On this one-hundred-and-something-ish day of being a virtual school teacher’s assistant, IT support, lunch lady, PE Coach, and Dad I’m finding myself talking more and more to myself. The virtual teacher’s lounge has become the safe space in the house (er… school) between classroom meltdowns to pour another cup of Mother’s Little Helper from the coffee pot and gossip about the day. I can get the other teachers chuckling during our coffee breaks as I ramble, sometimes coherently but increasingly not so much, about overcrowded classrooms, why we should bring back the long-abandoned Presidential Physical Fitness Challenge and the struggles of maintaining a diversified yet nutritious cafeteria.
Can you believe it? I had this one kid today. Well, the same one as yesterday. They’re all just so needy. “The internet is glitchy.” They say. “The laptop battery won’t hold a charge. We’re out of toilet paper. Sandwich and grapes… Again.”
My teachers silently agree with me. I see them smiling. That may be my reflection. I need to call the superintendent and have them clean the windows. (Okay Google. Set an alarm to call me about cleaning the windows.)
Occasionally a peer will interrupt, “Actually, I was just calling to give you information about your car’s extended warranty.”
“Go on, I have all day good sir.” I offer. “I lease my vehicle but surely there is something we can work out here. Fire at will with your plan.”
“I’ll remove you from our list. Thank you for your time.”
The line is quiet now but that’s no worry. More time to talk about me. Ah, silence. Now that he is gone, where was I. And Covid. No Price is Right!
But realizing I’m talking to robots is not nearly as dreary as when I catch him on an after-school video game break talking to himself like his old man does. Like lockdown Father… like Son.
I mean, I’m a grown-up. I’ve been talking to real people my whole life… Time for a break. But, he has a whole life ahead yet. You run out of words when it’s one-sided. So I’ve learned. I’ve told myself that joke before.
So he is ten years old. He’s online, playing a game with friends or virtual friends (one and the same these days) and laughing and chatting and sharing stories and I’m so happy he’s interacting with someone other than his father as it’s just him and I all day every day these days while my wife works and then I find him… With no headset on!
He’s playing. He’s talking. I assume someone is answering the other half of the conservation and filling in the blanks in the story as the pauses are perfectly timed… But I realize he may not even be playing an online cooperative game after all! He could be talking to a Minecraft creeper. But, who hasn’t these days and I guess a creeper is animate at least. Which is something better than talking to a Lego brick or a blanket or the robot vacuum.
Don’t judge. Miss. Knockoff Roomba has been very kind to me.
But I’ve had many lopsided conversations on single-player Minecraft of late. So who am I to worry? I tend to my world and grow my crops and have had some very engaging conversations with my villagers about the state of the economy, politics, and the future of home automation. They agree that when the Robots become self-aware they will be much more engaging. Conversations with them will be exceptionally healthier than the debates I’ve had on Facebook about driving cars and the bungling nature of our current administration’s response to the Covid crisis. Miss Knockoff Roomba spins and dances at my suggestions. No angry emoji faces from her.
And then comes lunch and I’m in charge again. I’ve come to appreciate the sadistic joy the lunch staff must have had during my Catholic grade school days as they ladled out the Sloppy Joes with so much vigor the bun couldn’t handle the weight of the routineness or as they so lovingly slapped a slab of Steakumm on the roll like they were sending us out to pasture with a spank on the hindquarters and a blown kiss to say, “My day is done with you. Eat your meal and off I go… for tomorrow we will do this again. There will be more of the same as today. Except for Friday when it’s the leftover day!”
But the part of the day is recess. It’s just the two of us. Pupil and Teacher. Father and Son. Barriers are down and we throw a football or take a walk. We keep each other in check as we talk about learning math for the first time again. Or the second time for me.
It does feel like we are making memories that we will have forever.