So that’s it. Our school year was unceremoniously cut short. And yet it wasn’t. This is definitely one for the record books. Like most things lately, I have mixed feelings about this.

First the negative. My kids have been having a great school year. A’s last year of middle school has been a dream for him. He has worked his tail off and really found his place. He is taking this loss exceptionally hard as he was the class president and very excited to help plan and orchestrate their eighth-grade dance and field trip. He was also the president of Junior Honor Society and was excited to serve as master of ceremonies for the induction ceremony. He’s also understandably concerned about having all his ducks in a row for his first year in the high school.

G’s first year of middle school has been interesting. While he’s definitely got a big shadow over him in his brother, he has definitely found his own path. Since he gets to come back as a seventh-grader next year, he’s basically just put the party on hold until then.

E was having a solid year for a change. She loves both of her teachers so much, and although she’s had her ups and downs, this was finally feeling like a calm, centered year for her. She’s definitely taking this unexpected departure the hardest.

But we’ve celebrated that this wasn’t her fifth-grade year, so she will have a little more continuity when she goes back to school in the fall.

It’s not ideal, but I am thankful that they are not seniors in high school or college and they’re not missing some really big milestones. My heart goes out to those seniors, but I assure you, your families and your communities love you, and value you, and will somehow make this loss up to you. It may not be the way you’d hoped for, or expected, but it will certainly be memorable, and you will have a unique perspective as you move forward through life.

As a person who has weathered more than one “this didn’t go as I expected,” life-changing moment, my only advice to you is to learn and grow from this experience, and don’t dwell on what could have been.

Now, for the positive. Spending this time with my children has been a gift I never knew I needed. There is the sentimental, squishy side of getting my almost grown children under my wings 24/7 again, a feeling which we haven’t had since well before preschool.

But then there is a practical side where they are learning that yes, there are two different-sized forks, and they should be sorted and put away in the cutlery drawer as such, and if you are careless and don’t do it, Mom might just poke you with one of them!

There have been many, many, many lessons learned in the last few weeks. From how to cook, how to clean, how to do laundry, how to get out of Mom’s way when she’s on a rampage, my kids are getting to be pretty good at navigating the unknown. Just last week, after almost six months of negotiating, we finally got the cable company to come to connect us to the cable. When you’re talking about running “miles” of cable, it’s a little easier to understand why this project has taken this long.

It turns out that a critical step had been missed, and we had two choices: dig a 310-foot-long trench 18 inches deep or wait until they could come back again with the right equipment at an unspecified date. Since we really needed the cable to get 100% functioning internet for the five of us to work, school and whatever else, we had to start digging.

Truly, I think the digging of the ditch will be the single episode that my kids remember 20 years from now, rather than the quarantine. The kids got quite the education in manual labor, working together and learning new four-letter words. Everyone celebrated the completion of the ditch project by taking their personal PC/tablet/wireless device and going into their own rooms and watching and listening to whatever they wanted to for a few hours.

The boys have taken some of this down time to start working on a whole bunch of Scout merit badges. It turns out that some of them have actually sparked some real interest from the boys. After an online photography class, G has been running around photographing the wildlife and the dog. A has taken an interest in helping plant both the garden and working on the landscaping around the house.

I keep reminding myself that not all lessons need to be or should be learned in school, and I keep focused on trying to make the best of a bad situation for everyone. So far, it seems to be working, and I’m continuing to be grateful that we have this time together, to learn and to grow in different ways, but it’s certainly not the same as school.

This whole thing has made me realize how much I count on our school community. As I’ve touched base with the kids’ teachers, I’ve learned new things about each one of them that I didn’t know before, and I’m reminded how much my kids really become their kids, too.

I’ve realized how much I appreciate the cafeteria workers, the bus drivers, the coaches, the school nurses and guidance counselors who all watch out for my kids and who have reached out to me to check on how the kids are doing. It’s also a good reminder that even though it is a little different right now, that community hasn’t disappeared. Seeing how much these people care and how hard they’ve worked to keep things as “normal” for our kids is truly overwhelming.

Back in my Sunday school days, I remember learning that the church is not just a building, and I feel like that sentiment applies now to our regular schools. It may look a little different, it may be a little different, but just because you take away the building, you don’t take away the heart and the soul and the bonds between the teachers, the school personnel, and our kids.

Our schools are a lot more than just the classrooms and the hallways. They are a vital part of our community that will continue to thrive no matter where the learning takes place.

Liz Pinkey is a contributing writer to the Times News. Her column appears weekly in our Saturday feature section.