I (bloody) hate homework. Am I even allowed to say aloud something so anti-establishment, let alone type on a screen? Apologies if I’ve offended, but it’s the bane of my afternoons and, quite frankly, absolutely shouldn’t be. Sometimes I wonder what I would rather do – eat dirt? hand wash a jumper? or peel vegetables? And they ALL win – hands down. Because homework is evil and boring and not the way I want to spend the end of the day with my tired children.
Tonight’s evilness was a perfect example. Our homework hour was spent doing a Science reading comprehension about sources of hydration, a French word search and some tricky Maths problems. A couple of doors were slammed and pencils thrown and, only once we’d all had a big bowl of spag bol, had the tension subsided.
I remember once, at those infamous school gates, hearing talk of that school which doesn’t give their pupils any homework. Only lightly requested to read a book and relax once home from school, this genius institution immediately shone the light in my eyes. How very innovative, utterly forward thinking, I thought to myself.
Of course, real people in the real world do work after office hours but these underage minors have all that to look forward to and should really be allowed to play a game, discuss the trials and tribulations of their day and read ‘that book’.
Oh well… maybe… one day. Until then, we’d better run through those ludicrous spelling words.
This column first appeared in The Lady where I am their Mum About Town.
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