Twinning is half the effort, double the support

I had heard that “when one child writes matric, we all write matric”. As a first-time matric parent of twins, I feared the worst. On reflection, our family’s experience has been far more about half the hassle than double trouble.

With this huge event in their lives being overtaken by larger circumstances, my pigeon pair faced a new set of challenges: online learning, online exams, staying home rather than seeing friends, and the loss of final-year milestones.

My parental challenge has been about finding balance. To feign indifference when you feel the need to kick butt, to stay calm when all around you is falling apart, to balance the urge to intervene with knowing when not to, and to talk about real things in the world while encouraging them to shut them out when going to their rooms to study.

I relinquished long-cherished ideals. My bookish hopes were dashed by their dismissing Wuthering Heights, an AP English set work, as the “most painful book we have ever read”. I was so anticipating seeing their choice of partners for the matric dance, to admiring the dress my daughter has been designing for three years, and to finally seeing my son in a suit. Instead, I encountered sometimes unkempt beings emerging from their rooms after a mushroom-like existence, looking for food.

I have learned new things. I now know that lying on the floor with closed eyes while in an online lesson is actually multitasking, that nagging isn’t that helpful except when it is, and that you don’t need to read set works to do well in English. I have also learned to accept with equanimity accusations of, “How could you let me/make me [depending on the day] take science/IT/Zulu?”

Having waited for 11.5 years for my son to start working, I was greatly relieved to see this happen sometime after the third prelim, by which time my normally studious daughter had almost had enough. We negotiated the Battle of Netflix, cell phone distractions, weekend-long power failures, and prepared for the next looming ordeal, the United States presidential election. On Wednesday morning, my politics-obsessed son informed me how nervous he was. I assumed it was the impending IT Theory and Hebrew exams.

They are lucky to have each other. Their largely similar subjects enable them to study together, to find companionship in the absence of seeing friends, to panic and calm each other down when needed. They have helped each other much more than we as parents ever could.

At the same time, their year has been bracketed by uncertainty, grief, and loss. In March, they faced the passing of a nursery school friend. Shortly before finals, a dear and lifelong family friend died, leaving us all distraught. In spite of this, they have faced the year with resilience, good humour, and an incredible ability to get on with what they need to. I feel privileged to have watched the emergence of their burgeoning adult selves under difficult circumstances.

I don’t know what their final marks will be, but I know they have completed their COVID-19-blighted matric year with distinction.

• Jocelyn Rome is a research consultant on enterprise development, the co-chair of Limmud Johannesburg, and a mother of three.