Editing Hollis

Dear Diary,

Man - every time I write those words it feels like I might be the only person left who keeps one of these things anymore. Keeps in the traditional sense, that is. A Moleskin, a pen, and my thoughts. And how about those thoughts? Might actually be a scarier place than some of the VR worlds X spends all his time in these days. If he’s not got the VR headset on for some school trip or project, it’s for one of those video games he plays with his friends who, I have to be honest, I haven't actually seen in the flesh for months. This is not the grade 9 I remember. Poor kid, I worry his first girlfriend is going to be a hologram. I don’t know what he’d do if he was confronted with physical boobs! HA. He’d die if I said that to him. Mortified by the fact that his mom said boobs, yes, but also because the mere utterance of the word (by someone who’s pushing 50 and still has a pretty nice pair, mind you) wouldn’t pass his DEI do’s and don’ts list. And here I thought we’d reached peak woke 10 years ago.

The house has been feeling smaller and smaller these days. Y and I have been working from home full time since the last pandemic, and because they collapsed the five or six local high school catchments into one, X is home remote learning for most of his core courses, which are massive. I think he said his math class has 250 students. 250!! How can one teacher possibly teach that many fourteen year olds? AITA, X told me. Am I the asshole? I joked. He didn’t get the reference. Apparently, we’re not talking grad students here. No. Some suped up LLM is helping my son make sense of algebra. To be fair, I’ve never been much of a math whiz so maybe this one is better left to the robots. But, he did tell me the other day that he was frustrated that he wasn’t getting his questions answered clearly when he asked his AITA for help. I asked him to show me what he’d asked of his AITA:

“Tell me the perimeter of a garden.”

“I’m sorry, this is your math question? It’s not even a question. What are you trying to get at here?”

“We’re working on geometry and measurement and the question is asking us to plan out the best use of space for a community garden that must include three separate plots for vegetables, fruits, and wildflowers. How am I supposed to know how big a garden is? Half of the ones in this city are on condo roofs so I never even see them!”

Oh dear. 

I think I’ve failed my child here. On the math front, for sure. I read the question and - to be fair - probably couldn’t have helped him with the actual calculations. But I’m more concerned that he couldn’t piece together how to ask the question. I had to show him how to ask his AITA the question in a way that it would understand and provide him with some useful tips so he could get cracking on his homework. 

Prompt engineering. I taught my son prompt engineering. 

God I worry about this boy. 

I digitally signed a field trip permission form the other day. Shocking to see one in the parent portal, honestly, since most of his class “trips” the past few years have been from the comfort of home or his elementary school classrooms with the aid of VR, but this one is legit. They are getting on an actual yellow school bus, driving out of the city, and going camping overnight. It’s for an elective he’s taking called “Grounding: Building Core Leadership Skills Through Doing.” I laughed when he read me the course description:

“In a world dominated by remote learning, Grounding provides a unique opportunity for Grade 9 students to step away from screens and engage in hands-on experiences that develop essential leadership skills. Through a blend of collaborative projects, team-building exercises, and reflective discussions, students will explore concepts such as communication, problem-solving, and resilience. A highlight of the course is the overnight camping field trip, where students will put their skills into action by navigating challenges, fostering community, and building confidence in the great outdoors. Grounding equips students with the tools to lead with empathy, adaptability, and integrity—preparing them to thrive in both virtual and real-world settings.”

I mean, I love that he wanted to take the course, but the fact that this needs to be a course still blows my mind. I don’t think he’s going to have any issues on this trip. Y and I - maybe we’re luddites, I don’t know - really did our best to try and give him the 80s and 90s childhoods we had, for as long as we could, as best as we could. He can pitch a tent. He can bait a line. He knows how to start a campfire. Hell, the kid can even change a tire. But I feel like we were in the minority of parents when we taught him those things. His friends got phones, tablets, “devices” so young. What were we supposed to do then? We didn’t want him to be left out, or worse, left behind. When it became clear that he needed these things not only to keep up socially, but academically, we felt like we had no choice. But do I love it? No. I don’t. It’s all consuming. 

So this trip, this big camping adventure (no devices allowed!!) should be fun for X, and a real challenge for some of his buddies. Bless the teachers who are taking them. They’ve got to be close to retirement age. Maybe they’re souls of patience. Or maybe they’re just in it for a good final laugh before the pension cheques start rolling in. Because man, there are kids on this trip who likely haven’t been disconnected at any point in their lives that they can remember. “Hey Siri, light the campfire” isn’t going to get them very far, I’m afraid. Hopefully X steps up and shows them what he knows. Maybe an A+ in this class will offset what I’m starting to think is going to be an abysmal math grade…