just shuts down and won’t talk, he won’t engage in a conversation so I have nowhere to go with it.”
My husband reminded me. “Carson was exactly the same.”
How could I have forgotten! It was only seven years ago that our oldest daughter was struggling in school. Whenever we tried to talk to her, she shut down and started silently crying. No matter how we approached it, no matter how gently we tried to nudge her into conversation, the result was the same.
Since neither one of us could remember how we brilliantly navigated that situation, we went to the source and called Carson.
Unfortunately, she was of little help, wanting to call her brother and talk to him herself. “Please talk to him if you think you can,” I encouraged.
The thing is, she’s away at college. She isn’t here to ask about his work on the daily, to make sure he stays on track. We, as his parents, still needed a way to communicate with him. For now, there is no convenient answer, no magic cure. We bought him a dry erase calendar to write his assignments on. My husband will take over check-ins since Cole has not been honest with me. And we will cross our fingers and hope it is just a phase we can wave goodbye to once the schools re-open for good.
Rebecca Lamprey 