I watch my second grader click unmute on the Zoom screen. “What did you ask me?” he says to his teacher. “I didn’t hear you because my mom was telling me to pay attention.”
Listening off-screen, I cringe.
I consider cutting off the power and claiming loss of signal because I’m shrinking in my seat from embarrassment. I probably shouldn’t eavesdrop or drop advice while my son is virtual schooling. But he was missing out on crucial information while working on his scariest monster face for the camera. Sadly, this isn’t the first time my 7-year-old has tattle-taled on me to his teacher, classmates, and the other parents secretly observing — and it won’t be the last because I hover during virtual classes.
One of my mom goals has been to raise an independent human person.
I want my son to speak his truth, do his thing, and be able to find his own keys and wallet. As he’s grown older, I’ve done my best to take some age-appropriate steps back because I’d like for him to feel that sense of satisfaction that goes along with being self-sufficient. Well, that was until we started virtual school.
During online learning, I lurk around him like my dogs hang around me when I’m eating a block of cheese.
While my dogs are hoping to catch bits of falling food, I’m hoping to catch my son not paying attention. When I notice him watching the inside of his nose on the screen instead of his teacher, I give him a gentle reminder. At first, these helpful hints were few and far between. Now, he’s grown comfortable in his home/virtual school lifestyle and the reminders are coming in at warp speed.
I struggle with how much I should redirect.
I worry that left to his own devices my kid will spend class time playing hide-and-seek with the camera without any regard for what the teacher is teaching him. The last thing I want is for my 7-year-old to feel confused and discouraged during a time when he already feels confused and discouraged. So I hover to stop him from falling behind and help him keep at pace, but somehow I feel like we’re both losing the race. Is part of motherhood letting go to knowingly watch your kid fail?
Letting my kid fail feels harsh and more like a failure in my own parenting skills.
I wish there was a perfect lesson plan that could help me ace this predicament, but there’s no preapproved program for parenting in this health climate. Because I can feel my hovering is taking away some of the confidence my son was beginning to build in his independent self, I’ll settle for more off-camera encouragement and less on-camera nitpicking. I’ll try giving my son the space he needs to learn more than just new math while also satisfying my parental need to be there to catch him before he falls.
