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During a back-to-school night at our local elementary
school, we visited our daughter’s fourth-grade classroom. There, along with our
daughter’s classmates’ parents, we learned from her teacher what she would be
doing in fourth grade that year.
The teacher started off her presentation by having us
participate in a game she did some mornings to get her pupils engaged in
learning about each other. The teacher would say a fact, and those to whom the
same fact applied, would stand up. She started with, “I have a child in fourth
grade,” and everyone stood up and replied, “Just like me.”
She gave a few more statements before she said, “I help my
child with homework,” to which every single parent stood up—except for us. Of
course, all eyes swiveled around to see who the miscreants were who
didn’t—gasp!—help their child with homework. It was a moment of clarity that
showed just how we as parents have bought into the notion that helping our
children with homework was a necessary part of their schooling experience.
He rightly points out that one underlying problem has
infused all school-related troubles with an extra coating of confusion: “The
average, middle-class American mom takes pretty much for granted that if her
child fails to measure up to one standard or another—whether behavioral,
social, or academic—that shortcoming is in some way indicative of a failing or
inadequacy on her part” (emphasis
his). Rosemond doesn’t belabor this point, one he’s made in other, more general
parenting books, but it does bear repeating in this guidebook on school troubles,
given that many times, our actions as parents compound the problem our children
are having with schoolwork.
His chapter on homework is especially worth the price of the
book, as he strips away the veneer of why we think homework is important (grades!)
to reveal what he deems the Seven Hidden Values of Homework: Responsibility,
autonomy, perseverance, time management, initiative, self-reliance and
resourcefulness. Who know a simple math worksheet could accomplish so much?
The key to uncovering these values—and allowing our children
to reap the full benefits of those values—is to empower our children to do
their homework entirely on their own, with minimal (read: hardly any)
assistance from parents.
Lest you think the book is all about homework, it isn’t.
Rosemond tackles other school troubles, including how to correct school
performance and classroom behaviors and why retention can be a good thing. Also
helpful is the question-and-answer sections in each chapter that provide
real-life examples and solutions.
Overall, this is a welcome update to his earlier Ending the Homework Hassle. However, I would
caution that this isn’t for the faint of heart. If you’re serious about helping
your child recover his own responsibility in the area of school, then Rosemond’s
suggestions will provide a blueprint for accomplishing that. If you’re not,
then you might be more alarmed than comforted by the no-nonsense and practical
advice contained within these pages.
Personally, I hope more parents would find the courage to
follow Rosemond’s advice and give the school work back to the child. After all,
full ownership of a thing—be it homework or behavior—is the best way that a
child learns to be resilient, self-confident and resourceful.
Q: What do we do when
our child refuses to be reconciled with you? In adult-to-adult relationships,
each adult has the same responsibility to initiate reconciliation when conflict
arises. But how does this apply to the parent-child relationship? For example,
my teenage son has cursed at me, been outright rebellious, and has threatened
to leave the house. Should the parent in such a situation take the initiative
toward reconciliation, such as telling him I still love him despite his
over-the-top misbehavior? Or do we wait for the child to humble himself and
come to us?
A: This is a question as old as time itself. How do we as
parents deal with a child who clearly has no desire to repair a relationship to
which he has taken a sledge hammer?
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Let’s remember that the parent-child relationship is fraught
with mistakes and outright messiness. The parent makes mistakes, the child
makes mistakes. Emotions get out of control and things can slide downhill fast.
That said, we should try to model forgiveness and love as
much as we can. That means, yes, we tell our children that we love them no
matter what they do--because we do and we should. However, that doesn’t mean we
don’t get annoyed, hurt, angered, or saddened by their behavior and choices,
but it does mean that we love them as unconditionally as we can in our imperfect
human state.
In your example, you should take the initiative for two
reasons. One because you’re the adult and he’s the child (even as he nears
adulthood), and two, because you’re his father. This isn’t to say you condone
the behavior, but we have to be the ones to hold out the olive branch of
forgiveness in order to make it easier for our children to ask for it. We
should be the ones who try to heal the breach first because we need to show our
children how to do that.
Most of the time, children of all ages find it difficult to
be the one to take the first step toward righting a wrong. It’s not easily to
be humble and apologetic in the best of circumstances. Throw in a fight with a
parent, and that step could morph into an insurmountable mountain for a child
to climb.
Of course, we pray that our children will see the wrongness
of their actions, but in the end, it’s not up to us to convict their hearts—that’s
the province of God--so we tell them we love them, we levy appropriate
consequences when necessary, and we make the way back “home” not steep or
rocky, but paved with love and forgiveness.
Do we allow children time to find the magic in their
surroundings or are we too impatient to move on to the next thing?
I hurried my kids along, tugging on their hands and urging
them to keep up. We had a lot of road to travel and not enough daylight to do
it in. No matter that the youngest two (both boys) wanted to stop to see the
construction vehicles moving dirt at a worksite. No matter that the two oldest
(both girls) wanted to gaze at a new flower bursting out of a sidewalk crack. We
had things to do, places to go, people to see, and it all had to be done right
this very minute.
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The sad part is the above scenario wasn’t uncommon in my
life. Like many of us, I packed as much into one day as possible, leaving
little wiggle room for stopping to smell the roses or see the first robin of
spring.
I took little comfort in the fact that I wasn’t alone. Many
of us have bought into the notion that to be idle is to be unproductive. We
can’t stand to have a “free” moment, so we over-pack our schedules and we
stress ourselves to the max by constantly doing, doing, doing. Busyness has
become a status symbol. Always rushing around from one task to another.
Constantly busy. On the job 24/7. As Americans, we’re busier than ever, filling
our lives with constant motion and tasks to be accomplished.
We don’t just do that for ourselves—we do that for our
children too. Then everyone ends up all feeling so overwhelmed by our lengthy
and never-ending to-do lists. We’ve fallen into the trap of over-scheduling,
over-doing and over-committing our time and resources.
And in the midst of our extreme busyness, we forget that to
be constantly busy means more than having no free time. It also means we pass
through life as if on a fast train, everything outside of our small world a
blur without form.
When we suck our children into our busyness, we do more than
slash their playtime. We also severely limit their imaginations. In short,
being overly busy with little downtime squelches the wonder.
The wonder to take a few minutes to watch the worm wiggle
across the sidewalk. The wonder to watch the giant excavator scoop up a load of
dirt and drop it into a dump truck. The wonder to gaze at the puffy clouds and
see a unicorn or dragon. The wonder to lay back on the warm grass and trace the
contrail streams left by airplanes high in the sky. The wonder to let a mind
drift into that magical realm of what-if
that allows children—and adults—to dream the dreams that sometimes change the world.
I’m thankful I realized sooner rather than later that my
hurrying to the next thing wasn’t always in the best interest of myself or my
children. Now, while some weeks are more packed than others, I deliberately try
to work in extra time on a regular basis so that when opportunities arise that
demand a moment of exploration or investigation, we can take that time. My kids
won’t always want to examine a tree’s peeling bark or gaze at an interesting
display in a store window, so while they still do, I will try to help them take
advantage of the situation.
Until next time,
Sarah
Q: We introduced our three-year-old
daughter to television at an early age. We put limits on viewing time—currently,
30 minutes to an hour per day of something educational. However, she loves,
loves, loves TV and prefers watching it to anything else. Is this okay? Should
we wean her off of it, and if so, how?
A: Of course she loves it! What's better than doing nothing
and being “entertained” by flashing lights and quick-changing scenes? I would
pull the plug entirely right now, no exceptions, for at least six months. There
are so many other things she could be doing that is more beneficial to her
growing brain than staring at a screen, no matter how educational the
programming.
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But she will complain, and whine and beg and plead and throw
temper tantrums when you do (I’m sure this has already happened when you limit
her exposure). This will pass in a few days if you stick with it--and DON’T
replace TV screen time with electronic screen time of another sort (such as
computers, tablets, smartphones, etc.). Kick the entire screen habit cold
turkey with her.
Just simply tell her no TV and provide alternatives, such as
building blocks and cars and trucks, trains and tracks, stuffed animals, etc.
Any toy that doesn’t make it’s own noise is key--you want your daughter to
provide the “entertainment” value for the toys, not the other way around. You
will probably have to teach her how to play and expect a short attention span
to begin with--but with calm purpose, you can help her recover her natural
ability to entertain herself without electronics.
To give her a push in jumpstarting her imagination, build a
town for her dolls out of building blocks, talking about what you’re doing, as
in “Let’s make it big enough for Dolly to live in. Do you think she needs space
to take a rest?” Let her guide the play and redirect the building. After about
five minutes or so, she should be more engaged and then you can just sit there
and let her do the playing. With stuffed animals, you can start a conversation
between the owl and the lion about what to do that day. Ask your daughter what
you think they should do, then do different voices for the animals. She'll
probably start making sounds or voices herself with those or other animals.
In all activities, start the play, but then step aside and
become a passive observer as your daughter takes over. As the hold TV/screens
has had on her lessens, her brain will start to fire up on its own with
imaginative play.
For more on how screen time, even “educational” programs,
games, etc., re-wire children's brains, check out The Shallows by Nicholas Carr or The Big Disconnect by Teresa Barker and Catherine Steiner-Adair.
Like it (parents) or not (students), homework has become an
ingrained part of the school landscape. At its very basic level, homework
reinforces what students are learning in class and gives teachers a quick check
to see if their pupils understand the material.
While homework has been around since the introduction of
public schooling in America, the homework of the early 20th century looks much
different from the homework of the 21st century—and I’m not talking about the
actual worksheets and problems, although that has undergone a metamorphosis of
sorts as well.
What has changed is the fundamental understanding of
homework. It used to be understood by all—teachers, parents, pupils—that
homework was the sole responsibility and domain of students to whom it was
assigned. Nowadays, homework involves not only the student but his parents as
well—all with the full support and encouragement
of teachers.
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For one of many examples I could cite from our children’s
teachers at the local public elementary school (and let me state that we think
the teachers are doing a bang-up job teaching our kids overall), take a look at
this recent note from my second grader’s teacher:
“Some students are still not writing down the books they
read at home or having a parent sign their planner. This is part of their
homework, so please help your child remember to do this every night.”
Now read it again and see if you can catch the irony in that
simple request from teacher to parents. Here’s the words and phrases that
jumped out at me: their homework,
that is, the students’ work. Then, please
help your child remember, that is, the parents
need to help their child remember the
child’s homework.
Let’s return to the matter of whose homework is it: The
child’s, of course. So why does the teacher
request that the parents get involved
with helping the student do his own homework? If the child is
supposed to be learning to be responsible for his own homework—which is the
goal of this entire planner thing, in which the kids write down their homework
each day—then how is a parent reminding the child going to help the child learn
that responsibility?
The short answer is that it’s not. And the more we as
parents “help” our children “remember” their own homework, the more our
children will “forget” to do the work (or even how to do the work). I guarantee
that every parent who reminds their second grader to write down the book they
read and to bring the planner to a parent for a signature will still be
reminding that same child until the end of the school year. That kind of “help”
is not going to make our kids progress to the point where they don’t need our
assistance.
In other words, if we don’t put the onus of remembering
homework in the first place and if we don’t allow our children to turn in
incomplete work or imperfect work, we are essentially creating an dependence on
others for work that by its very definition should be completed, alone, by the
child. If the child really doesn’t understand the material, then the teacher
needs to know that. If the child can’t “remember” to have a planner signed by a
parent, then the teacher needs to know that too—and grade accordingly.
Our second grader has a rather spotty record on the planner
signing and book title writing down in planner. We knew that teacher’s note was
talking about our second grader (and probably others in the class as well).
However, we simply said only, “Your teacher said you are not writing down the
book titles and having us sign your planner.” That’s it. We didn’t remind the
second grader every day to do this. We didn’t hound the second grader to get
this down. We put the responsibility firmly in his hands and let him sink or
swim on his own. He has improved his performance in this area, which wouldn’t
have been the case had we gotten involved and started shouldering the
responsibility for his planner.
How do you handle homework—and is that way working for you
and your kids?
Until next time,
Sarah
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