Day One: The hammer falls

The characters:

Mom, aka. the embodiment of all things evil (depending on the moment). The woman charged with finding ways to keep the three boys educated and off the crack (aka electronics).

The 16-year-old, A. Turns 16 tomorrow, starting Grade 11. Rare sightings before noon on non-school days. Motivation minimal. Pays lip service to the idea that school may be important to his future. Good at math. Hates writing.

The 13-year-old, B. Starting Grade 9. Motivation less than minimal. Thinks everything is STUPID. Especially having to do anything that is not fun (which is everything except video games, dubstep, and swimming).

The 12-year-old, C. Starting Grade 7, just turned 12. French Immersion. Good at math, hates writing. [C's edit: I do NOT hate writing. I just don't like "school writing."]

The plot:

An indefinite school strike. Folks are saying it could last into October (oh God!). The kids have already had 12 weeks of summer thanks the strike starting in June. Any longer, and they'll forget everything ever learned.

Day One:

Today was day one of the "no electronics until after 4" and "up by 10am." So C was up by 9, the other two required multiple attempts, culminating in an 11am symphony of pots and wooden spoons. Tomorrow, opera. B is lucky his voice is so low no one can hear what he's saying. I'm sure it wasn't very nice.

The plan was to head to the library, choose a book to read, update library cards. A announces that his jazz combo is arriving at noon for practice. As the drummer, all practices are at our place. I give him a pass. B announces, "This is stupid. We have lots of books. I'll just choose one here. But I'm NOT reading it if I have to write an essay!"  He heads back to bed to "read." More grumbling when I send him stomping back into the living room, "This is stupid." I sense a theme.

C wants to do a puzzle, "It's not electronic! Can you help me?" As I head to the basement, I hear B head out of the living room.

"Keep reading!" I shout.

"This is stupid," I hear as he stomps back to the couch.

As for the electronics ban, it's noon and A just walked in the kitchen with phone in hand, ear buds dangling. "Well, I mean, I'm eating, so it doesn't really count, right?"

B meanders in, "Can I have a latte? I'm SO tired."

C arrives, "Ooo. Can I have hot chocolate?"

B: "I'm hungry. I'm going to make some eggs. Do you want some? Do I need to heat up the pan with the oil?"

C: "The machine is overflowing!"

B: "Are the eggs supposed to look like that?"

Amidst the chaos, A slinks away, phone jammed in his pocket.

Now I hear drums. The jazz group has arrived. At least A is playing music.

I re-read an email from someone who has developed a Super Fun! homeschooling curriculum. Apparently, he has total buy-in from his kids. I picture them up at 7 to get an early start on the ride into town for the first activity: a scavenger hunt in Victoria. Big super fun dimply smiles on their eager faces. I put on my best Super Fun smile and suggest the Scavenger Hunt activity to my kids.

"Together?"
"Why? We've been all those places."
"My bike is broken. I keep telling you. It needs to be taken to the shop."
"It's broken because you trash it."
"Do not!"
"My bike is too small."
"You are NOT that tall."
"Shut UP! At least I'm not stupid."
 "No one is stupid. Or short. Just shorter."
"And stupider."
"No. Stop bugging your brother."

"Can we go for lunch while we're there?"
"Stop it. What? Lunch? No."
"Why do we have to go to Chinatown? We go there all the time."
"It's a scavenger hunt."
"Go to Chinatown and not eat lunch? That's stupid."
"It's not stupid. You follow these questions and write a paragraph about the history of something you find."
[SILENCE]
"Why do we have to write something? You are going to GRADE it?"
"Why do we have to take selfies in each location?"
"To prove you were there, loser. Otherwise we can split the list and do it in a third the time. Or just give it to C to do." 
"Hey!"
"It bothers me that you've already thought of that."
"Selfies are so hipster. And don't call me loser."
"You know what? Maybe we'll save this for another day. I'll look into tutors."

Honestly, this is a fraction of the conversation. At one point, it veered off into a discussion of caring for one's belongings. It may take a few days for the reality of this to sink in. And for my backbone to firm up.