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Key points
- An increasing number of students are struggling to engage with schoolwork.
- Homework can put significant stress on some students and families.
- Free play and letting off steam can help kids build social and emotional skills.
My son’s homework packet sat untouched on my kitchen counter all summer and made me cringe. It was a constant reminder that I didn’t measure up. And it made me worry that maybe my 10-year-old wouldn’t either.
“You’ve got to do your math worksheets and write a report on Shark Wars,” I said. “No more screens!” Sometimes, I whispered a four-letter word.
“I heard that, Mom!”
If I were a better mom, Marty would work on long division instead of typing “balls” into Google to find phrases that describe his second favorite body part.
I’ve tried to get him to focus on fifth grade but his mind is far from what’s needed in a classroom.
"Guess my favorite word, Mom,” he said.
I knew enough not to answer.
“Assassin!”
I tried not to smile.
“Get it? Ass. Ass. In!”
Should I laugh, cry or scream? None would make him do math.
Getting him to put pencil to paper and solve multi-step word problems is like telling a novice jogger who has missed months of training to run a marathon.
It’s not business as usual
There’s nothing ordinary about everyday life right now.
Kids are struggling to motivate due to the chronic stress they’ve experienced since COVID, says Dr. Vera Feuer, a child psychiatrist with Northwell Health.
“[COVID's] impact is lasting, and maybe in some ways it's even worse [now] because of the pressure of catching up. There's an urge to be back. Expectations are back [but] things are not the same,” she said.
Marty had to stick a Q-tip up his nose once a week to test for COVID so he could stay in school. I constantly worried about a pink line and the possibility that one virus will trigger another complicated health condition.
“Be extra careful about COVID,” his doctor said. Marty was diagnosed with Celiac disease this year. The doctor said that diabetes could be next.
The world feels upside down.
Food that I thought was healthy is now harmful.
“I think I ate gluten,” Marty said. “I have a tummy ache.”
I had one too, worrying about crumbs and cross-contamination.
And recent school shootings have shaken our sense of safety.
“H-h-how can that happen?” Marty asked after he read a news story about fourth graders in Uvalde, Texas, who were killed in their classroom.
“Is my classroom safe?” His lower eyes filled with tears. “Those parents must be so sad.”
Simple activities are no longer straightforward. It’s no wonder Marty struggles to stay calm and do his classwork.
He’s not alone.
In this New York Times survey of school counselors across the country, 86% said that students have more trouble focusing on schoolwork now than prior to the pandemic.
Cassie Cerny, an elementary school counselor in Wisconsin, said that students had “less stamina [and] more frustration." They weren’t able to persevere and exhibited “avoidance behaviors.”
On top of days of remote learning, Marty missed school because of chronic fatigue caused by Celiac disease. He’s had learning loss. His teachers hoped he would gain skills this past summer.
Marty got fluent in four-letter words but his language arts homework never got done.
What Marty needed wasn’t academic work
Marty simply wouldn’t do the work. My 90-pound primate with a big brain knew what he needed.
“Call as many of my friends as you can!” Marty said. “I want play dates.”
Five boys came over and couldn’t care less about writing a small moment story. They wanted to live one. They ran across the yard with Marty’s collection of Nerf guns, firing Styrofoam projectiles.
“There goes Seal Team 6!” a friend said.
That kind of unstructured play is more than a simple pleasure, says Harvard educator Benjamin Mardell, who runs the Pedagogy of Play project at the Harvard Graduate School of Education. Free play gives kids a chance to build social skills and improve their emotional regulation. They get comfortable taking risks. Those kids “may be in a better place to be [stronger] learners over the long run,” he said.
Knowing how to enjoy and relax is a valuable skill in our high-stress society. Plus, he said, “Why did you have kids if you don't want to enjoy them?”
I’m tired of snatching Marty’s Nintendo Switch, slamming his door, and swearing.
Chris Prange-Morgan is a parent coach and former therapist who helps her clients build resilience.
"Raising kids is especially hard today," she said. "We're still weathering the dynamics of pandemic life.” And with so many challenges, too many parents feel pressure to be perfect. Prange-Morgan says that is “unrealistic and not sustainable.”
My son isn’t ready to return to routines and adhere to rules. He needs to let off steam before he can power through.
On his first day of school, Marty got goofy when the teacher announced that class snacks couldn’t have “nuts."
The teacher had a stern look while he told me the story. I let out a laugh.
Marty isn’t the only one who is amused by body parts and their functions during pressure-packed periods.
Like mother, like son
In 2004 I covered John Kerry’s presidential campaign as a reporter for MSNBC. Deadlines were tight and demands were intense.
“You have a live shot at 2, 3, and 4,” my manager said. In between live reports, I interviewed voters and edited video clips. Living out of a suitcase with little sleep took a toll. I wanted to quit.
A friend suggested that I find ways to have more fun. “Laugh a little," he said.
What saved my soul wasn’t securing an exclusive interview with the man who might be president. It was buying a remote-controlled fart machine and convincing the senator’s aide to place it near his first-class seat, on the campaign plane.
Members of the traveling press corps were psyched to play a prank.
“What if someone thinks the senator farted?” a colleague said.
“Isn’t that the point?” I answered.
We sat a few rows back and set it off when the flight attendant walked by.
We didn't see the senator flinch. The press corps was pleased.
“He isn’t pointing the finger at someone else,” I said.
By the fifth fart, everyone knew that the flatulence was faux.
The senator’s spokeswoman came back to the press section of the plane and heard us howling.
“The senator is in a very tight race against President Bush,” she said. “And I want the American people to know that Senator Kerry has the best plan to fight flatulence.” She handed me the fart machine.
The senator sat down next to me later and smiled. “I knew that was your idea, Becky.”
After that, the senator seemed to like me more, and so did some colleagues who became close friends instead of competitors.
I got back to business and never quit.
Managing back-to-school stress is simpler than I thought
I finished that job and took others that were even more stressful. I was quick to smile, whether laughing about bathroom breaks with soldiers in Southern Afghanistan, or joking with troops in the back alleys of Baghdad.
Maybe my responsibility as a mom is to help Marty find a balance between meeting reasonable demands over time and finding enough moments to feel joy.
Right now, I’m erring on the side of smiles over screams.
Recently, I opened Marty’s door when his screen-time limit was up.
“Marty,” I said. “Please write some sentences for school.”
“I have an idea,” Marty said. “Let’s come up with words that rhyme with bucket.”
I got to ducket and loved my kid more than ever.
I’ve looked for parenting books on raising crafty, non-compliant kids during COVID, but I haven’t found any in the non-fiction section.
“F*ck it,” I said to Marty. “Forget homework. Can we do something fun together, off screens?”
“Let’s listen to music and dance,” Marty said. He searched for Lil Nas songs. “Some have explicit language,” he said with a smile.
We jumped around and squealed. For a moment, our worries weren’t relevant.
The next day, I talked to Marty. “I’m nervous about homework. I want you to start the school year strong.”
“Mom, I am strong,” he said. “Lighten up. I’m going to be OK.”
Epilogue
It’s hard to know how much to push kids when it comes to completing assignments. There’s no one-size-fits-all approach. Homework puts stress on my family and I’m choosing to opt out, for now. My priority is Marty’s mental health. And mine too.
