Every week, my son’s teacher, who is an organized woman as well as a living saint, leaves in his folder a small booklet that is intended to be his homework for the week. It is all of three pages, and it always has a theme, whether it be the weather or certain types of animals or upcoming holidays. To finish the whole thing with my help would take him perhaps five minutes.
However, I have a confession to make.
We don’t do them.
You are shocked, shocked, I know! I’m disappointed in me too. I also would expect me to be a more responsible mother, and because I don’t have him do these worksheets, he will be lucky if he can attend Ebay University, much less Harvard. How will he ever learn to function in the world if he does not practice the ability to find different fruits in a picture? I’m glad that I remain anonymous, for I fear a mob of angry Alpha Moms might try to come and run me out of town if they were to find out.
But deep down in my heart of hearts, I don’t think a five year old should be doing homework.
Kindergarten is already what first grade used to be, and sixth grade is practically high school. There will be time aplenty for homework.
I would rather have him outside, I would rather have him create art, I would rather we read together. In fact, I would rather have him do almost anything other than a worksheet. Because I think many children these days have more homework than they know how to finish in a given night, and in my own tiny, subversive way, I am rebelling against the useless worksheet trend.
And perhaps my rebel yell is really more of a recalcitrant whisper, but I still think it speaks volumes.
You might say that it speaks volumes about my stupidity, but I beg to differ.