Let me begin by saying that I have no problem with homeschooling. I have many friends who do it, most of them very well. But y’all. I cannot. I just can.not.
And why do I say this? Why can’t I homeschool? It’s entirely due to the daily horror that is homework.
I have always despised homework. Starting 3 years ago with Kindergarten readers (which we had to do twice, thanks to twins), I have taken a daily deep breath to steel myself against the onslaught of homework. It’s torture. It’s painful. It’s a daily test of my very last spiritual virtue (and full evidence of my utter lack thereof). And it’s not my kids. Oh no. I love them. They ask good questions. It’s the whole, crazy logistical circus that homework creates.
Let’s just use today as an example.
3:30 – Drive away from parent pickup with all 4 kids (go me!)
3:30-3:35 – Chat with my kids on the drive home. Listen to complaints about whose turn it is to play a screen. Discuss the day. Find out that Megan had a bad day because she forgot the paper she diligently completed last night and was holding in her hands this morning before we left for school. Assure her we will find it when we get home. Stop briefly for Alex to jump out and get the mail. Arrive at home.
3:40 – Give permissions for snacks. State that we will start homework. (Alex picks math because it’s due tomorrow. Erin starts with reading packet. Megan wants to start with reading, I require her to start with math because I cannot listen to her read while also helping the twins…see below.)
3:45 – Homework commences. Alex tells me he isn’t sure what to do with his math. We sit down at the table. Erin flops onto the couch. Megan sits on the floor by the big windows. (The next events happen in consecutive moments, but without my being able to watch the clock.)
- Alex and I read the instructions and work through the first problem (of 4 total questions). Erin calls.
- I leave Alex to do the problem and move to the couch.
- Erin doesn’t understand what to do on question 4. I try to explain. This takes a while.
- Alex asks me if his answer sounds right.
- Megan hands me her math paper to check.
- I ask Alex to wait for a minute, refuse to take Meg’s paper, and finish helping Erin.
- I take the math paper. I walk to the table to check what Alex has. He’s good. I set him to do the next problem. I sit down to read over Megan’s math.
- Megan did not follow the instructions. I hand her paper back. She goes back to the floor.
- Erin has another question. So does Alex. I cannot answer Alex’s question. (How AM I supposed to “explain” the fact that he rounded, then subtracted to get an answer of 2500 people? His work is right there…what’s to explain? And how can he possibly explain it on two lines?!?) We write a note to their teacher.
- I sit down at my computer to write a couple of emails regarding the Boy and Girl Scouts sell-a-thons currently going on and for which different teachers have graciously ordered from my kids. I try to disappear into Facebook for a minute. No such luck.
- Erin has another question. I go to the couch and try to explain how to write an answer describing the evidence she’s looking for in the text. She doesn’t understand. I try again. We still are barely communicating (apparently). Alex calls me back. I tell her to do her best and walk over to Alex.
- He is done with two more questions. One of them is wrong. We go over why. He finishes his math. I check them. He goes to start his reading packet. I’m pretty sure Timmy has been playing a video game this entire time.
4:30-4:50 – Erin tells me she is bored of her reading packet. It’s not due until Friday so I let her be done. She starts her math. She finishes her 4 problems and gets a promised turn on a screen. Alex comes out to say he’s going to stop working on his reading packet for tonight too. I’m good with that. He completes some of his extra math problems (Erin did hers the other night). I sit down on the couch to do Megan’s reading. Tim joins us while we read her official book, 1 chapter of her extra book, and her vocabulary words. Then he goes to watch Erin play the iPad. Eric comes home somewhere in here.
5:00 – I send everyone to DO something: play a game, go outside, play with pony figures, so I can now work on dinner.
In that 90 minutes, which we repeat daily to some extent (it is typically shorter–this week’s math and reading packets have proven unusually painful–but not less complicated), I have prayed for wisdom and kind words. I have bounced between my children, nearly flinching when another one calls my name. They have worked 90 minutes on school work after already completing an 8-hour day. We’re all tired. I cannot seem to effectively explain things to them (and I successfully taught college composition to freshman, y’all). And while I could leave it until after dinner, I cannot bear the thought of this kind of logistical ping-pong on top of baths and bedtime.
No, I cannot homeschool. The thought of being entirely in charge of my kids’ educations and on the hook for every explanation, question, assignment and assessment is just more than I can bear. It would require God Almighty using sky writing in purple sparkly smoke letters for me to even consider the idea of homeschooling. And even then, I’d be seriously hesitant.
And to all the teachers out there, who deal with this kind of distraction and attempt to explain to a child who is just not following you and faithfully do your job every single day…you are my heroes. My absolute heroes.
October 12, 2017
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