Its Like The Dog Ate My Homework

“It’s Like The Dog Ate My Homework” We stand on the sidewalk for a few minutes, chatting. The husband is smoking a joint, and he hands it over. I suggested that parents’ meeting to discuss their children’s education was generally a positive thing; we merely chose to have our meeting in cyberspace instead of the school cafeteria. My daughter has the misfortune of living through a period of peak homework. This algebra unit, on polynomials, seems to be a matter of remembering a few tricks. Though I struggle with converting from standard notationâ€"for example, converting 0. My older daughter’s homework load this evening is just seven algebra equations, studying for a Humanities test on industrialization, and more Earth Science. I haven’t smoked in a few months, but it’s Friday night and I’ve been doing homework all week. We part ways, and my wife and I go to a Japanese restaurant, where, as soon as I am seated, I regret smoking. It’s going to be hell trying to do algebra tonight with the head I have on right now. My wife and I decide to go out to dinner, and on our way up Hudson Street, we run into another couple we are close friends with. This couple’s oldest daughter also goes to Lab. Instead, she’s watching episodes ofPortlandiaon her computer. The weekend homework includes another 15 algebra equations, studying for a Spanish test on Monday, and, of course, moreAngela’s Ashes. After a few minutes, replies started coming in from parents along the lines of “Thank God, we thought we were the only ones,” “Our son has been up until 2am crying,” and so forth. Half the class’s parents responded that they thought too much homework was an issue. Our math homework this evening is practicing multiplying a polynomial by a monomial, and we breeze through it in about half an hour. When I get home, Esmee tells me she got a C on her math homework from the night before because she hadn’t made an answer column. Her correct answers were there, at the end of each neatly written-out equation, yet they weren’t segregated into a separate column on the right side of each page. I’m amazed that the pettiness of this doesn’t seem to bother her. However, there is always a clique of parents who are happy with the amount of homework. I tend not to get along with that type of parent. As the person who instigated the conversation, I was called in to the vice principal’s office and accused of cyberbullying. Still, because we are sharing our copy ofAngela’s Ashes, I end up going to bed an hour after Esmee. The co-op board meetsâ€"and over my objections makes me secretaryâ€"before I can start on Esmee’s homework. It is now time for me to struggle with Earth Science. The textbook Esmee’s class is using is simply calledEarth Scienceand was written by Edward J. Tarbuck and Frederick K. Lutgens. I tell Esmee that this seems strangeâ€"didn’t she just have an algebra midterm? She says that in her class, they have more than one midterm every term. The teacher was unmoved, saying that she felt the homework load was reasonable. If Esmee was struggling with the work, then perhaps she should be moved to a remedial class. I sneak in and grab her copy ofAngela’s Ashesand catch up on my reading, getting all the way to page 120. The hardship of too much homework pales in comparison with the McCourt family’s travails. School is training her well for the inanities of adult life. Because I happen to be in the middle of my week of homework when this year’s parent-teacher conferences take place, I am uniquely equipped to discuss the work Esmee is doing. And over the years, I have noticed that the amount of homework does let up, slightly, after the conferencesâ€"if enough parents complain.