Homework

Homework is one of life’s curses.

They say that only two things are certain in this world: death and taxes. But homework is a pretty-damned-near-certain third.

For the last few years, 9-year-old Thun has always loved school. This past weekend, for the first time, I heard him say: “I don’t want to go to school!”

I was flummoxed. “Why not?” I asked.

“Too much homework!” he replied.

Then on Monday, I called home to hear 3-year-old Jason screaming and crying in the background, which is unusual.

“What’s the matter with the boy?” I asked Poo.

“Oh, today he got his first homework.”

“That’s my boy!” I said proudly “Fighting and screaming—he doesn’t want to do his homework! Good for you, Jason! Don’t give in. You’re only three, you shouldn’t have homework. If you give in now, it’s 15 years in a row of pointless homeworks from senseless teachers!”

“No,” Poo corrected me, “he’s not crying because he doesn’t want to do his homework. He’s crying because he wants to do more. He was going to fill up the whole book, so I took it away from him; that’s why he’s crying.”

Oh, dear. The brainwashing starts very, very young.