Enemy of Science

I have many enemies. Exercise. High-fiber foods. Gravity. I won’t tell you about the day I battled all three at once, but let’s just say it was a challenging sprint to the bathroom. For all my current nemeses, I thought there was one I had left behind for good: homework. I’ve been out of school for a while. In fact, my twenty-year high school reunion is this weekend. That’s obviously a mistake since I can’t possibly be that old. I should have paid more attention in math class. Regardless of how long ago it happened, I escaped the world of education, and I never planned to go back. Not that they would let me. If I so much as approach a graduate school, they have standing orders to shoot on sight. Then I made a critical error: I reproduced. My kids need an education, and education comes with homework, which they do in my home. The nerve. I’m even more stressed out by homework now then I was when I was actually in school doing it myself. I feel like I’m about to flunk out by proxy. These teachers need to cut me a vicarious break.

A few weeks ago, I told you how I helped my eleven-year-old, Mae, make a study guide and cram for a test at the last minute. We finished up right as the school bus arrived. What lesson did Mae learn from the ordeal? Mainly, that if you panic hard enough, you can dig yourself out of anything, as long as you cut the right corners and have an experienced adult slacker as your mentor and spirit guide. Colossal mistakes become everybody’s problem, which means you’ll also get everybody’s help. I parent by the principle of mutually assured destruction. That’s why my kids run this house. The person with the real leverage is the one who’s not afraid to blow it all up.

My thirteen-year-old, Betsy, found herself in a similar predicament Thursday morning, but not by procrastinating.