No More School.
It’s as official as it was inevitable. This week, Massachusetts closed all public and private schools for the remainder of the school year. That means my five-year-old son won’t be returning to preschool, and that he’s home with me for the foreseeable future.
I don’t think this was an overreaction by the governor. While I don’t like being stuck home with an energetic child whose only playmate is his dad, it’s the sensible choice given the spread of this disease and the danger it poses. My sleepy suburban town, which is forty minutes from just about everywhere, reports 5-10 new confirmed cases per day. Even if school were to be reopen, I don’t know if I would have felt comfortable bringing him back. That doesn’t make any of this any easier, though.
His preschool teacher has been amazing, and doing her best to send activities to the class. Yesterday’s lesson included a note expressing her feelings on the governor’s decision, and my heart damn near broke. It added to the reality and finality of the situation to have his teacher mourning the loss of the school year. It made me sad for my son’s teachers and classmates, and all the things he’ll miss in these next few months. This is the logical, sensible choice… but it still sucks.
And I, perhaps selfishly, mourned the loss of my work days. While I’m falling into a routine that allows me to get some daytime work done, it’s not the same as having the house to myself for those precious few hours. It’s still a strain on my energy levels and concentration, and now that the school year is officially over there’s no end in sight. This is my reality now, and I’m going to have to adjust to this “new normal.”
It makes sense. I get it. I take it seriously. But I still sucks.