It had been one of those days…and it was only 9:30 am. I had woken in a good mood, but that quickly spiraled into something else. My toddler was roaming the house before my coffee was ready. The other kids took him being awake as an excuse to come out of their rooms early as well. Before I had tasted one sip of coffee, an endless amount of banter had hit my ears.
“Mommy did you know?”
“Mommy, I had the strangest dream last night.”
“I saw what looked like rain out my window! Is it going to rain soon?”
“I couldn’t sleep because Aiden was loud.”
“I’m a dinosaur! Roar!” Yep, that’s the three year old.
Rather than engage them, I served them cereal then escaped into my phone. Big mistake. I love the momentary release or freedom I get from checking my notifications, but ultimately, choosing to do so in those moments hurts me and hurts them. I get lost in my phone, while the kids continue talking about everything and nothing. I hear them, but I don’t hear them. I’m trying to read and process over them, which is something I have discovered I do not do well. Because I can’t process the information in my hand, I get angry. I yell at them to be quiet. I snap about needing a moment’s peace to drink my coffee. I forget what I’m trying to do. I forget my purpose.
My phone is an amazing distraction. Did you read that last line? I forget my purpose.
Education is about relationship. I have chosen to educate my children at home. I have chosen to build a meaningful and purposeful relationship with each of them. I have chosen to experience wonder, awe, and curiosity with them. I have chosen to open their minds to the beautiful feast of learning available with them, sampling the different subjects together. I have also chosen to hear and know their hearts- the beautiful parts and the ugly ones.
Yet that silly phone has the power to make me forget all of that. A few moments escape, a chance to breathe, often does more harm. Why? Because in those moments, I become consumed. I become irritated by my children’s distractions, and I lose control.
In the chaos, I’m learning to lean in, not turn away. My mind becomes overwhelmed, but it is far better for all of us if I ask one child to explain their statement, or answer their question. It takes more work on my part, but the relational results are better. It’s far better for me to take turns giving each child my full attention for several minutes than it is to withdraw from them.
I’m working to be a mom who invites my children in rather than pushes them away. I’d like to think this extends to those too early and too tired mornings as well. A simple statement of “Mommy is really tired this morning. How about I drink my coffee while you talk to me?” does far more good than my phone ever will for us.
The simple fact I’ve come to recognize is I can’t scroll and pay attention to my kids simultaneously. I don’t like it when other adults do that to me. I can’t justify doing it to my children.
So, here I am, pressing reset. I’m putting the phone down, smelling the coffee as it brews, and listening to the constant chatter my children bring. May I lean into their energy and excitement, and learn to see the world as they do. A fresh spark of wonder could do me some good.
Here’s to you, educator. Teacher. Parent. To all of the crazy, and all of the wonder our students bring. May you also press reset, and lean into your student’s world with fresh perspective.