No school, only free time. My child is falling behind.

It’s that day of quarantine where I have stopped counting. All I remember is that today is an even number. How do I know this? I have started taking vitamin pills on even-numbered days. And I didn’t have one yesterday. 

I may as well start scratching marks onto walls and crossing them out in groups of five. But I don’t have to. I have perfectly good, sophisticated digital markers. Only I don’t care. This is a privileged jail. I have food I don’t want to eat. Then at times, I eat too much. No alarm to disturb me, but I can’t sleep. Free time, but I’m busier than before. And I’m so overwhelmed that I am numb. What a strange time to be alive. 

It’s got to be the uncertainty that is getting to me. And I am supposed to be the person who loves change.

Remember – just a week ago – I’d embraced this imposition and culled out a survival plan for the family? Language learning, and life skills teaching. Well, the vernacular movies I had on my schedule haven’t happened for a while now… because suddenly, I am not mindful enough to drive them. Without my reminding, a game of Crossy Road becomes the thing to do. 

Then suddenly when I realise this, I find myself up there with the 100 other mothers saying – “They’re missing out. Oh my gosh. They’re falling behind.” 

Are they?

Then I argue with myself, “But it’s the summer vacation. This is the time when they chill out from year-long school work and relax a while.”

Relaxing is not learning. Is it?

Sigh.

Easily, very easily, I am temporarily distracted with Mr. Dad’s discovery of our latest chase – cleaning robots. He points me to one that will launch soon and is cost-effective. We both grab our phones and pore over the specs. “Zero percent interest too,” he underlines. Ms. Teen wonders aloud what that is. She’s quite interested in this new excitement. I don’t think she enjoys the ‘cleaning hour’ we’ve introduced anyway.

It’s just payment, no interest, I explain to her. She’s still puzzled. So I continue, “Say you want a phone worth 10,000 rupees but don’t have the money. They will give you the phone on a condition that you pay for it slowly. Say, 2,000 rupees every month for a year. Sound like a good deal? You get the phone right away. Would you like to take it?” I ask. She looks delirious with excitement. 

“How much will you pay in total?” I ask. She pauses, calculates and shakes her head. “Whoa! That’s paying 24,000 for a 10,000 phone!” 

She’s not taking my offer anymore. She now understands interest and the phone has stopped appealing to her.

I’m thrilled as she moves on to understanding percentages. She loves Math and is today doing things mentally. “I didn’t get it in school. But now I get it!” she says.

What was that I said about learning not happening?

I take back my words. And pop another Magnesium pill.