Monday, 5March
The morning in our flat began with the familiar struggle to get out of bed. Even before opening my eyes, I could hear the soft murmur from the kitchen: Claire quietly filling the kettle, James searching for his house keys. Outside the curtains, the grey dawn lingered longer than usual, and the frost on the windowsill didnt melt until about eight. In the hallway a pair of boots sat in a shallow puddle the snow from last night had slipped straight onto the floor.
Emily swung her legs off the mattress and lingered on the edge of the bed, staring at the open notebook at the foot of the bed. The maths exercises had been a nightmare for two weeks now. She knew today was another test; the teacher would be strict, and later that evening Grandma Martha would go over every formula again.
Claire poked her head into the room.
Emily, love, its time to get up. Breakfast is getting cold.
The girl moved slowly, pulling on her dressing gown. A flash of worry crossed Claires face Emily had been complaining of headaches and fatigue after school lately, yet the habit of rushing never seemed to loosen.
The kitchen smelled of porridge and fresh bread. Grandma Martha was already seated at the table.
Looking pale again? You should be in bed earlier and put the phone down! Schools are tighter now miss a day and youll never catch up, she scolded, her voice sharp but tinged with concern.
Claire placed a plate in front of Emily and gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder. James emerged from the bathroom with a glass of water.
Did you pack everything? Dont forget your textbooks, he reminded.
Emily nodded absently. Her bag felt heavier than herself, her mind a tangle of homework and the upcoming dictation.
Later, after James walked Emily to school, Claire lingered by the window. A faint handprint lingered on the glass; she watched her daughter disappear into a courtyard where a cluster of children in matching puff jackets hurried past each other, speaking in brief bursts.
The day was unusually short for Emily, who was released early after the regional English language competition. Grandma Martha met her at the door.
How was the day? What did they set you? she asked.
Emily shrugged.
Loads of stuff I dont get the new topic at all
Grandma frowned.
Youve got to push yourself! These days good grades are everything, she said, her tone firm.
From the next room Claire could hear the faint, muted tone of Emilys voice, as if someone had turned the volume down inside her.
That evening we sat together at the kitchen table, a bowl of apples in a vase giving off a crisp scent.
Im getting more worried about her, Claire whispered. Look, she barely laughs at home any more.
James shook his head.
Maybe its just a phase? he suggested, though he too noticed Emilys growing quiet. The books on the shelf had been untouched for weeks, and the games she used to love no longer sparked joy.
The weekend only heightened the tension. Grandma kept reminding us to drill the multiplication tables ahead of schedule, citing stories of other families.
Look at Nats granddaughter top of the class, winning every competition, she bragged.
Emily listened halfheartedly, sometimes feeling that agreeing to everything just to be left alone for an hour or two without quizzes might be easier.
Later that night Claire turned to me.
Ive been reading about home schooling. What if we tried it? she asked.
I hesitated.
What if it makes things worse? How does it even work? I replied.
She showed me several parent reviews. Many described a dramatic improvement within a month or two after switching to home schooling a more relaxed pace, a better atmosphere at home, and kids actually looking forward to learning.
In the following days we started researching the logistics: the paperwork needed, the final assessments, where to find a reputable online school. Claire phoned acquaintances, read testimonials; I examined timetables and platforms. The more we learned, the clearer it became that the current school workload was simply too heavy for Emily. She frequently fell asleep over her textbooks, missed dinner, and woke each morning with a pounding headache and dread of another test.
One bleak evening, as darkness fell early and mittens dried on the radiator, the conversation at the family table turned sharp. Grandma Martha was adamant.
I dont see how learning at home can work. Shell get lazy, have no friends, and wont get into anything later, she declared.
Claire replied calmly but firmly.
Our priority is Emilys health. We see how hard it is for her. Online schools have teachers grading work, and well be there to support her every step.
James added.
We cant wait for things to get worse. Lets give it a try, even if just for a while.
Grandma fell silent, clutching her spoon, fearing Emily would shut herself off completely. Yet when she watched Emily light up at the very idea of home schooling, something shifted.
At the start of March we submitted an application to the school to move Emily to home schooling. The paperwork took less than a week just passports and birth certificates, as the website instructed. Emily stayed at home and logged into her lessons on a laptop in the living room.
The first few days were awkward. She approached the lessons cautiously, but by the end of the week she was answering teachers questions confidently, submitting assignments on time, and even helping me with a new gardening project. At lunch she recounted a project on the local environment, laughed, and debated maths problems with James. Grandma Martha observed from the doorway, surprised to see her granddaughter start to resemble her old self again.
Evenings stretched lazily. Outside, the March snow was melting off the lawns, and only a few pedestrians hurried by. Inside, a new kind of quiet settled not the strained silence of stressful school days, but a soft, comforting hush. Emily sat at the laptop, a literature task on the screen, a tidy notebook beside her. She explained a new concept to me, her voice animated, eyes bright.
Grandma slipped closer, pretending to tidy the table, then asked.
Can I see your assignments?
Emily turned the screen toward her.
Here we have to pick a character from a short story and imagine how the tale continues
Grandma watched, curiosity mixed with bewilderment. She remembered her own school days without computers or online lessons. Yet now Emily seemed to handle it with ease.
Dinner that night was a family affair. Claire brought a salad of fresh spring lettuce from the balcony garden; the scent of new growth filled the room. James chatted about work, Emily added comments about her environmental project she needed to build a model ecosystem from spare materials.
Grandma, after listening quietly, finally asked.
How do you turn in tests now? Who checks them?
Claire answered without hesitation.
All the final work is uploaded to the platform; teachers mark it and we see the feedback instantly.
James added.
What matters most is that Emily is calmer and actually enjoys learning again.
The next morning Grandma offered to help Emily with a maths problem. Together they bent over the workbook by the window, where a thin line of frost still clung. The online lessons layout buttons instead of pages, teacher comments appearing on the side felt foreign, but when Emily explained the solution, Grandma smiled approvingly.
Look at you! Figured it out yourself! she exclaimed.
Emily beamed.
Gradually, the changes in the house became unmistakable. Emily no longer startled at the frontdoor click, nor hid her eyes when school was mentioned. She began bringing out drawings and crafts for new projects, laughing at Jamess jokes without forcing a smile.
Now the three of us often discuss school topics after dinner, or simply flip through old family photo albums. Grandma even set up a login to peek at Emilys online school portal, just to see how things work.
By midApril the days grew longer, sunlight lingered over the roofs, and the balcony sprouted the first shoots of tomatoes and herbs. The flat felt lighter, filled with the fresh breath of spring and the promise of something new.
One evening Grandma lingered at the table a little longer than the rest. She looked at Claire across the spread.
I used to think a child learns nothing without a traditional school, she said slowly. Now I see its more about being well at home and wanting to learn.
Claire smiled gratefully; James gave a brief nod.
Emily lifted her head from the laptop.
Id love to start a big project! Maybe this summer we could visit a real science lab? she suggested.
James laughed.
Thats a brilliant idea! Well plan it together.
No one rushed off to their rooms that night; we lingered, talking about future trips and summer activities as the sun slipped behind the livingroom window.
Emily was the first to retire, wishing everyone a good night in a calm voice, free of the usual anxiety.
Spring has settled in confidently. New changes lie ahead, but now the whole family faces them together.
*Lesson learned: rigid expectations wont help a child in distress; listening, flexibility, and a willingness to adapt can turn pressure into progress.*
