Homework Lamentations

I hate homework. This is not a simple exasperation from a mom tired of sitting at the kitchen table. No, this is an enduring hate that began years ago. I do not remember much about the daily homework I had as a student (in and of itself an indictment for the hours wasted on it). I’m sure I hated it. Don’t all kids? I do recall some meaningful projects completed at home. I remember writing fifty poems out and putting them in a folder in fifth grade – all poems written with different magic markers and illustrated. While I now question the merit of such an assignment, I have to admit that I learned to love poetry spending all that time writing the poems. I also remember the card table I had in the corner of the living room while I spent an entire spring break working diligently on the seventh grade science report sbout nuclear incidents. I remember the essays I had to write for AP English – and how I seemed to park myself at the dining room table for days, pouring over the text to try to make it sound “smart.” I also remember the one writing project that made me really think – trying to explore whether Daniel Defoe developed his characters as a way to justify his own life choices. I also remember projects that were more a test of endurance for my parents than any measure of learning – the ocean diorama in fifth grade, the “art” project where my mom sewed felt on a Pringle can so I could make it into a dog.

My true disdain for homework began when I became a teacher. As a new teacher I was informed that I had to give homework. I didn’t see the point in asking my second graders to do work at home if I’d done my job in the classroom. And selfishly, I really didn’t want that much more to grade. I was taking home a folder for each of 20-24 students every night and grading page after page of spelling, math, writing, etc. Why would I want to add even more to grade? Nevertheless, I complied. And what is the best subject for elementary homework? Why, spelling of course. It’s not the best because students need that much reinforcement in spelling. It’s the best because it’s the easiest to assign. “Write your words three times each. Use them in a sentence. Write definitions for each.” Who didn’t have this as homework in elementary school? I’d be willing to bet most if not all of us had this kind of experience at one point or another. Sadly, I must admit that I administered the same tasks to my poor students in those early years. In part to save myself from a paperwork nightmare and in part because I began to realize the crazy lives of families, I soon told families that they had the week to do the assignments. They could turn it all in on Friday. If they chose to do it all in one day it would be fine.

After a year or two of the angst-inducing spelling homework, I finally decided that homework should be individualized. To do this, I developed contracts with each family. I reasoned that parents knew their children’s needs and their needs as families, so they could determine what would be reasonable and supportive for their children. I would be a resource. When my assistant principal saw a copy of the contact a student left in the hallway, I thought she was going to have a heart attack. It scared her. What would others think if they learned that MY parents could negotiate homework for their children?!

When I started teaching seventh grade language arts, I shifted my focus in homework. I tried to think of things that students would actually want to do – to see a genuine need to do. If they had homework in vocabulary, it was to support what we were doing in class and had natural benefits (as well as extra credit). At other times I’d offer extra credit for crazy assignments: “Turn your t.v. off for a minimum of fifteen minutes and talk as a family – eye contact while talking is a plus.” At other times I would give extra credit to students if they listened to “My Word” on NPR or if they taught their parents the kooky grammar songs I’d taught them in class. The administration never complained. The kids were learning.

Now, I’m on the true dark side of homework: the parent. I wince at the one-size-fits-all obligatory and mindless work my daughter is bringing home. My only consolation at this point is that she is in second grade, so the time we spend on it is minimal. As she gets older and the stakes get higher, I can only imagine my frustration. I resent the time the school will steal from our family – time that should be spent in meaningful ways and in warm conversations, fun time together, quiet moments, and actually learning.

I’m plotting for those days. I’m thinking that there has to be a way to demand that work my children are asked to do is reasonable and leads to growth. Perhaps there’s a way to develop a 504 plan for my girls that excludes all homework that is more concerned with the perception of rigor than actual support of learning. Perhaps I could argue in these plans that my children cannot be exposed to irrelevant and mind-numbing wastes of time. I could argue that in order to support their health and well-being, the school must ensure that their time at home be spent engaged in meaningful experiences with family. Now THAT would be a form of accountability – being held accountable that the well-being of children and their families are protected at night – that I could support.

Dear Grandview, Oh how I miss you!

Yet another year has passed without much attention to the blog. While not an excuse, we’ve moved yet again, and much of last year was spent either getting used to a new community or preparing to move on to yet another.

The hardest part of our move this year was leaving Bellevue and Grandview Elementary. We were so fortunate to be part of the Grandview community last year, and our girls could not have had better teachers. Both Mrs. Skirvin and Mrs. Grever were absolutely fantastic. Our girls grew so much in their classes. Yes, they learned a great deal and experienced “success” on all measures that the schools and state of Kentucky thought were important. More importantly, they grew in their love and excitement about learning. They became more comfortable with who they are, and they learned how to be part of something bigger than themselves.

Now we are in the early weeks of Public School #2. I have to confess that it is very hard to not compare this school with Grandview as much as I realize it is not fair to do so. Grandview is truly unique, and I cannot imagine many schools achieving what they have.

Nevertheless, we cannot help but compare the two schools to some degree – not as a matter of blame, but as a way to try to better understand the context in which we find ourselves. The first issue we’ve had to overcome is the loss of the community school. Everyone walked to Grandview and chatted along the way; they also walked into the school where Mrs. Simpkins, the principal, greeted them, and they were able to say good morning to the teachers. We underestimated the importance of this sense of community. We knew the kids and their parents (or grandparents). We were able to have simple “running jokes” with the teachers that may or may not directly relate to the kids. We were able to handle challenges because we celebrated the mundane together.

Now we are in a school that has combined communities. It is located on a hill (after all, we live in a mountainous area), so there is no feasible way to park and walk into the school. Everyone arrives at the school either by car or bus. I do not know the parents. I hardly know the teachers or the rest of the school staff. The school is a big (albeit new) box in which my children enter each day and upon which they exit at the end of the day. As newcomers to the area, we area struggling with trying to help the girls make friends. After all, we cannot strike up conversations with their parents as we come to school in the morning or while we stand outside at the end of the day like we did before. We send notes home with the other children in hopes that their parents will respond. In addition, we try to interpret policies for homework, school rules, and district policies. Where we may have just asked the teacher or principal in passing last year to clarify something, now we have to rely on assumptions or draft emails in hopes to get clarification from teachers or others

I realize this is common in schools. Most schools are not community schools. Even those that are (and while in Atlanta I was a substitute at a number of them in Decatur), most parents are kept at safe distance on the front lawn most days. I also realize that such connection inside the school could become distracting and keep the teachers from preparing for the day. After all, I was an elementary school teacher and administrator in the past. I realize how precious that early morning time is. Nevertheless, Grandview managed to create a welcoming space for families in the morning. Further, families rarely – if ever – abused the privilege of entering the building. In exchange for their creating this space, Mrs. Simpkins and the teachers created a vibrant community that clearly demonstrated that educating the children of Grandview was a community effort.

My challenge to our girls’ current school – and for all schools stuck on hills (literal or metaphorical) is to create spaces where you can be community schools. I truly believe much of what affects truancy, discipline, etc. (all factors in AYP) could be drastically improved in schools if parents felt more connected. Creating and sustaining shared and welcoming spaces for all the stakeholders in the children’s lives is not so radical. It would take so little in terms of time or other resources. The one dwindling resource most critical, however, would be imagining what is possible.