Home Learning and Being Okay with Just Okay

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July. Two-thousand and Twenty. The second lockdown in Melbourne had begun. I had no idea how long it would go– the painful months to come of steal rings and five ks. But when our school holidays were interrupted with a call to lockdown, my optimistic and perhaps deluded heart thought that Prep students like my twins would be excluded from any school closures. After all, my boy had already had to restart prep twice. Surely, surely the government wouldn’t insist they do it for a third time?

But they did insist, and I was heartbroken. But more than that, I was scared. Insomnia has never been a particular struggle of mine, but the night I found out I’d be doing home learning again, I lay there for hours in fear and despair. I couldn’t! I just couldn’t.


Why was I so afraid? I done it before and I coped okay. But about an hour into my panic, I realised why I was scared. I didn’t want to let my boys down. I wanted them to have the best education possible and I knew the ‘best education’ wasn’t going to come from me. I didn’t know how to teach kids to read and write. I didn’t know how to be a mum and a teacher together. A few weeks had been ok because it didn’t matter; the teachers would catch them up. But a whole term? That really mattered. I was just okay, and that wasn’t good enough. I was going to fail my darling boys.

And I hate failing.


Fear of failure is the achilles heel of the intellectually competent. I was the academic kid at school, who after a slow start at primary school– breezed through the humanities and the sciences at high school and topped my year level due to my consistency. I’m used to being able to do things really well. And though (like everyone) there is an even bigger list of things I can only do okay, those were the things I avoided. Because if I didn’t do the things that I’m ordinary at, then I’d never fail. 

Of course this is a terrible way to live. It robs you of the chance to try things that take time and effort to master, but which have rewards in both the learning of the skill and eventual competency.

But failure is scary. And the longer you go without failing, the more scary it becomes. Until you inevitably hit something that you MUST do, even if you’re not good at.

Like Home Learning.

Or Motherhood.

For isn’t motherhood the ultimate leveller? When competent, capable women (often) take a break from the jobs they’ve trained for and find themselves drifting on the churning sea of nappies, sleep schedules and contrary opinions. Where every day there is a new failure to pick yourself up from. Breast feeding and sleeping through the night and what-did-I-do-all-day.

Motherhood was good preparation for the ‘I’m just okay at this” world of home learning.

But it didn’t make it any less scary.

So Lockdown Two began, and along with it, the most intense block of home learning I hope ever to experience. Google meets and uploading onto Seesaw and trying to balance my own wish to provide a good experience for my boys with my own exhaustion and needs. Just okay- which of course with my high standards felt like failure. Falling off the bike and getting on it again the next day. And the next. And the next.

A week before home learning started, I’d begun a new writing project. A story where the protagonist’s only path out of heart-break was to grow competent in two skills she was terrible at. I didn’t write it to express the feelings I was experiencing in the second Melbourne lockdown. But boy did they come out on the page! Writing was a cathartic break from stress of home learning time. But it was more than a distraction–it actually made it better. You can’t control your own life, the challenges and even failures you face. But as a writer you can control your characters. Force them into situations where they have to fight their demon’s to get what they want. Make them strong while you are weak. And even borrow some of their strength for real life’s own little unavoidable battles.

My character learnt that competency was not the defining marker of her worth. And I learnt that just being okay wasn’t the failure I’d convinced myself it was.

And so, I pushed on. I was just okay at Home learning. But since I was the only possible teacher, that had to be enough.

Lockdown 2 had a happy ending. Not only did the never-ending lockdown end, but my boys had a wonderful term. When they returned back to school the teachers were thrilled with how they had learnt and grown. But I don’t pretend that was because I was a fabulous. I was still just okay. But it turned out, for that season, their just-okay-Mummy was what my boys needed.

Maybe that’s true for every season.

And now, as I I attempt to once again run home learning- this time with a third child in the mix, I’m reminded that school isn’t just about learning to read, write and do mathematics. It’s about perseverance. It’s about making mistakes. It’s about learning that being just okay, is actually okay.

And who better to teach them that than me.

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