Tag Archives: school

Homework: An Unnecessary Evil?

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girl_homeworkI’ve discussed my feelings about homework here before and it has become a bit of a recurring topic here and on the MommyEnnui Facebook page. A friend just sent me this fascinating article written by Valerie Strauss of The Washington Post and now I’m even more convinced that homework is a waste of time. A number of studies have shown that homework is virtually useless in increasing grades and test scores. Instead, it adds stress to children’s lives, causes conflict between parents and kids and keeps children from exploring new interests and engaging in active, creative play.

I know I’m not alone in this; I have many friends who feel the same way. However, I also know that many parents still believe children should be given homework, some even complain to teachers that their kids aren’t being given enough homework.

I’d love to hear your responses to the above article. What are your reasons for supporting or not supporting homework? Should math be treated differently from other subjects? Does your opinion change when a child gets to middle school? How about high school? I know we have a number of teachers here. What are your thoughts on the subject?

If you, like me, are convinced homework is an “unnecessary evil,” what do you think parents can do to change policies in our kids’ schools?

The Back-to-School Curse

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Still Life with Dog and Sick Kid

Things have gone from bad to worse at the MommyEnnui residence. I don’t know why it always catches me off guard when things go horribly awry at the beginning of the school year. I really should write, “Don’t celebrate yet! The shit’s about to hit the fan!” in my calendar on the first day of school every year.

I already knew last week was going to be difficult. It was the second week of school, we have a new puppy and Ad Man was scheduled to be out of town for several days. That meant that I’d have to get two sleepy, stubborn kids up at the crack of dawn, supervise their morning routine, make lunches and have the girls ready to get on the bus at about 5 minutes past the crack of dawn. I also had to simultaneously get a sleepy, stubborn puppy outside to go potty, somehow convincing her of the urgency of the matter, and then keep her from chewing on the children while they tried to avoid getting ready for school.

We managed to do it, despite a few mini-meltdowns by Biggie and Smalls over the outfits they’d picked out themselves just the night before and complaints about their breakfast which would have been deemed disgusting and inedible no matter what I put in front of them. Surprisingly, Birdie cooperated, contentedly spending time in her crate when I couldn’t follow her around at every moment. I tried not to make eye contact with her for fear of breaking the trance.

It wasn’t all smooth sailing though. This was the first week of homework for Smalls and, borrowing from her sister’s playbook, she cried, whined and ended up doing a half-assed job of it each afternoon. Biggie, on the other hand, was delighted that for once, her sister was the drama queen. She took advantage of the rare opportunity to be the “easy child” by being excessively cooperative and pleasant. Both girls have gotten really good at capitalizing on the other’s foul moods. Generally, it’s Biggie throwing a fit and Smalls smiling sweetly at me, saying, “I love you soooo much, Mommy!” These kissing-up skills should serve them well in their careers someday.

When Smalls got off the bus the next day complaining of a headache and stomach ache, I assumed she’d just developed an allergy to homework. I told her to go lay down in her room if she wasn’t feeling well. After about a half an hour of helping Biggie with homework, I realized that Smalls still hadn’t emerged begging for snacks and began to get concerned. I discovered her asleep in her room with the covers over her head, soaked in sweat. Yep…she was running a fever. At this point, I ran outside, shook my fist in the sky and yelled, “Noooooooo!!!” OK, maybe that part only happened in my head.

It turned out, I had my darling Smalls home with me for the rest of the week and through the beginning of this one. We spent long days watching High School Musical, High School Musical 2, Camp Rock, Camp Rock 2: The Final Jam, Princess Protection Program, Freaky Friday and much, much more. If I see one more Disney Channel star, I’m going to lose my freaking mind!

After 2 trips to the doctor, 2 strep tests, 1 mono test, lots of poking, prodding and pleading for a prescription for antibiotics (that would be me), it turned out that it was just a really nasty virus. Ugh…virus. That word dreaded by parents everywhere because it means you are officially powerless to do anything but wait until the virus is damn good and ready to release your kid from its evil clutches. Poor Smalls was stuck with the thing for 6 days.

Oh, and how could I forget the best part? On Fever Day 2 while Ad Man was still out of town, I had Birdie out to attempt a walk. This time, she took a few steps then planted herself on our neighbor’s uphill yard refusing to leave. I ended up carrying her down a set of uneven steps and twisted my ankle so badly I was sure it was broken. I hobbled home carrying the dog (who’s 20 lbs. now, by the way) and immediately iced my ankle while watching it swell up and turn purple. So, there I sat crying with a erratic, potty-training puppy, a sick child and a husband in Texas not returning my texts or calls. Because, you know, that’s how we roll here at MommyEnnui headquarters.

Without access to my absentee husband, I turned to Facebook for support. The best advice came from my friend S who recommended “B.R.I.C.E.”…bourbon, rest, ice, compression and elevation. Many other friends offered their sympathy and asked if they could do anything to help. Those from far away generally just said they were looking forward to a blog post about the whole debacle. So, this is for you heartless bastards.

On the morning of Day 7, I limped to Smalls’s room to check her temperature. Suddenly, the heavens opened up and rays of golden sunshine pooled on her IKEA rug. (Now that I think of it, that could have been dog pee, but I digress.) Once the room cleared of fluffy, white clouds and angels’ wings, I was able to focus on the thermometer stuck in Smalls’s ear which clearly read 98.6! (That’s 37 degrees Celsius for you Europeans with your fancy metric system.)

My joy overflowed, but after 6 days of vegging on the couch watching TV in her pajamas, Smalls was a little less thrilled with the idea of dashing off to school. Regardless, to the school bus she went! I celebrated by sitting on the couch acting as a buffer between Birdie and the furniture, quietly drinking my tea, and watching something (anything!) other than Nick Jr. I actually left the house to sit in a coffee shop with other adults and begin this blog post. I grabbed some groceries and headed home to the dog. It was a wild day of freedom.

Throughout the afternoon, I hatched big plans for the next day. I was super excited to finally get back to my favorite morning hot yoga class. I laid out my clothes and put all my gear in the lovely, as yet unused, yoga bag my step-mom gave me months ago. I planned to finish this post and finally get it up on the blog. I was also going to make one of the zillion tasty recipes I’ve posted on Vegetarian Mamas recently but hadn’t been able to make with a new puppy and sick kid all up in my grill. I crawled in bed that night knowing that Ad Man would soon be home and feeling optimistic for the first time in a long time.

Same Couch, Different Kid

Same Couch, Different Kid

The following morning, I awoke with the sun…and the whining dog and the prodigal husband attempting to pry the children out of bed. When I stumbled out into the kitchen relieved to see Smalls still looking perky, Biggie moaned, “Mommy…my head hurts.” I held my breath as Ad Man stuck the thermometer in her ear, glanced at it and then turned to me with a look of such pity, it sent me into a complete psychotic breakdown.

I don’t remember much after that other than hearing Ad Man’s faint voice from far above the deep, dark place to which I’d sunk. I’m pretty sure he said, “I’ve got to go to work…you know, that place where people praise and throw money at me for a job well done. How’s that law degree working out for you? Oh, by the way, I have to go to San Francisco for a couple days next week.” Or something like that.

Last Days of School: It’s the Crap-Crappiest Time of the Year

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Dear Parents,

Mistee Roth and I are so honored to have been your PTA President and Vice-President this year. Thank you, again, for voting us into office last August in that hotly contested election against those bitches that were not even Pi Delts! We think it’s obvious you made the right decision.

We have just a few teeny, tiny announcements about the meetings, activities, events, parties, conferences, presentations, performances and parent self-evaluations that will be taking place over the next week and a half. First, parents are all strongly encouraged to attend their child’s art, drama, music, P.E., Mandarin and organic gardening classes this week. Their teachers are anxious to show you all the fabulous work the children have done this year so they can justify their slot in the budget for the next school year.

The kindergarten, 3rd and 5th grade plays will be held simultaneously in three different locations and it’s important that you attend each one of them. The 1st, 2nd and 4th grade music performances will begin a half an hour before the theater performances conclude. They will be held in various other locations on opposite sides of the campus. Ladies, please be sure to wear either a sundress or your finest pantsuit and heels, so no one suspects that you usually spend all day in twelve year-old, velour Juicy sweatpants and the t-shirt you stole from that guy you slept with in the dorm freshman year. Men, a suit and tie will be fine.

Don’t forget, the kindergarteners will be going on a field trip to the zoo tomorrow. Please remember to pack a vegan, gluten-free, peanut-free, non-processed, organic, no-GMO snack in a recyclable PBA-free plastic container for the children to share. All parents, you should sunscreen your child immediately upon waking so the SPF is at maximum potency when he or she arrives at the zoo. According to the school’s legal counsel, chaperones and teachers are forbidden from applying sunblock to any child who is not proven to be his or her own offspring. If your kid gets a sunburn, we will have no choice but to judge you.

If you were randomly selected to chaperone the 2nd graders on their field trip to McCaffrey’s Farm next Tuesday (because you haven’t volunteered for a damn thing this year and you’re not going to get away with that shit on my watch), please don’t forget that you’ll be required to demonstrate to the children how to milk a cow, churn butter, deliver a newborn foal and negotiate a corn maze. YouTube has some helpful videos so you can brush up on these skills before the trip. For the sake of authenticity, please wear denim overalls and a red-and-white gingham shirt.

If you volunteered for beach day this Friday, please arrive at 7:30 am, with one-hundred water balloons. The balloons should be pre-filled and individually labeled with your child’s grade and teacher’s name. Each volunteer must also provide buckets, a garden hose, beach towels, lawn chairs and enough Gatorade for the class.

Finally, next Friday, the children will conclude the school year with a multicultural parade and potluck. Each child is required to wear the native dress of his or her ancestors and provide an authentic dish for which their region is known. Parents, don’t miss this festive summer send-off. Be sure to arrive early! As you know, parking can be difficult, so shuttle buses will be provided from the Kroger parking lot.

Whew! What an exciting year, right? In closing, I’d like to urge you to make an additional donation to the PTA before walking out the door with your dirty potluck dishes next week. As you know, the PTA works hard to provide extra classes and services for our children that the poor schools can only dream of. Also, we are just slightly over budget this year due to the extravagant volunteer appreciation dinner we threw ourselves last month at the country club. (The liquor bill alone could pay for an additional ESL teacher for the next two years.) Give until it hurts, people! I mean, only if you love your children, of course.

Have a super fun summer!
Jillian Worthington-Bellamy and Mistee Roth

Good Things Happen When White People Dance

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This past weekend was the biennial fundraising auction for Swanky Elementary School in the Buckhead neighborhood of Atlanta. While Swanky Elementary is a public school, it is attended by the children of some of Atlanta’s most upper-crust families and celebrities such as former NFL player Jerome Bettis, country music legend Kenny Rogers and the blogger beloved by hundreds, MommyEnnui. (“One of these things is not like the others…one of these things just doesn’t belong…”)

Britney_Justin_Denim_Red_CarpetAahhhh, and what a night it was. Excitement for the event began building months ago when this year’s theme was announced…“Denim & Diamonds.” So creative and not-at-all pretentious! The dress code for the evening was “dressy casual,” much to the confusion of many of Swanky’s parent fashionistas. It was widely agreed that the denim ensembles worn by former sweethearts, Brittney Spears and Justin Timberlake in 2001 would be most appropriate to the theme. Sadly, the fear of showing up dressed in the same outfit as another couple kept anyone from actually donning the attire for the evening. MommyEnnui briefly considered wearing bedazzled assless chaps, but the fact that she’d done a total of approximately ten squats in the past year made the decision to keep said ass under wraps an easy one.

The event was held at the hip, loft-like Mason Murer Fine Art gallery in Midtown because nothing cool like that exists in Buckhead and because few things thrill a well-to-do Atlantan more than pretending to be a New Yorker for an evening. In keeping with Southern tradition, the menu included meat, meat, meat, more meat, a soggy salad and a giant wheel of cheese. MommyEnnui (a vegetarian) was, however, more than happy with her dinner of bourbon, bourbon, bourbon, a chunk of cheese and four shot glasses of chocolate mousse.

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Nothing says “dressy casual” like a mink stole.

The auction itself was extremely successful. This year, bidding was done via cellphone and began two days before the event. This gave attendees ample time to bid on Botox, vacations in Tuscany, diamond cross necklaces (oh-so-appropriate for a public school fundraiser) and golf rounds with celebrities from the comfort and privacy of their own homes. Mere middle-class mortals with hopes of snagging a cheap gift certificate to some fancy restaurant had absolutely no chance of succeeding given that most items were bid up beyond market value. Whoever originally came up with the idea of the silent auction fundraiser was a genius. Put rich people in a room with free-flowing booze, fun buttons to push, and other people they want to impress and you’ve got yourself a goldmine!

obama_painting_cropOne item that failed to receive any bids however was a $3,000 painted portrait of Barack Obama. The opening bid was listed at the bargain basement price of $1,000. This author was shocked that the piece failed to sell. Shocked! The only possible explanation must be that people decided their money would be put to better use if donated to Hillary Clinton’s inevitable bid for the presidency in 2016.

A kooky Mardi Gras marching band, Seed & Feed Marching Abominable, provided some spice to the evening when the members came streaming into the gallery space, horns-a-blowin’ and surprised everyone (except for the event organizers, one would have to assume). The marching band’s appearance interrupted many banal conversations consisting of neighborhood gossip and networking opportunities, and turned the gathering into a real par-tay! The fact that the author has absolutely nothing snarky to say about the delightful band, is a rare occurrence and speaks volumes.

The crowd was also entertained by Atlanta’s favorite cover band, My Favorite Baldwin, in which MommyEnnui’s friend G is the funky bass player. (This was merely a happy coincidence seeing that MommyEnnui raised not a finger to help plan or throw the event…hence the reason one would be completely justified in saying she has no right to criticize a damn thing. Of course, that would be no fun at all.) The band was led by an impossibly tall singer with salt-and-pepper hair, wearing a dark shirt, cream colored blazer and mirrored sunglasses. His ensemble and demeanor screamed, “I may be a 50 year-old tax attorney, but someday I’m going to throw it all away to become a full-time rock-n-roll star!” To be fair though, while the singer was not exactly MommyEnnui’s “type,” he did have a large group of 30 to 40 year-old former sorority sisters on the verge of throwing panties onstage by the night’s end.

The pinnacle of the event was when the lily-white crowd (not the best representation of the diversity of Swanky’s student body, by the way) was brought to its feet to bust-a-move to such frat party classics as Sir Mix-A-Lot’s ‘Baby Got Back,’ The Beastie Boys’ ‘(You Gotta) Fight for Your Right (To Party)’ and ‘Brick House’ by the Commodores. Let it never be said that My Favorite Baldwin doesn’t know how to play to the audience.

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Seed & Feed Marching Abominable

After a long night of reveling and raising money for the poor children of Buckhead, many a middle-aged, Swanky Elementary PTA mom served her kids breakfast in last night’s smeared mascara, weighed down by regrets and a raging hangover. Luckily, MommyEnnui learned two important lessons long ago while a public school student, herself: 1) She who falls asleep in her makeup wakes up with zits, and 2) Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate and take two Tylenol before bed lest ye lament those many cocktails even more than having your pathetic dance moves caught on camera.

While other school auctions may not feature the same big-ticket items or be attended by men in bespoke tuxes and former debutants clad in $300 jeans and mink coats, every school fundraiser can be judged on the same scale…whether there were piles of credit card receipts, stumbling drunks and embarrassing selfies left behind. According to this standard, the 2014 Swanky Elementary School auction was, undoubtedly, a wild success!

Stick a Fork in Me

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These people are lunatics. I blame them.

That’s it…I’ve had it!  I give up!  I would like to be admitted to the hospital, preferably Cedars-Sinai in Los Angeles.  I am suffering from exhaustion.  It may be a questionable diagnosis, but if it’s good enough for movie stars and rock stars, it’s good enough for me, dammit!  In fact, my condition is so dire, I’d like the Beyonce Suite, please.  Didn’t Jay Z pimp out like a whole floor of the hospital for her when she squeezed out Blue Ivy?  Yeah, that’s the one I want.  (I can assure you, I saw no gold plated birthing tubs when I had Biggie there 7 years ago.)

Since this is a self-diagnosis, I suspect the doctors and my insurance company will require some empirical data before they’ll check me into my suite and begin the massage treatments and bonbon deliveries. So, in the interest of science, I am providing the following documentation of my day thus far.

It began as does every other day at our house…with the morning meltdown.  Alarms went off obscenely early, as always, so we would have ample time to get Biggie and Smalls ready to hop on the bus by 7 am.  Unfortunately, we were not up early enough to provide a sufficient cushion for this morning’s super-sized meltdown.  Today’s drama was due to my utter inability to choose the correct socks for Biggie and Ad Man’s ridiculous choice of breakfast foods for Smalls.  Approximately 30 seconds before the scheduled departure time, we were dragging Smalls out from her favorite tantrum spot under the bed, attempting to brush her teeth through her cries of injustice and stuffing Biggie’s feet into whatever socks were closest to the door…quite possibly the dirty ones she dropped there yesterday.

With two kids successfully deposited on the bus and Ad Man off to work, I began the most pleasant part of my day, the sweet, sweet hours in which no one is whining at me.  As much as I wanted to crawl back into my still warm bed, I had many things to accomplish before the beginning of the afternoon’s homework meltdown.  I ran to the gym for a pathetic attempt at a workout.  I thoroughly researched and bought a new flat iron to replace the one that crapped out this morning leaving my hip-mom shag looking more Carol Brady than Sally Hershberger.  I stalked Goodwill for missing elements of the girls’ Halloween costumes and then headed to the grocery store to purchase the items necessary to make a healthy and delicious minestrone soup for dinner.

I was hurrying home from the grocery store so I would arrive before the school bus when I got a call from Smalls’s teacher.  It seems I’d totally forgotten I’d planned to pick up Smalls in carpool instead of having her take the bus since Biggie had an after-school activity at the other campus.  Instead of unloading the groceries from the car, I immediately turned around and headed to school.  Visions swirled in my head of my poor, abandoned child sobbing alone on the sidewalk as the last car pulled up to the carpool pick-up area and she saw that her mother was not inside.

As it turned out, Smalls was unaffected by being abandoned and was happily coloring in the front office when I arrived at school.  I, on the other hand, slunk in with my head bowed in shame hoping that none of the upper echelon of PTA moms would spot me claiming my forgotten child…in a Carol Brady shag no less.

Milking my guilt for all it was worth, Smalls requested that we stop at the park for King of Pops chocolate sea salt popsicles before retrieving her sister.  So, we went to the park, grabbed our pops and sat down at a picnic table so Smalls could do homework. She, of course, dripped chocolate all over herself and her homework and spent half an hour denying that the dance she was doing was in any way related to the fullness of her bladder.  I checked my phone and saw that we were going to be late if we didn’t leave to pick up Biggie just as Smalls began chanting, “I have to pee, I have to pee, I have to pee!” No shit, kid!  Really?!

diagnosis_kidsWe jumped back in the car, headed over to Biggie’s school, ran into the building and located the closest bathroom where Smalls flat out refused to sit on the potty because the door to the stall wouldn’t latch to her satisfaction.  Because, you know, heaven forbid a stray 2nd grade girl should wander in and see a sliver of her sitting on the toilet through the ever-so-slightly open door.  At this point I was pulling my hair out, biting my tongue to keep from yelling all kinds of naughty words in an elementary school and wishing I had a handful of Xanax to munch on.

We managed to track down Biggie who was the second of my two children to wander around looking for her missing mother today and raced home with Smalls’s overextended bladder threatening to blow at any minute.  We skidded into the driveway, unlocked the front door and Smalls ran to the bathroom just narrowly avoiding a pee disaster.  I unloaded the melted groceries from the trunk of the car and thought, “Aaahhhhh…finally, things are starting to look up!”

I was settling in to start overseeing homework and chopping vegetables for tonight’s dinner when it became clear, after a frantic search, that Smalls’s backpack was no longer in our possession.  FUUUUUUCCKKK!!!  Rather than herding the girls back into the car and schlepping them to every location we’d just been to, I called my friend A, sent the kids over to her house and told her to be ready to drink with me upon my return.  I then texted Ad Man and asked him to bring home Mexican food because there’s was no way in hell I was going to cook dinner tonight!

Really, the only bright spot in this day was when I found the backpack sitting right there in the park where Smalls and I left it earlier.  And now finally, after a glass of wine with A, I’m again able to form a complete sentence.  So, here it is…I’m done!  Stick a fork in me. Beyonce Suite, here I come!  I’ll have my driver drop me off at the secret back hospital entrance usually used for whisking in overdosing celebrities.  Make sure that bed is made with 600 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets and get my bourbon I.V. ready to go!

Bless Your Heart

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Biggie and Smalls, my 7 and 5 year-old daughters, have been back in school for a few days and I’m starting to feel like I’ve got this shit down. This is what I’ve accomplished before 7:40 am today:

  • Out of bed at 6:15 am, a time formerly reserved for early flights to somewhere fun
  • Fed two children breakfast
  • Negotiated mutually agreeable solution to sock drama
  • Children dressed
  • Successfully got kids on bus
  • Made all beds
  • Straightened house
  • Dishes in dishwasher
  • Checked email and Facebook
  • Read NYTimes.com (or at least the parts I don’t have to pay for)
  • Checked eBay for mid-century furniture
  • Checked weather report
Urban Dictionary definition,
“Bless your heart:”

1.  This is a term used by the people of the southern United States particularly near the Gulf of Mexico to express to someone that they are an idiot without saying such harsh words.

2.  “You are an idiot but I like you and care about you so I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”

I’m trying not to pull a muscle as I pat myself on the back.  I know, I know…right now, working moms reading this are shaking their heads and muttering, “Aw, bless her heart.”

On his way out the door Ad Man gently asks, “Are you going to yoga this morning?” and urges me to “get out of the house today.” Apparently, despite the strides I believe I’ve made, I’m still giving off that “unhinged” vibe.

So, I sit down and start compiling a list of the things I’ve been promising myself I’d do when I had both kids in school full-time.  Here’s just a portion of what’s becoming quite an extensive list (I’m nothing without a list):

  1. Learn to bake something more complex than cookies and cakes
  2. Learn French
  3. Paint our bedroom (We’ve had color swatches painted on the walls since I bought a new, not-perfectly-matching rug over 2 years ago.)
  4. Figure out landscaping for front yard (The circa-1954 landscaping just isn’t looking as appealing or modern as it could. Wonder why.)
  5. Therapy/career counseling
  6. Be more informed about new music
  7. Sell stuff on eBay
  8. Go camping (or, better yet, glamping)
  9. Start following Lakers basketball again?
  10. Start drawing/painting again
  11. Take a sewing class
  12. Try rock climbing (why not?)
  13. Read classics I’m embarrassed I never read in high school (e.g., Any Shakespeare. Any at all.)
  14. Learn Final Cut Pro
  15. Take the Georgia bar? (This is another blog post–or two or twelve–in itself.)

no_knead_bread

I have already made some progress on Goal #1. The day after the girls started school, I managed to bake a loaf of, by all accounts, beautiful and delicious no-knead (baby steps) bread (please refer to defense exhibit 1, left). You know the one, right?  The recipe has been making the rounds online for weeks.

french_lesson_yale

So, I move on to #2 and start researching online French lessons. I find a French immersion program developed by Yale University. Perfect.  I mean, really, what am I going to do, hold out for Harvard? I load up the first “lesson” which is, essentially, a video of Mireille and Robert greeting each other with an oh-so-Euro double cheek kiss and inquiring after each others’ families, or at least that’s all I can decipher with the limited French I’ve gleaned from reading perfume bottles and fashion magazines.  Unfortunately, Yale has apparently not felt it necessary to update its French video library since approximately 1987 (I’m guessing by the “new wave” clothes and asymmetrical haircuts).  In fact, I’m so distracted by the ‘80s style (Isn’t it bad enough that I have to live with photographic evidence that I was a perpetrator of the same fashion crimes?) that I really can’t follow the storyline.  I decide to try something else.

I complete the process of signing up for a free (non-immersion) online French class through Carnegie Mellon.  Before jumping in, however, I read the introduction, including this warning, like a good, first-born, rule follower…

“Who should study French Online?
The French Online course shares certain characteristics with many online or distance-delivered courses, and as a result may not be appropriate for all students.  Here are a couple of thoughts on what you might need to succeed. You should be a self-starter. In spite of our best efforts to furnish opportunities for communication in these courses, you will have substantially reduced human contact during your studies.”

Great.  Just what I need…even more reduced human contact.  I sigh, and check the clock only to see that the girls will be getting off the bus in less than an hour.  So, I decide to watch HGTV and save my first French lesson for another day. Despite Ad Man’s admonition, I never actually left the house that day, but to be fair, I did get a flash flood warning on my cellphone.  And what are warnings for but to heed?

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