Dropped boys at school this morning (late – the Monday morning factor) and Jamie hands me a form to sign, acknowledging his latest bad piece of homework. Half a page allocated for my comments, but as I hadn’t even read it, just signed my name as large as I could get away with.
Resolve to address subject in caring manner on way home.
Me: Why was your mark so crap?
Jamie: Cos I didn’t use religion
Me: What – if you’d prayed you’d have done better?
Jamie: No. I should have written about killing off Jesus and stuff
Me: What?
Transpires essay was about whether it’s right to kill but as it was for RE, needed a religious slant. Fair enough until I decide part of caring manner is to ask him what he should have included.
Jamie: Religious stuff
Me: Duh. Like what?
Jamie: You know. Cross and bits
Me: Is that it, cross and bits?
Jamie: I can’t remember, I did it weeks ago
Me: D’you want to write this again, ‘cause you’re going the right way about it?
Why do my kids refuse to answer questions, as if they were under interrogation by the Gestapo? Maybe I should see this as strength and offer them to MI5, for position of captured spy who won’t dob everyone in it.
Meanwhile, homework continues to torture us all. Assume This Will Hurt Me More Than It Hurts You must have originated with homework as I’d rather do theirs three times over, than sit through the moans and escape attempts as they turn 5 minutes work into 5 hours.
Sometimes feel that homework should be added to the Wasted On The Young list. Wouldn’t it be nice to go back to the days when someone bothers to tell you what you’ve done wrong and rewards anything good with a House Point?
But for now, I’ll just take the car doors slammed by both Jamie and me as an indication of Could Do Better.
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