Surviving Summer Projects Assigned by the School

*Saturday will be rerun blog classic day.  This first saw daylight July 8, 2008.

Every parent’s favorite game with children in the summer is "Time to do your summer enrichment program." and the subsequent corollary, "What's My Motivation?" When the time honored and irrefutable “Because I said So…” doesn’t work and that summer reading list looks more daunting than the latest 360 Vertical Drop Over 55 mph Double Loop Roller Coaster at the park, what’s a parent to do?

1) Assess your child' learning style. Physical? Kinetic? I admit it’s drastic but with eight books left and only six weeks of summer, radical solutions may be necessary. At least, that’s what I tell myself as I have bartered 30 minutes of reading for an hour at the pool as a standard deal.

2) Re-evaluate communication methods. By mid-summer, the parent voice is on permanent mute status with kids unless key words are tagged –ice cream, park, movies, mall and swimming. Verbal exchanges should no longer be considered an effective medium for letting offspring know what needs to be done on a given day. The following techniques are offered as viable alternatives to speaking aloud.

a) Post-it notes with a task on each post it. Special Tip: Color code by child. Every three notes or so, put a treat or prize or compliment. Quarters, Klondike Bars and bubbles for outside work well.

b) Mystery Mom Madness Game: Want your kids to listen? Declare yourself silent. Respond to every request and need as usual, but say nothing. See how long it can endure. Gestures to get in the car did not work well, but loading the car with the babies and honking the horn was emotionally satisfying. By not listing the errands, one avoids the caterwauls of protest for the usual stand-by need to dos, dry cleaning, pharmacy, bank and grocery store. Handing out worksheets and holding up pencils in one hand and chocolate bars in the other got the job done for the day. Sure it was passive aggressive, but exceptionally therapeutic.

c) Contracts: Posted sheets on the fridge. Wanted: Room Cleaned, vacuumed, laundry placed in bag and beds made, will pay top $$$. Call 301-Clean ME! For more details. Also wanted: summer book reports completed, typed double spaced and proof read. Unrestricted access to Wii obo. My teen aged son called on his and his sister’s behalf to negotiate prices. We settled on a trip to the book store where they could use their gift cards. Negotiations for homework remain an unresolved issue of dispute.

3) Family dynamics don’t matter. Power and authority are insufficient to guarantee obedience or competency. The problem remains that parents consider summer projects to be like homework, status quo behaviors that require neither rewards, nor reminders, like not fighting with one’s sibling more than once in any given three hour period. Parents are unreasonable this way, as kids view any time spent studying as ruining the entire purpose and spirit of summer, and fighting with sisters, a protected right under the constitution.

Rational explanations do not fly in such a situation. Showing a chart of fights with the time, duration, nature of the offense and participants do not move said recalcitrant children to alter patterns of behavior. Documenting that the same time would have been sufficient to finish two chapters or four workbook lessons does not work, as it reveals why the parent wants the job done, not why the kid should or must.

Emotional appeals also fall flat. Suggesting major carnage will occur if the bad behavior (determined sloth) does not stop must be backed up with sufficient force to ensure compliance and that's hot hard work in the dog days of August. Again, the maximum labor is foisted on the parent. One must remember this is the child's responsibility, not the parents. Ours is but to nag and remind and supply the opportunity.

So what does work?

POLICY WONK APPROACH: Take the curriculum rationale stated for summer projects and enrichment from the school/district web site, and thrust it in front of the children to read, or read aloud if the offspring in question is not yet literate. If it doesn’t motivate, it might induce sleep, giving the parent 2 to 3 hours of peace.

KID SWAP: Explain that you love summer projects as much as they do, then, offer to switch. You can clean their rooms and do their math. They can change the diapers, do the dishes, fold the laundry, make all the beds of children not able to do so, clean the bathrooms and cook the meals. No backsies for 48 hours. Be sure to tell them, you’ll do as good a job as they do.

NASCAR approach: Point out that they can finish the 60 pages of math in 30 days doing 2 a day each or make it drag out all summer. Offer a big prize for finishing first. Stand back and have plenty of sharpened pencils.

Play Kid Chicken. Post the number of days left of summer to finish the projects publically. Keep the countdown to school prominently displayed at all times. Do not mention projects again. If it comes up, shrug and say something along the lines, “Your project, your grade, your problem. If you want help...” Warning, this takes a firm belief that the kid cares more than you do.

Should the summer program studies still loom unfinished, unloved and untouched…push the Nuclear Red button of parenting.

“You’re right. This is dumb. Tell you what, I’ll home school you this year. We’ll start today.”

Home School?

No other aspect of parenting taxes my personal reserves like having to provide oversight during homework time to my kids.

Looking over my daughter’s math book, I spotted an error. “Two plus five doesn’t equal eight, you need to check that problem again.”

She pouts; her eyes begin to water, “I’m stupid! I’m never going to get this, never never never!” She folds her arms and puts her head down on the table and wails.

Over the two years of helping this one with homework, I’ve tried various responses, soothing tones of reassurance, militant aggressive “you’ll learn it and you’ll like it” boot camp, incentive offerings that make me feel like a time share seller. “Add now and get this glorious peanut butter jelly cookie, fresh baked from the oven…add two and get an additional glass of milk, Vitamin D enriched to ensure that even though you are missing prime playing outside time by doing your homework, you won’t get rickets.”

I've even tried praising her every attempt. Because it made me feel vapid, I used song. Cue Perry Cuomo! “You know that doing your work is… Wonderful! It’s Wonderful…so they say…” She'd humph, bury her blonde head on the table and refuse to move. But then, it might have been my singing.

Research within my own home has revealed all approaches equally ineffective, so now I just stay with the time honored, “I’ll get back to you.” when this happens.

“Do you like my essay?” My eldest daughter brings me her first draft. The writing is excellent but the spelling makes it hard to read. I praise her use of words and turn of phrase effusively as she beams. Then, I gently offer to underline the wrong words so she can look them up.

A cloud appears on her face, she draws in a deep breath and screams. “I can’t spell alright? It’s just too hard!”

“I know you can do this.” And I hand her the dictionary
“I don’t want to!” she shouts tearfully and stomps off.

Now this one, I know. She’ll huff, she’ll puff, she’ll pout up and down but in the end, she’ll fix the errors.

The first one had forgotten her pout until the sister’s response reminded her, “Oh yeah, I’m supposed to be upset.” She reboots her sad face.

Buying time, I check on my son.
“How’s it going?”

“RRRahgh.”
Having to read assigned books for school has reduced his verbal expressive skills to annoyed and angry.

“You know, I loved Charlotte’s Web when I was in third grade.” I started.

“Humph! That’s because YOU WERE A GIRL!”
“Am.”

“Whatever! RRRAGHH!” and he thrust the book back in front of his face with a scowl.

O for 3.

I don’t remember fighting this hard with my parents over homework, although I do remember getting poor grades for what felt like forever until I figured out what the teacher wanted. It involved actually paying attention. Who knew?

“I don’t like the book!” my son was insisting. I tried sympathy. I told him about hating “Lord of the Flies.”
“That book sounds cool! Can I read it instead?”

“No.” Ack! Conversation veering out of control. Going in very wrong direction!
“Why not?”

Think fast! Ummmm…..“You’re not old enough.”
“Do we have it?”

Knowing that if I say yes, there will be a wild gleam in his eyes as he then spends the time that should be allocated to discovering the lyrical joys of E.B. White to find the verboten tome that epitomizes adolescent male rage run amok, I swallow and answer honestly, “I don’t think so anymore.” It is vague enough to cause disappointment. I know in a moment, the spark to be contrary will be extinguished by the return to school work.

“I still don’t like this book.” He explains, thumbing the pages.

“That doesn’t matter. This is the book that was assigned. This is the book for the project. Here is the rubric. Just answer the questions.”

Reading the actual assignment for what oddly feels like the first time, he discovers he can make a 3-D poster instead of a report. Suddenly, Charlotte’s Web rocks as he breaks out the scissors, construction paper and glue.

The fourth child is nowhere to be seen. She has used the commotion to escape to the basement. It takes every fiber of parental discipline I have to call down to her to return. I discover she’s been spelling the words for her older sister. They both give me a mild look of, “and I would have gotten away with it too if it weren’t for you and your meddling!” before sitting down.

Meanwhile, the pouter has returned to coloring and may be safely redirected to math once her masterpiece is completed. She bolts through it like a champ and gushes, “This is easy! I’m really smart in math. You were right Mommy!” complete with a very earnest warm hug. Melted beyond my own willingness to admit, Perry unbidden comes back into my head to finish the song.

“It’s wonderful…so they say.”