Holy Crap, Look at the Homework

I do wish you'd listen, Wymer, it's perfectly simple. If you're not getting your hair cut, you don't have to move your brother's clothes down to the lower peg, you simply collect his note before lunch after you've done your scripture prep when you've written your letter home before rest, move your own clothes on to the lower peg, greet the visitors, and report to Mr. Viney that you've had your chit signed.

    -Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life

Justin is six this year and repeating kindergarten. He’s a bright kid, but life and behavior got in the way of learning last year. For starters, it was a time of great anxiety for him. He was hovering in that strange, unsettling limbo-land between foster care and forever family, and for a full school year, he knew he was going to get the boot from his current home and "soon" would be moving into another. Of course, what he didn't know was "soon" is a relative term when you factor Clark County Family Services into the equation. They're not exactly endorsed by Speedy Gonzalez. Needless to say, with all the anxiety in the world crashing down on him 24/7, Justin's behavioral issues in the classroom abounded.

In other words, his first stab at kindergarten wasn’t emotionally-conducive to suckling up the milk of learning. He was too busy having 30-minute tantrums and whacking the crap out of the other kids in his class to give the old college teat a try. He was a boy displaced; just beginning to internalize his foster home was not forever, and as his therapist and public school teacher kept each other on speed dial, it was no easy task to get him to sit still and listen, much less worry about how many sight words he was ticking off the old clipboard.

Justuce is seven and repeating first grade. Like her brother, her emotional upheaval during the past year made learning low priority. Imagine and empathize. You’re seven, you’re in a home full of moms and sisters. You really like it. Your little brother is the only thorn in your side, but because of safety in numbers, you and the four other girls can team up and pleasantly, deliciously make his life a living hell. You are Alpha Wolf Numero Uno until along comes a case worker who says, sorry little lady, see that rug you’re standing on? Yank. Whoosh.

So, Justuce too, came to us in a state of academic disarray. When our kids were assessed at their new school back in June, a week after they came to live with us, they were rated low for their age. And even understanding “low” is a dangerous and largely unfair word to use for kids so young, there was no denying their past year in public school was a wash.

We were surprised to discover that neither could tell time, not even at the most rudimentary level. Big hand on the twelve, little hand on the two means two o’clock? Nope. Blank stares.

Neither could they identify the value of coins. I’m pleased to report they can now pick a quarter out of my hand, since that’s the big one that buys the most stuff. Turns out you learn quickly when there's a gumball machine on the horizon. Otherwise, in spite of our coaching, they’re still a bit fuzzy. Three months later, a handful of coins is still counted by numerical tally alone. Both kids will report they have “five moneys” instead of two dimes, a nickel and two pennies. Adding that all up to 27 cents is like asking for a miracle.

So off we go to a brand new school and a brand new year, and may we slowly undo some of last year’s limbo and catch up with the other kids.

Which brings me to the meat of the matter.

Holy crap, look at the homework.

I thought of titling this column simply “Homework,” but honestly, that didn't do it justice. It needs, by all means, the accompanying holy crap.

We’re talking six and seven here, and as much as I appreciate the old academic choo-choo being firmly back on the fast track, by the looks of what’s coming home in their backpacks at night, we’ve already declared a double major in math and English. The catch-up train's not only left the station, it appears we're looking at the last three water towers in the rear view mirror.

I don’t know about you guys, but when I was in kindergarten, we had three jobs a day:

·         Don’t fight with the other kids.

·         Lay on your mat until you’re tapped with the magic wand.

·         Don’t piss yourself.

Holy cow, not anymore.

To start with, our kids need nightly computer access to do their homework. That's a far cry from my day when Texas Instruments was just getting around to making the abacus obsolete.

So, unless we were willing to endanger our own computers and have them tied up for hours at a stretch (and that’s a big not), Adam and I found it equal parts ridiculous, cool and scary that we actually went out and bought our kids their own laptops to get it done. Granted, we’re talking the cheapest model Wal-Mart can buy, but still…laptops? In K through 1? What in the world are we thinking? Good Lord, when I was six, my electronics collection peaked at the Goodyear Blimp Lite Brite, and that was the pinnacle of affluence.

There’s a site called “Raz Kids,” with “Raz” standing for “reading from A to Z,” and Justuce and Justin are expected to log on nightly to listen, read and quiz themselves on books. Then there’s another online doozy called “IXL,” where apparently Stephen Hawking and Archimedes teamed up to make sure the first-graders have plenty of math practice to chew on.

There are 153 different math curriculum subcategories listed under “First Grade Skills” on IXL.

153!!

When I was in first grade, I vaguely remember 2+2=4 flash cards being all the rage, but apparently it’s a bigger world these days. My daughter’s lineup will soon including juicy, titillating tidbits like “relating planer and solid figures,” “comparing sides and vertices,” and “location in a three-by-three grid.” I shit you not. If you think I’m exaggerating for the sake of a funny blog, go look it up for yourself. IXL.com. First Grade index tab. They’ve also got symmetry, fractions and Venn diagrams if you’re feeling rusty.

Justin is spared the horror of IXL for one more year, but he also does “Raz Kids” just like his sister. Justuce logs on with "Birds456." Justin's so little he doesn’t even have a password. He has a pass-picture. He clicks on the little picture of the spoon and away he goes.

In addition to the websites, the kids also have regular old-fashioned paper homework that comes home with them every night in a two-pocket plastic folder labeled “Parent Teacher Communicator,” with said pockets subdivided into “Return to School” and “Keep at Home.” Oh, how I dread fishing that folder out of the backpack every night. It's like Hanukkah in reverse.

They try to trick you into thinking it's fun stuff coming home:

• Ollie Octopus Loses a Shoe
• All Numbers Aboard!
• Counting Bears

But really, if you read the fine print, you see they're really sneaking in things like:

• Pearson Education Algebra Concepts
• Houghton Mifflin Phonics Patterning

I don't exactly know what phonics patterning is, but I'm almost sure I wouldn't want to do it in a dark room on an empty stomach.

Additionally, Justuce is supposed to read out loud to us for 20 minutes a night to “encourage her love of reading.” Oh yeah. It’s a fairytale romance. We write down the books she reads, sign the list, and return it to school once a month. No chance J1 will be sittin' in a tree with her book list anytime soon, k-i-s-s-i-n-g. The dowry is safe.

Justin also has assigned reading. He’s assigned a book bag each week and has to read from it nightly. He enjoys this activity approximately as much as a strained bowel movement.

Dear First Grade Parents,

Your children got the first homework packets today. We’ll prepare and send a packet each week. Keep it at home until the work is complete. Return it in the back pocket of the blue plastic folders that are used for regular homework. Most families choose to do the work as assigned. Others find that some days are busy with sports or family commitments and choose to do some work earlier or later than assigned. That is fine. Keep in mind that it is due on Fridays, unless otherwise noted. Most children will complete the work in 20-30 minutes each day. If it is taking much longer, please let us know.

-          Mrs. Medof and Mrs. Zoller

20-30 minutes? Holy cow, Mrs. M and Mrs. Z. Not to throw off your bell curve, but we need 20-30 minutes just to get them in the house, out of their school clothes and sitting at the kitchen table. 35 if we add juice boxes and trail mix.

We know it sounds complicated, but it really isn’t! We’ll establish a homework routine and soon they’ll be sailing off working on their own. Please be in contact if you have concerns.

That is, of course, after you move your own clothes on to the lower peg, greet the visitors, and report to Mr. Viney that you've had your chit signed.

Can't wait until they add the macaroni diaramas. My first one'll be shaped like a Valium.