Back on Campus

As August creeps along it feels more and more like living in a fan fiction rewrite of the movie Contagion. Anxiety builds and people focus on long-shot hopes of a vaccine even as children and teachers are sent back to school without one.  COVID-19 stats are positive enough in our county that my boys will go back to school two days a week starting August 17. I trust the superintendent's numbers and admire the thinking the district has done around safety measures and logistics, but I'm deeply worried. It's hard to know where to put my trust: in my children's behavior? face masks and improved air vents? God?

My youngest son is going to be a freshman. We haven't taken him to school to show him around the campus - we won't even have his schedule until August 12 so will have to wait until then to locate his classrooms. How will he meet people when everyone is wearing a mask? You can't see anyone smile under a mask, though I am all in favor of his wearing one 24/7. During his two days on campus he will have to negotiate lunch and his "off" periods (today's equivalent of study hall), and we are waiting for further instructions on how he should manage those. Choir is one of his electives, but we understand that they can't do choir this year, so what will replace it?

My senior wrestles with the idea of getting back into a schedule, managing deadlines and beginning his college applications. Hardly anything seems real; he even asked me if he should be stressed out or if he should just continue to go with the flow. Not knowing how to feel strikes me as perfectly normal, but from what I recall from my own senior year and from his older sister's, he should definitely be a little more stressed. Not that I want to add any pressure to his already strained life, but you still have to meet deadlines and apply to college on time.

In the face of the 2020 back to school quagmire, we are going camping this weekend. Higher altitude, lower temps, space and distance will all be required to calm our frayed nerves. Hopefully some campfires and toasted marshmallows will soothe our souls and put us in the adventurous mindset we'll need to get back on campus.

 

School's In: Time to Focus

Focus (v): 1. To concentrate effort or attention on a particular thing or aspect of a thing 2. To adjust your vision so that you see clearly and sharply, or become adjusted for clear vision

Yesterday I had two and a half hours of completely uninterrupted quiet time. Emails disappeared, to-do lists shrunk, meals virtually planned themselves and the junk draw got cleaned (OK – not that last one). I can safely say that I have not been so productive in over two months, and was relieved that such a level of productivity was still within my grasp. Our summer was wonderful and full of adventure, but so replete with exhausting activity and distracting demands that my head whirled like a kaleidoscope – eyes full of swinging, scrapping sun-screened kids and ears full of their cacophony – bickering challenges, shouts of joys, cries of frustration. I profoundly missed the time to concentrate on one task and the energy to see clearly what needed to be done and how to accomplish it.

Now that school has started I have approximately ten hours per week to myself, and another fifteen hours with just one child. I have plans to write, read difficult books, teach a few classes, and train for Spring Swimming Nationals (at the Masters level – a 40th birthday present to myself). As I planned and plotted for this time, anticipating its arrival as our fish quivers for its three daily morsels of food, I tended to place school-day stillness on a pedestal and ignore the benefits of summer’s “kaleidoscope mind.” A line from John Elder Robison’s (http://www.johnrobison.com/) book, 'Look Me in the Eye: My Life with Asperger's' poked me to the benefits of unfocused time:

“As I recall my own development, I can see how I went through periods where my ability to focus inward and do complex calculations in my mind developed rapidly. When that happened, my ability to solve complex technical or mathematical problems increased, but I withdrew from other people. Later, there were periods where my ability to turn toward other people and the world increased by leaps and bounds. At those times, my intense powers of focused reasoning seemed to diminish.” (208)

Robison writes about his particular journey with Asperger’s and the fine line between his amazing gifts with circuitry and sound, and his ability to socialize. Yet I found his words applicable to my situation, as well. When I give myself over to my children, their friends, our extended family and our family friends, as I do in the summer, I lose the ability (and time) to focus on a specific task. Yet I gain flexibility, better relationships, shared memories, and new experiences. In the past I have had a tendency toward tunnel vision: over-focusing, if you will, on the task at hand. I have prioritized goals and accomplishments over relationships and pursued depth rather than breadth in my life. I take a rebuke in this statement Robison also wrote, “Creative genius never helped me make friends, and it certainly didn’t make me happy. My life today is immeasurably happier, richer, and fuller as a result of my brain’s continuing development (toward relationships)” (210).

So here’s to well-roundedness, and in particular the quiet time of school days. Let’s hope the muscle memory of slower-paced summer days stays with us as we launch into a new season of focus.