A Perfect Storm (aka Yet ANOTHER Vent about Homework - Sorry in Advance)

What do you get when you mix being out of school for 22 weeks, a new-to-you teacher, new aides, a new(ish) school (she’s in the same building but in the junior high wing instead of the elementary wing)?

Don’t forget to throw a kid like Olivia into the mix and guess what happens?

A perfect storm happens.

On the Wednesday of the first full week of school, Olivia and I sat at the kitchen table for two hours working on homework.

Oh yes, there were tears, hers and mine.

We both cried in frustration over the entire situation. See, here’s the thing: Olivia’s new-to-her teacher expects Olivia to act like a typical seventh grader in that she, Mrs. H, wants to be able to give Olivia a worksheet and then have Olivia actually complete that worksheet without someone sitting next to her keeping her on task.

Yeah. That’s probably not going to happen.

If it does? Well, awesome. I will be the first to throw a party. Seriously. I would be so, so happy. But I am not ordering the cake quite yet.

Another thing this teacher and her aides seem to think might happen is that they will give Olivia oral instructions as to what homework she has and how to complete it.

That’s it. They speak words to my child while she is at school and they expect those words to be retained by the dear, sweet girl so that when she gets home, she’s supposed to TELL me what needs to be done and how to do it.

But that doesn’t happen. She brings home worksheets with questions about ancient Greece and yet…there was no book. No instructions to look up the information on line…nothing.

I asked Liv what she was supposed to do and she shrugged. She had no idea.

She’s not being deliberately obtuse. She simply cannot retain that kind of information. I wish she could. Oh how I wish she could.

I know that her teachers probably think we baby her. Heck, her fourth grade teacher came and SAID that she thought Olivia was playing us. She used those words.

And I get it. Olivia looks so ‘normal.’ She looks perfect. I’m glad for it. I really am and yet, it’s frustrating that people, as in her teachers, expect her to act the way she looks.

She’s not doing this on purpose! If she could do the damned work, don’t you think she would? She doesn’t want to be different.

That evening that we were sitting there doing two hours of homework, one of her aides, Mrs. B, emailed me. This aide has worked with Liv for several years. She gets her. She’s very kind (that’s not to say these new teachers/aides aren’t kind, they just aren’t familiar with Olivia.) and in the email she explained that they’d tried to do the science questions in class but it just didn’t get done.

I replied that I appreciate all that she does for Olivia but I was very frustrated by the lack of written instructions on all the homework she’s been bringing home this year (we’ve had six days of school, for Pete Sakes!)

Mrs. B apologized for the lack of instructions and told me the chapter (14, why are they starting at chapter 14? For the love of Pete!) but said she didn’t have to book with her so she couldn’t tell me the page number. I thanked her for the chapter information and said we could figure it out with that information. But seriously, first of all, CHAPTER 14 at the beginning of the year is stupid. And second, how the hell was I supposed to know to look way the hell back on page freaking 570 for the information she needed to fill out that stupid worksheet?

Ahem.

Her other aide, Ms. P is new to Olivia this year. She seems fine. She goes to science with Olivia, which is great.

On Tuesday, she sent home the worksheet about Ancient Greece. I sent a note back with that blank worksheet and said that I didn’t know how to help Olivia with that work since there were no instructions provided. Ms. P replied to my note with a bunch of jargon I was probably supposed to understand. I didn’t. She went on and on about how they usually do those worksheets in class but the day of the sheet that had come home, Olivia had been taking some kind of placement test.

Okay, whatever. So sent it home but you HAVE to send home written directions so I can help my child.

I sent another reply. This time, I again thanked her for all she does for Olivia. I told her I appreciate that she works with Liv daily and blah blah blah. I then gently reminded her that Olivia is not able to retain instructions from school to home. That the only way I can help Livie with her homework is if she, the aide, and/or the teacher send written directions home with Olivia.

I want Olivia to succeed. I really do. I want her to be independent and to do her work herself. I want her to be able to sit down and do a math worksheet without me sitting next to her telling her to answer the question and then answer the next question and the next. I would love that so, so much.

But we’re not there yet and if they don’t help me help her, we’re going to continue to flounder and I’m going to lose my freaking mind.

And if my husband jovially heads out to pick fucking tomatoes the next time Olivia and I are heading into our second hour of homework, stopping at the door so I can THANK him for being so selfless as to pick those tomatoes FOR ME he’s going to wear those tomatoes. But that’s a vent for another post.