Back to School

Listening to Gretchen Rubin’s podcast this week, I couldn’t agree more, September is a new start

Here in the UK children are going back to school in the next two weeks. They may have to get used to some new things, like masks in the corridors, or eating at their school desks if they can’t be outside. They may have to learn some things afresh like how to sit still in class, how to write again, how to be around people but not too close. But it’s clear a decision has been made that school is essential again.

I am really looking forward to some routine in our lives. Even though we muddled through home-learning (what we attempted could never be called a homeschool), we never hit a routine more than my son reminding me it was play time each morning. I am looking forward to some time to myself and seeing friends though with the new rules in place, not getting too close or seeing anyone too often. I am also looking forward to a sense of some normality, though it has all changed, the new normal is better than that time we stayed inside our house for three months.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

The fact that school is definitely back has led to a few discussions in our household already. Being a Mum of a kid whose special needs mean he resists changes and transitions anyway, I am used to battles about going to school. But Social Story in hand and special visit arranged we are going boldly forward with the “school is now open” full time plan. At times I feign optimism for him, mixed with the dread that sits in my stomach most days now. I am also getting more positive that this will be good for both of us.

It’s clear that the government is scrambling to convince parents it is safe, new policies are coming out every day that suggest what will happen, how things will change, if we have a local lockdown. But in the meantime there are news articles about how safe children are at school. I have been reading all the articles, despite trying to stay away from the news. It’s safe now. We think. Mercifully our children will not get terribly ill if they catch the virus, I just hope that mildness means the same can be said for us and their teachers if they do pass it on.

In a bid to read between the lines I think the answer is we probably don’t know what will happen in the next few months. As it stands, the government seem pretty determined that the schools will stay open come what may. Afterall, they kept the pubs open even though family members couldn’t meet at home in Manchester and Yorkshire in recent weeks, I guess they will do the same with schools. And hope for the best. Because that is where we are really.

So though the news articles haven’t completely allayed my fears, I can’t help but feel a sense of newness in the air. I wonder if despite the challenges ahead for me and my son, I can find ways to lift the anxiety and get back to normal. Gretchen Rubin explains here in the article which accompanied her recent podcast that September is the new January because it can give us a sense of a clean slate. That means that when you make a big change in your life, you can often change a habit at the same time, “exploiting the new” as she describes it. So for me I need to go forward with a more positive mindset about the fresh start at school. And maybe work harder on my habit of not reading the news.

How are you feeling about going back to school?

The danger of civility

Who else was brought up to always be civil?

Politeness is a premium for a lot of people. That means that if you don’t agree, you find a way to navigate the conversation by agreeing to things you don’t agree with or by maybe making a tactful counterpoint. To make any argument you are expected to keep your voice calm, demonstrate control over your body and finish off conversations with polite enquiries. I heard myself thank her though I was I left angry by a call.

But what if there are many things in your life that make you angry, make you want to rage. I have been exploring these thoughts in my writing. Mainly it seems through pathetic fallacy where storms rage around a character as the anger bursts out. But when anger burst out in real life, I am not sure that it does feel like a massive storm.

Pain, the place from where your anger spurts forth, is interior. I studied the excellent The Body in Pain: The Making and Unmaking of the World by Elaine Scarry many years ago and I think about how it reduces the body to a mind without language. It is possible this is true for psychological pain as much as for a body harmed. Pain, anger, both of these things are all-absorbing. The world outside us swallowed up and if we truly give in to this pain, any wail comes from gut-deep. It bursts from inside, Alien-style, truly gut-wrenching anger is barely a metaphor for what happens inside.

Feeling out of control, at the mercy of outside forces, that is like the storm metaphor that comes up over again in my work. The world seems chaotic. No one can agree. The politics that I can’t bear to mention that seems to be ripping us apart in this country, well that should cause us pain. There are problems that are not being solved because we are so focused on Europe right now and we do have a right to be angry about that.

And isn’t that the real problem of learning civility at your mother’s knee? Born into people-pleaser people, let’s not make a fuss. Keep quiet about your anger or if you are seeing things going wrong: don’t make a scene. Does that ring true for anyone else? Because at times I wonder that we are not all more angry.

I write under the influence of my own anger. Right now, this week, I am trying to tackle the system. The one that is supposed to offer the right support for my son. And it makes me angry. Our needs, his needs being ignored are hard to stomach. Negotiating a complex system is hard enough but it comes with a side of this anger at a broken system. Because when people say the right thing but do not do the right thing, they are playing the civility game too. Built into our bureaucracy. When I deal with people, whether they are being helpful or not, I have to be polite. It is supposed to be collaborative you see.

And so when I write about anger I know I may never get down on paper how this feels. I hear instead the charge in my head of another’s more powerful words, “RAGE, RAGE, against the dying of the light…”

And then sit down politely at the meeting, smile, wish you good afternoon because we were all raised to be civil, weren’t we?