Finding Diana

An everyday woman's guide to figuring out what the hell happened to her life

 


Finding Diana
An everyday woman's guide to figuring out what the hell happened to her life


An Exercise in Frustration

Perhaps it's just me, but I don't think so.  The maddening frustration of my evenings is driving me to drink.  What could bring an otherwise competent and fabulous woman to her knees?  Why, fourth grade homework, of course.


Gone are the days when you merely solved a math problem. In today's homework labyrinth you must first draw the problem, then express it with specific shapes, then define it, then express your feelings about it, then ponder it, then review how it was taught in class, then look at it again, then convert it into groups of numbers.  Only then can you begin to solve the damn problem.

And then you must review the problem and highlight the pertinent parts in specific colors.  Gd help you if you don't have the right color highlighter.  

Every day I go through this for at least 20 problems.  Then onto reading interpretation.

Gone are the good 'ol book reports.  A monster has taken their place - the Reading Response. Just the name of it sucks the joy out of reading.  Now you must read for 30 minutes per night, fill out an extensive log requiring information such as the genre of book and what pages you read, and then prepare to write a specific response to what you read in a journal - EVERY night.  If I had to do that every time I read, I would quit reading and only watch You Tube.  

While my child is extremely frustrated, I am beyond insane about this.  I just want to grab the pen and write out the stupid journal entry instead of watching her struggle over the many meanings of a Judy Moody book.  I believe there is a pill to help Judy with her moods.  

I firmly believe there is a vast right wing conspiracy between the vineyards of Walmart and the teachers - how else could they increase wine consumption so much?  

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