Back to school

Time again to watch my kids walk off to the bus, and come back some 8 hours later with my homework. The first week of school homework for mom. Forms, forms and more forms. Identical to the ones I did last year. And the year before. Fortunately, once you're done with the forms, you're done. Still, it takes a few hours, and I always end up thinking about our neighbors, who at last count had 13 kids, or maybe 15? I'm not sure even they know. But that is a LOT of forms. Only one of the kids has graduated from high school, and only one more is in high school. That makes 11? 13? less than 12 years old. To make it more confusing, all the kids names start with "C". Believe me, after 7 or so "C" names, I'd get a little desperate. I believe I would end up with one named "Cottage Cheese". And since "Cruise" would probably already be taken, #14 might be "Carnival" in hopes that "Cruise" would take over the care of his/her namesake. In any case, I cringe at the thought of all those forms!

Then, there is the other parental homework. Parent response journal? The kid writes a letter with a question and you write a reply.  Okay, that one is pretty fun, and I see some value, but I have balked and been rather uncooperative about some of my parental homework. I had one 7th grade teacher who wanted me to watch my child read for 30 minutes a night, then record what was read and sign off about it. That particular child reads approximately18 hours a week, and has been doing so since age 2. So, I just signed a note that said "Already accomplished for this year." Making the teacher unhappy. He declared to my child that it was sad her mother did not believe in education. Tee hee hee. So, when he emailed me about it, I did mention that  my child's parents had acquired 45 years of education and that we knew that higher education requires self motivation. He did not ask me to do any homework after that, but I still get the feeling that he was a bit disgruntled.

Then, there is the homework that is just plain busywork. UGH. My kids take homework seriously (well, one of them isn't convinced yet) and even the busy work has to be perfect. For this reason, I was woken for assistance on the second day of school at 5:56 am to unscramble words. My middle had worked hard, and figured out 13 of the 16 challenges, but was stumped by 3. I assured her that I didn't think this would be a graded assignment. It is busy work, I said. But, due to the distressed look on her face in the rising dawn, I rubbed my eyes and gave it a go. Completely unsuccessfully. FNSAAODCNO? No clue. Equally stumped by the other two. Something you get for school was the only hint. So, worried and unhappy, she went off to school with incomplete homework. When I collected her that afternoon from the school curb, her first words were "Guess what ? We didn't even hand in that unscramble, we just went over it together." Really. Just wanted to keep you busy, when athletic practice and dinner and chores and 60 animals and sleep isn't enough.

Then there is the homework that is perhaps worthwhile.

I went to turn the grass once after one
Who mowed it in the dew before the sun.
The dew was gone that made his blade so keen
Before I came to view the leveled scene.
I looked for him behind and isle of trees:
I listened for his whetstone on the breeze.
But he had gone his way, the grass all mown,
And I must be, as he had been, - alone,
"As all must be" I said within my hear,
"Whether they work together or apart."
But as I said it, swift here passed me by
On noiseless wing a 'wildered butterfly,
Seeking with memories grown dim o'er night
Some resting flower of yesterday's delight.
And once I marked his flight go round and round,
As where some flower lay withering on the ground.
And then he flew as far as eye could see,
And then on tremulous wing came back to me.
I thought of questions that have no reply,
And would have turned to toss the grass to dry;
But he turned first and led my eye to look
At a tall tuft of flowers beside a brook,
A leaping tongue of bloom the scythe had spared
Beside a reedy brook the scythe had bared.
I left my place to know them by their name,
Finding them the butterfly week when I came.
The mower in the dew had loved them thus,
By leaving them to flourish, not for us,
Nor yet to draw one thought of ours to him.
But from sheer morning gladness at the brim.
The butterfly and I had lit upon.
Nevertheless, a message from the dawn,
That made me hear the wakening birds around,
And hear his long scythe whispering to the ground,
And feel a spirit kindred to my own,
So that henceforth I worked no more alone;
But glad with him, I worked as with his aid,
And weary, sought at noon with him the shade,
And dreaming, as it were , held brotherly speech
With one whose thought I had not hoped to reach.
"Men work together," I told him from the heart,
"Whether they work together or apart."

Robert Frost.

Ah, memorize poetry. Me likey. That is homework worth doing, and now when I yield my scythe I have a poem to contemplate. Back to school, yes, never stop learning, indeed!