In this Church House Blog, the Revd Jenny Bridgman, Director of Studies for Pastoral Workers, Associate Vicar of Timperley, and mum of three primary aged children, shares her personal account of the challenges of homeschooling and urges us all to reach out to friends, family and neighbours and "be the calming presence" they might need. Jenny blogs about Leadership, Ministry, Parenting and Spirituality (sometimes all at once!) at Out of the Chancel.
20 January 2021
By the Revd Jenny Bridgman, Director of Studies for Pastoral Workers
jenny.bridgman@chester.anglican.org
My day revolves around a whiteboard. Each morning, we copy very carefully the day’s timetable for each of the five people in our house:
9am – B Maths lesson
10am – Dad funeral, C Literacy lesson, Mum phone calls
11am – Mum meeting, E Phonics work
12 noon – Lunch
1pm – “PE”
1.30pm – Mum desk work, B Literacy lesson, E Painting, Dad meeting
3pm – Mum meeting, C “Storytime” live lesson
7pm – Mum teaching, Dad meeting, B, C E – bedtime!
It looks so orderly, but the whiteboard lies. It doesn’t tell you about the crumbs and spills, the toilet accidents and the squabbles, the meltdowns (mine, mostly) and the curveball phonecalls and the malfunctioning technology and the pressure. It doesn’t tell you that our youngest child has taken to regular toileting accidents because of her lack of routine, that the middle and eldest children cry to be in school with their friends (and that Mum and Dad are WAY too embarrassing to appear anywhere on the camera during live lessons). It doesn’t tell you about the sheer amount of Haribo needed as bribery for one sentence of writing: nor about slammed doors and frustration bubbling into anger and the 3am nightmares and the sheer endlessness of it all.
Jenny homeschooling with her middle child
Like millions of parents, my home and work were thrown into chaos last month with the shock announcement at 8pm one January evening that most children would be home learning from 8am the following morning. A good decision with terrible timing, as the relentlessness of parenting took on new meaning for the second time in 12 months. This is the reality of home learning facing so many in our parishes.
I am painfully aware of my privilege. We are blessed with a large vicarage and garden, with technology that just about meets the demands of five people living and working online. We have an income and food, we are two responsible adults with flexible diaries, and our home is mostly warm and comfortable. We are healthy and safe. Our children are part of a supportive school, and we are surrounded by friends within our community. We have more privilege than most.
But I need you to know the impossibility of our situation. Not for sympathy or for a solution, but because the strain and stress on families right now is significant, and our awareness of this must lead us to prayer and practical support through these painful days. If my family, with all our privilege and competence and support, are struggling through this, then chances are you, or someone you know, is struggling too.
It’s hard to say “it’s hard”. The pressure to be a good priest (or colleague) and a good parent is ever present, and something I have spoken and written about for years. That pressure through these days has intensified and grown. People respond to traumatic circumstances differently, either accelerating into ‘heroic’ responses, or shutting down almost completely. Neither frame of mind is conducive to a comfortable atmosphere for living, working, and learning at home 24/7. It is near impossible to step back from this and ask for help. Partly because there is little that can be done. In this situation, awareness is probably as good as solutions.
If you know someone in this situation, please make contact. Ask them about it. Tell them you can see how impossible it is. Be the calming presence at the end of a text message. If you have oversight of or responsibility for them, please do all you can to take off the pressure from the people you manage. Listen to and hear their pain. Your awareness can be enough.
If you want to do more, some of the kindest things people have done for us include writing letters to the kids, recording bedtime stories via WhatsApp, sending chocolate in the post, and (once!) the very generous delivery of an afternoon tea. Flowers, biscuits or wine left on the doorstep could all say, “I can see this is hard”.
And if you are living through the relentlessness of balancing the demands of childcare and work, you are not alone. If it feels impossible, that’s because it is. The cliché “be kind to yourself”, as overused as it is, is never more important than now. Be kind, let go, and know that whatever you can manage is enough.
Through these days I am holding onto a prayer from the New Zealand Prayer Book, with the line:
It is night after a long day.
What has been done has been done;
what has not been done has not been done;
let it be.
New Zealand Prayer Book
My day ends with the same whiteboard. We rub it off: a blank slate, and await the timetable for the following day. Time moves a day, an hour, at a time. Perhaps more will be left undone than done in these days, and that’s ok. It must be if we, and our children, are to emerge from this winter more whole in body, mind and spirit.
Feeling out of sorts and not quite yourself?
The Diocese of Chester takes seriously the wellbeing of staff, clergy and parishioners. The diocesan Wellbeing Group has collated some resources to help you, which you can find here, including clergy support groups, confidential groups, made up of six individuals from parishes across the diocese. They aim to be a place for clergy to reflect upon life and ministry within an atmosphere of confidentiality and trust.
Watch below the Head of Counselling, the Revd Peter Mackriell, talk about the clergy support groups.