Teachers are my heroes. They work for comparatively little salary for the amount of time, effort and dedication they show to their classes. They are hugged, kissed, loved and (in Boo’s case the other day) thrown up on by their students. They handle almost every situation with grace and some bleach.
However after four years of being involved in the education process I have come to a conclusion about teachers and homework.
It isn’t homework at all but revenge. Revenge, I tell you, for having to deal with our
terrors little darlings all day. Like, Boo
throwing up on them or Abby debating with her teacher that she really doesn’t
have time for homework because she has riding lessons tonight.
After all, unless you home school (and then you are my hero) most of us send our children to school. Yes we say we need to work or it is for socialization or insert your excuse here. But the reality is that
most of us I would be completely inept at educating
my own children. Thankfully some brilliant mind invented the public school
system. But then the teachers got smart. If we were going to send our
delinquents into to their classroom they were going to send home “presents” to
Case point number one: the Every Day Math program. Whatever genius invented this “new” math for our children must have been really ticked off at either their students or their parents. There really isn’t any other valid understanding that you do this:
Instead of the way that has worked for my 40+ years:
But once you believe that the teacher’s appetite for revenge has been satisfied the next vestige of torture is delivered in the form of “special” projects. And by special I don’t mean a bracelet from Tiffany’s or an adaptive program for Boo. In previous years Abby did her special projects in class and we only had to go view them. But no, these 4th grade projects require the parent (aka MOM) to do some type of DIY project at home. Then this parent must help their
spawn child to write a paper describing
their process, their idea and whatever else is in the rubric.
My friend’s children had to make an earthquake house. I chuckled and asked don’t you know we live in New England? Unless your child was going to be an architect and you were preparing them for scholarship time this just seemed like a diorama gone mean. Then I got Abby’s notification and wished we had a diorama.
My child’s class must have really ticked off their 4th grade teachers. We have to make a simple machine. Hello, I can barely put gas in my car! You want
me Abby to make a machine? With levers and inclined planes or a pulley (when
I first read the types of tools you could use I thought airplane not incline).
I don’t trust the kid with a knife and you want me to give her a screw and a
lever and say, “make it so”?
My daughter who loves to craft is thinking bedazzle, balloon and magnets. Then she saw the paper and said an incline plane seemed cool (I think she read “air” plane too). Abby did not appreciate my idea that SHE should invent a way to change Boo’s diaper so I don’t have to. Her ideas range from making a car, to using the balloon to deliver an object to I don’t honestly know what the heck she was trying to describe to me.
All I know is that the teacher, whom we adore, won this round.