So Much for Playtime

In the summer before my last year in the Faculty of Education (which ended up being "last" in a different way than I thought), I was informed by the Powers That Be that I could not, in fact, take my remaining three academic credit hours as I had planned during the upcoming school year.

This certification year, they told me, was exclusively for student teaching and, as it was on an entirely different schedule than regular classes, I was not allowed to combine them.

(Because, of course, three years in university had not yet fitted me for that intricate task of figuring out my own schedule, and it was totally out of the question that I take an evening class in addition to my day-time duties.)

Scrambling, I checked out the summer schedule, and found a psychology course - Organizational Behaviour. Excellent! A few class discussions on why people go all Lord of the Flies in the absence of clear authority, the odd test or two, and I had it made. The Husband even signed up, too, figuring it would be a great way to polish off one of his Arts requirements. Plus? Doing something as a couple...awww.

The Husband wasn't able to make the first class (but who cared? We could tag-team such an easy class if we wanted to, right?), and so it wasn't until the first break that I could phone him (from - old crone that I am - a pay phone - who uses pay phones anymore?):

Hey, how's it going?

Do you have the school calendar in front of you?

Uh yeah, why?

You need to find any other class that I can possibly take instead of this psychology course. And I mean ANYTHING.

Uh, there's Calculus I. By correspondence.

Perfect! It can't POSSIBLY be more work than this one.

Unfortunately, Organizational Behaviour was being taught by a Ph.D. student that summer. A student who clearly had forgotten undergrad work levels and determined that there was no reason we couldn't read a textbook's worth of material each week, prepare a paper, and come ready to discuss the mountain of reading.

It was either take this class or keep my job (hola, Smitty's!). So I chose Calculus.

I am wondering if perhaps The Girl's third grade teacher is also a Ph.D. student. How else to explain the following requirements:

- 15 minutes of reading every night
- Timed reading of each week's powerpoint every night
- Practicing the week's spelling words every night
- Nightly math worksheets
- Math flash cards to prepare for timed tests

All to a suggested total of 45 minutes per night. The above does not include her English reading, either.

Now, I'm all for helping my child learn. Education is a partnership between parents and teachers, and I want to support her in her Journey to Knowledge. But is it just me, or is this all a tad EXCESSIVE?

It doesn't help that last year's teacher didn't believe in homework, and so assigned the bare minimum. Homework was a sheet or two of math each week, which The Girl did on the bus ride to school because we forgot about it pretty much every time.

Oh, and we're also supposed to read to The Boy every night. 30 minutes preferably, but 10 minutes at the bare minimum.

And I'll bet you can just imagine how well all of this is going over around here. Lots of crankiness, tears, and "I hate homework! This is stupid!"

(The Girl and The Boy aren't terribly pleased either.)

Methinks I should just enroll them in Calculus instead. It couldn't possibly be any harder than this.