At first, I was looking forward to it.
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We'd heard the news about a big swell coming a few days earlier. Surfers all up the east coast were obsessively checking the bureau of meteorology site for updates. How big? What direction? And what will the wind be like?
The atmosphere was buzzing. Everyone was talking about it - people down at the local shops, social media, work colleagues.
So I prepared my boards, unsure which one would be needed. Fresh wax on each and the car was packed the night before in anticipation of an early start.
Pulling into the car park, you could sense it straight away - the usual spot had a different vibe that morning. Everyone was there, pumped but also a little uncertain.
We got ready while talking through how we hoped the session would play out, trying to keep a lid on ambitions and mask our private apprehensions with a calm exterior.
We paddle out so full of energy and anticipation, I'm not sure I took a full breath. But once we reached calmer waters over the back of where the waves were breaking, we sat up and began surveying the bumps coming though.
I managed to snag a few short rides on some of the smaller waves, just to get my legs working. Then a couple of big ones came through.
And so I paddled and dove, getting under the breakers as best I could, occasionally having to ditch the board and regroup on the other side. And then I paddled again, dove again, paddled, dove, again and again.
Finally getting through to some calm water ahead, I sat up and took some deep breaths. The sets had obliterating our pack, and I was now a fair way from my mates. I could still see them though, each fighting their own struggle against the swell and fatigue.
In these conditions, you realise that even when you're not the only one out there, you're on your own to some extent.
A bump was building on the horizon. I was right in its path. I turned and paddled.
I felt the ocean take over and propel me along. I popped up and the wave threw me flying down its face. I'd caught one! I was both stoked and relieved.
It was great to have insight into what my kids are learning and what they're struggling with, but it is somewhat embarrassing to not have known all this before. My 'best wave' was teaching one of my sons how to do long-division (once I'd remembered myself). No one else saw it happen. But for a moment, it felt good.
As I kicked out over the shoulder of the wave as it petered out, I turned to look for the faces of my mates, hoping that they'd seen what I'd done, certain that they would be impressed. But they'd seen none of it. They were all busy trying to navigate their own way through it all.
Soon after, I let my mates know I had to head off, trying to give the impression that I'd have loved to stay out there all day. But in truth, I was exhausted.
Back on the beach, I turned around to look out at the water. It didn't look as gnarly as it felt when I was out there, and I was suddenly conscious that anyone watching from land might've thought it was actually easy.
Standing in the car park, talking with my mates about what we'd all just experienced, what we'd just survived, was like debriefing after a trauma or an epic victory. It was only 9am, but we all felt like a beer!
Even on the drive home, I couldn't recall many waves that I'd caught. And I certainly wasn't confident that I'd actually ridden any the way I'd envisioned. But I was still buzzing just for having made it through at all.
Or at least ... this is how schooling from home felt to me.
All is calm now that the kids are back at school.
It was great to have insight into what my kids are learning and what they're struggling with, but it is somewhat embarrassing to not have known all this before.
My 'best wave' was teaching one of my sons how to do long-division (once I'd remembered myself). No one else saw it happen. But for a moment, it felt good.
Schooling from home didn't go how we'd thought it would. I had hoped to really teach them things. But largely it was simply an exercise in minimising distractions and regularly feeding them. It didn't play out as I'd envisaged, but we survived.
Thank you to the teachers and all school staff for the work you have done over recent months. It's great to have you back out in the water helping our kids navigate the swell, while the parents are back on dry land, ready with a warm towel.
Alex Hains is an Illawarra psychologist and a father of three.
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