Midnight School by the Beach

It’s a typical weekday in Himara. The sky is sunny and the water is calm and clear. We walk across town to a gyros shop for lunch. I wash the gyros down with a cold beer and then wash the beer down with a makiato while the kids have some ice cream. Then it’s time for a swim. Tola gets some sun on the beach while the kids and I climb the rocky cliffs and jump into the schools of fish swarming in the turquoise waters below. It’s easy to lose track of time floating in the water and watching the waves roll in and out of the submerged caves.

And today we do lose track of time. I climb out of the water to my dry bag sitting on the sand and drip over everything as I pull my phone out. It’s 4:45 pm.

“Everyone out of the water!” I yell. Tola has joined the kids snorkeling, but now she comes running out with them. “School time!”

We rush home and, still wet, NG flips open her laptop and connects to her class via Google Classroom.

“Good morning, everyone!” her teacher announces. The school day has begun.

Neither of the kids has set foot in a physical classroom since school was suddenly canceled in March due to the pandemic. ND was a few months away from completing his first year of high school in Albuquerque when classes were replaced with a pitiful attempt at online learning. Neither the schools nor the teachers were prepared to suddenly transition to teaching online and the result was a mess. A few of the teachers tried to keep the kids engaged with online assignments and some held occasional chat sessions. Many teachers didn’t bother even trying. High school learning effectively came to a complete stop and grades were not even issued for the semester.

ND is now completing tenth grade via a dedicated online school in Albuquerque while in Albania. This works well for him as he can do his work at any time of day. Since Europe is eight hours ahead, he is usually a bit ahead of schedule.

NG began fourth grade in her Albuquerque elementary school from Durrës, Albania. Before we left for Europe, Albuquerque Public Schools announced that school would begin with a month of online learning and then move into a hybrid program in which students would attend school just a few days a month. This plan was quickly canceled as the pandemic worsened and this worked well for us as, almost two months into the school year, NG is still learning online with her class in New Mexico.

Class begins everyday at 9:00 am. This works out to 5:00 pm for us with the time difference. Rather than the day beginning with me shaking her awake and then hurrying her through breakfast, it begins with a late morning breakfast, maybe a walk into town for ice cream, some swimming in the sea in the afternoon, possibly a couple video games or some reading and then class with a bunch of sleepy kids that just got out of bed.

I would imagine most parents try to steer clear of the online learning. Nevertheless, it might be annoying for teachers to know that potentially there are many more people in the “classroom” listening in, most of all nosy parents who may be critical of what is being said or taught in the classroom.

NG usually insists that I leave and if someone must be in the room with her while she is in her classroom, then she tilts her screen away so that we are far from the view of the class.

Recently, I was walking by her room while she was in class and I heard her teacher talking to one of the students, saying “Alex, you’re just not very bright.” Feeling kind of shocked to hear a teacher talk to a student this way, I leaned over and listened in. She continued talking to Alex in a disapproving tone. “All the other students in class are brighter than you. Even Max. He’s not very bright, but bright enough.”

NG, her face fixed to the screen, didn’t notice me come in. “Hey,” I got her attention. “What’s going on? What is your teacher talking about?”

“Go away,” she said in the crabby voice that meant she didn’t want my face suddenly appearing to her class.

I was about to peek in anyway as I just had to see what was going on, but then I heard her teacher say, “that’s better. Keep a light on, otherwise you’re just too dark and we can’t see you.”

It’s late at night and I’m beginning to get sleepy. The sound of NG’s teacher talking to the class drifts into my room from her open door. I peek in. Her face, bathed in a blue glow, is the only thing visible in the dark room. “NG,” I tell her. “You’re not very bright, are you?” and I flip on her light.

“Shhh!” She shushes me loudly. I close the door and decide to go for a walk. The beach is dark, but the slowly rolling waves glow brightly in the moonlight. I look at my watch. It’s nearly midnight. The school day is coming to a close and it’s time for me to head home and go to sleep.