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About 100 parents crowded into an elementary school library. It fosters no insights, spawns no epiphanies, adorns no refrigerators. The life-destroying homework I’m talking about is of the preprinted, fill-in-the-blank, rote regurgitation variety.
That way, you’ll know how to act when you’re my age and miserable. Here’s a short list of what my daughter and I have done after school instead of doing homework. We’ve visited the natural history museum to stare at the skull of a triceratops. We’ve dropped in at the bakery, meandered around islands, and taken the car in for service.
(Not everything has been fun for her.) I’ve shuttled her around to cello lessons and swim lessons and soccer games.
The kids are held to high standards, and they follow a strict schedule.
But when they’re outside the classroom — at recess, at home — that’s the time for play.
Our parents could also have a goodnight sleep without having to worry about us failing their classes because of homework.
Teachers will also gain out of no homework because they don’t have to deal with grading messy handwriting and awful grammar.
Homework causes kid’s and teen’s frustration, tiredness, little time for other activities and possibly even a loss of interest in their education.
It also keeps everyone up; it has kids and teens staying up until they finish it, the parents trying to help them and the teachers grading it.
Isn’t this the time of life to follow a will o’ the wisp fleeting interest into robotics or chess or gardening or theater? Constant high-stakes, graded homework germinates in the young mind the idea that any mistake will cost you. And sure, I’m not a brain surgeon, but I’m also not a dummy. They want a paper trail of gold stars and smiley faces to prove that little Brayydynn is way, way smarter than that toad Braideyn down the street.
Sure, most of what any kid my daughter’s age gets interested in won’t turn out to be a career or a lifelong passion, but that’s the point. For years after college, I had nightmares about overdue papers, midterms I’d forgotten about. After school, I rode my bike around the neighborhood and splashed through creeks looking for crawfish. They’ve taken the perfectly understandable desire to measure the effectiveness of a teacher or a school or a district and trickled that down to the kids in class. What if she lived in a single-parent household, or a foster home?