All that bitching about how much homework Olivia had in the first full week of school and how little direction we were given for helping her do said homework made an impact.
After several frustrated emails to her teacher and both of her aides, we are now being spoon fed O’s homework.
Instead of a worksheet with literally no instructions whatsoever, now I get a paragraph of directions along with page numbers for the book we’ll be using to look up answers and the page actually marked with ¼ piece of cardstock, just in case I’ve forgotten how to count and am unable to open up a book to the right page.
While this extreme opposite approach to her homework is slightly insulting, it’s more than a little amusing. If
I did ask her team to help me help her and that’s what they’re doing.
And I’ll take it. I’d much rather they act like I’m a complete moron when it comes to O’s homework than have them send work home with the assumption that I can read minds or that I was actually there all day with Liv, knowing exactly what she’s doing in each class and how to help her figure it all out by the time she gets home.
So, hey, look at that, this is not a rant about homework. What do you know.
A mom, a dad and two daughters. We're living ordinary lives with a twist of 5p- (Cri du Chat) for spice. But we're about so much more than our younger daughter's genetic diagnosis.
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