Morning in the flat started with that dreaded hit the snooze button moment. Poppy, still halfasleep, could hear muffled voices drifting from the kitchen: mum quietly whistling as she filled the kettle, dad rummaging for his car keys. Outside the curtains, the daylight was still a shy blue; the winter gloom clung on longer than it ought, and the frost on the sill didnt melt until about eight. In the hallway, a pair of boots were halfsubmerged in a puddle yesterdays snow had turned the floor into a little indoor lake.
Poppy swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat very still. Her maths notebook lay open at the headboard, its pages filled with problems that had been giving her grief for two weeks now. She knew todays a test, the teacher would be stern, and Grandmother Martha would pester her later about every single formula.
Emily peeked into the bedroom.
Poppy dear, time to get up. Breakfast is getting cold.
The girl lingered, pulling her dressing gown over her head a little slower than usual. A flicker of worry crossed Emilys face Poppy had been complaining of headaches and exhaustion after school lately, but the habit of rushing never seemed to loosen its grip.
The kitchen smelled of porridge and fresh bakery bread. Grandmother Martha was already perched at the table.
Looking pale again? You shouldve gone to bed earlier instead of fiddling with that phone! Schools are stricter now; miss one day and youll never catch up!
Emily set a plate in front of her daughter and gave her shoulder a gentle pat.
James emerged from the bathroom, a glass of water in hand.
Did you pack everything? Dont forget the textbooks
Poppy gave a halfhearted nod. Her bag felt heavier than herself; thoughts of homework tangled with the looming dictation.
Later, after Poppy left for school with her dad, Emily lingered at the window. A faint handprint lingered on the glass; she watched her daughter disappear into the courtyard where a parade of kids in matching puffer jackets hurried past, speaking in brief bursts.
That day Poppy returned home earlier than expected the class was let out after the English literature Olympiad.
Grandma Martha met her with a question:
How was it? What did they set you?
Poppy shrugged.
Loads of stuff I dont get the new topic at all
Martha frowned.
Youll have to try harder! Without good grades you wont get anywhere these days!
From the next room, Emily could hear their conversation Poppys voice was low and muffled, as if someone had turned down the volume inside her.
In the evening the parents dined together at the kitchen table, a vase of apples giving off a crisp scent.
Im getting more worried about her look, she barely laughs at home any more, Emily whispered.
James shook his head.
Maybe its just a phase?
Hed noticed, too: Poppy had become withdrawn even from him. Books gathered dust for weeks, and the video games she used to love no longer sparked any joy.
The weekend only amplified the tension. Martha kept reminding everyone how important it was to master multiplication tables in advance, citing examples from the neighbourhood:
Look at young Emilys granddaughter shes top of the class! Shes racking up medals at every competition!
Poppy listened halfheartedly, sometimes thinking it would be easier to just agree to everything so she could get a break from the endless worksheets and quizzes.
Emily tried again to chat with James later that night.
Ive been reading about home schooling maybe we should give it a go?
He considered it seriously.
What if it makes things worse? How does it even work?
She showed him a few parent reviews: many families reported that after switching to homebased learning, the childs mood improved within a month, the pace became flexible, and the whole household atmosphere brightened.
In the days that followed the couple dug into the logistics of home schooling: required paperwork, final assessments, where to find a decent online academy. Emily phoned friends, read testimonials; James compared timetables and platforms. The more they learned, the clearer it became Poppys current school load was simply too much. She often fell asleep over her textbooks, missing dinner, and in the mornings complained of throbbing heads and dread of the next test.
One evening, as dusk fell early and mittens dried on the radiator, the family gathered around the table for the most heated discussion yet. Martha was adamant:
I dont see how learning at home works! The child will get lazy, make no friends, and wont get into anything later!
Emily replied calmly but firmly:
We care more about Poppys health. We see how hard it is for her. There are online schools now, teachers grade the work, and were always right there to help.
James added:
We dont want to wait until things get worse. Lets try it, at least for a while.
Martha sat silent for a long while, spoon clenched in her hand. She feared her granddaughter would lose interest, become a recluse. But when she saw Poppys eyes light up at the very mention of home learning, something in her shifted.
In early March the parents submitted a request to the local academy to switch to home schooling. The paperwork took less than a week just passports and birth certificates, exactly as the website instructed. Poppy stayed at home, plugging her laptop into the livingroom sofa for her first online lessons.
The first few days felt strange; she approached the screen with caution, but by weeks end she was confidently answering teachers questions, handing in assignments on time, even helping Mum with new topics. At lunch she chatted about a project on environmental science, teased Dad over a tricky maths problem. Martha watched from the doorway, halfsmiling, noticing how Poppy was becoming herself again.
Evening stretched lazily. Outside, the light March snow was melting off the lawns, and the few passersby hurried about their errands. Inside, a new calm settled not the tense silence of exhausted school days, but a soft, comforting hush. Poppy sat at the laptop, a literature task on the screen, a neat notebook beside her. She explained a new concept to Mum, her voice lively, eyes sparkling.
Martha slipped closer, pretending to glance at the table. She peered at the screen:
Can I have a look at your work? she asked after a pause.
Poppy turned the display toward her:
Here you go we have to pick a hero from the story and write a new ending
Grandma listened intently. In her eyes flickered something new curiosity mixed with a dash of bewilderment. She remembered her own school days: no computers, no online lessons Yet now her granddaughter seemed to manage it all with ease.
Dinner that night was a family affair. Mum served a salad with fresh spring onions from the balcony jars; the scent of new growth filled the flat. Dad recounted a work anecdote, and Poppy chimed in about her environment project she needed to build a model cell from recycled bits.
Martha, who had been quiet, finally asked:
How do you do the tests now? Who marks them?
Mum explained calmly:
All the final work is uploaded to the platform, teachers mark it and give feedback instantly. We see the grades right away.
Dad added:
What matters most isnt the numbers, but that Poppys calmer and actually enjoys learning again.
The next day Grandma Martha offered to help Poppy with a maths assignment. The girl welcomed the aid; the two of them bent over a workbook by the window, where a sliver of morning frost still clung. Martha fumbled a bit with the online lesson layout buttons instead of pages, teacher comments popping up on the side but when Poppy confidently walked her through a solution, Marthas face broke into a proud grin.
Gradually, the change became unmistakable. Poppy no longer jumped at the sound of the front door, nor ducked when school was mentioned. She started bringing out sketches and crafts for her new project, laughing at Dads jokes without forcing a smile.
Evenings turned into little study circles for the three of them, or simply a nostalgic flip through the family photo album. Martha even created a login for herself to peek at the online schools portal, just to see how it worked.
By midApril the days grew noticeably longer, the balcony sprouted its first tomato seedlings and lettuce for salads. The flat felt lighter, air fresher, and a sense of springful anticipation settled over the house.
One night, as the family lingered at the table a bit longer than usual, Martha turned to Emily:
I used to think a child without school wouldnt learn anything worthwhile but now I see that the key is that they feel good at home and want to learn on their own.
Emily smiled gratefully; James gave a short nod.
Poppy lifted her head from the laptop:
I want to start a big project! Maybe this summer we could visit a real lab?
Dad laughed:
Thats the spirit! Well plan it together!
No one rushed off to their rooms that evening; they talked about future trips and outdoor summer activities as the sun slipped behind the livingroom window.
Poppy was the first to turn in for bed, wishing everyone a good night in a voice free of anxiety or fatigue.
Spring was claiming its territory with confidence, and whatever changes lay ahead, the Clarke family now faced them together.
