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Sonoma Family Life Magazine

Oversharing in a First Grade Zoom Class

By Jessica Guerrieri

I no longer read the news. I’ve actually been banned from it—a direct order from my therapist. I got into a bad habit of waking up, doom scrolling, and stopping to read about whatever tragic event transpired while I was sleeping. I’d feel my anxiety—along with an overwhelming sense of impending catastrophe—kick in. As it turns out, this is not a healthy way to begin the day, especially while caring for three small children.

Lately I let my daughters dictate the direction of our days, only nudging them (and myself!) back towards gratitude when we fall off course.

These mornings I’m barefoot in the kitchen sipping on cold coffee, throwing cereal towards my toddler, locating my five-year-old’s toothbrush, and calling out bribes to my seven-year-old in hopes that she’ll stay seated at the computer. In all the a.m. kerfuffle, I still get to hear the news, it just comes from a much purer source: a first grade Zoom meeting.

Teacher: Can someone share one thing in their house that’s blue? Suzy, I see you are holding something blue. Hit unmute and tell us what you found.

Suzy: No sound.

Teacher: Suzy, press unmute.

Suzy: Still no sound.

Teacher: Try again. We can’t hear you.

Suzy: Dad comes over to assist. My Dad told me not to share this because it’s private: My mom got out of the shower and wasn’t wearing clothes.

Teacher: You’re right, that is private. Tell me about the blue item in your hand.

Suzy: I take baths not showers.

Teacher: Last chance to tell us about your blue item.

Suzy: I usually don’t wear clothes, unless I take a bath with my brother, then I wear my bathing suit.

For 45 minutes, this is how the class continues: 15 six- and seven-year-olds gloriously, innocently oversharing. I marvel that their logic always follows a zigzag path, until eventually and inevitably they show the class their dog, or talk about losing a tooth or that one time they swam at a hotel pool.

As a former teacher myself, I’m not sure what I was expecting. The main perks of my old job were these pure nuggets of delight. I guess I thought my daughter’s class would talk about what every adult I know is talking about: the pandemic. But children would rather tell you about Grandpa farting in the car than complain about wearing a mask.
How unbelievably refreshing.

As parents, it’s our job to filter out the parts of our reality that are too toxic for our children. And, as my therapist helped me to understand, I have to do that for myself, too. Instead of scrolling through the news, I need to take a page out of Suzy’s playbook and go back to the simple joys of bath time.

We show them the tough parts they can handle. And they show us the very nature of resilience.

We carry the weight, even though it’s too heavy. They keep reminding us to laugh. 

Jessica Guerrieri is a freelance writer/blogger. She and her husband have three daughters. Find her at and follow her on Instagram