By Dr. Meir Wikler

Most parents only come to school twice a year: once at the end of fall for P.T.A. and once at the end of spring for registration.

Aside from these two evenings, there is often no direct

contact between the parents and the school, unless there is a

problem.

Although parents hardly set foot into their children’s

school, they confront their children’s education every night

through the medium of homework and review.

For some parents and children, homework is a relaxed, pleasant,

nightly experience which blends smoothly into the rhythm of

the evening schedule. Who these people are is no secret. Their

names are listed in the Guiness Book of World Records.

For the rest of us, homework can become a nightly ordeal.

It causes parents and children to lock horns, raise voices and

gnash teeth. The passionate drama is so intense, at times, that

it makes a Greek tragedy look like a comedy by comparison.

Before we, as parents, indict the school administration

and before we whisk our children off to the nearest educational

consultant, perhaps we should first examine some of our

own attitudes about homework and ask ourselves, “Whose

homework is it, anyway?”

IDON’T CONSIDER MYSELF MIDDLE AGED, YET. BUT IF YOU’D ASK MY

children, they’d probably tell you that I went to school during

the Middle Ages. Of course, some things were different

when I attended elementary school yeshivah. We were discouraged,

for example, from watching the now ineffable “box,” but we

were not excommunicated for doing so. (While community standards

have risen, the media’s have plummeted!) And the only “uniforms”

were “yarmulkas and tzitzis for the boys, and skirts or

dresses for the girls.”

But, while some things have changed, I have always assumed

that others would not, and should not, change. One of those Rock-of-

Gibraltar components of yeshivah education is homework, or

more properly, the “h” word.

Now don’t get me wrong. I HATED homework. I dillydallied

and then dillydallied some more. I complained and mumbled and

then complained some more. But I did it. In retrospect, I don’t

believe that it did me any harm. In fact, I benefited greatly from

all of those chapters I reviewed, psukim I memorized and words I

looked up. And if not for all of those compositions I had to write,

I might not have been able to write this article!

However, this generation’s homework situation is very different

from the way it was when I went to yeshivah. Oh, sure, my

children still came home with loads of sefarim, books and stencils,

just as I did; and yes, they did launch into the same impassioned

oratory on the injustices of homework, just as I used to do.

But … they didn’t do the homework, as I did. Instead, my wife and

I ended up doing a lot of the homework for them!

My parents were certainly there for me when I needed help

with my homework, but that usually consisted of little more than

giving me the spelling of a word that I might have otherwise had

to look up in the dictionary or helping me cut a piece of cardboard

in a straight line. Today, it is increasingly difficult for children

to complete many of their homework assignments unassisted;

and in some cases, it is even necessary for the parents to complete

the assignments unassisted by their children!

I would not lift pen to paper on this sensitive subject had I not

surveyed dozens of other yeshivah and bais yaakov students.

Both my wife and I have had experiences which, unfortunately,

have been shared by others as well.

“How long did it take you to answer those Navi questions

last week?” I once asked a father.

“Are you kidding?” the other father snapped in disgust. “I let

my wife do those questions. She went to seminary; I never

learned Navi in yeshivah.”

“How long did it take you to complete the Chumash homework

last night?” I asked another father.

“I’m ashamed to admit it, but I couldn’t finish that one. I

put in about an hour and a half and then I just gave up. So I

wrote my daughter’s teacher a note that she didn’t feel well.”

My wife once asked another mother how she managed the

difficult social studies homework which was due the day after

a chassunah.

“It wasn’t easy,” the other mother explained, triumphantly.

“But we had a long drive to the hall. So I took the social studies

book with me in the car. As my husband drove to the chassunah,

I dictated the answers to my son over the cell phone.”

And so it goes. More often than we would like to admit,

chavrusos are kept waiting, suppers are served late, and shiurim

are missed as parents hassle with their children’s homework. In

some extreme cases, invitations to bar mitzvahs or sheva berachos

are declined as parents are held hostage at home because of

homework. Invariably, tension mounts, patience runs out and at

least one person ends up crying. And it is not always the child!

Hopefully, all would agree that this situation cannot continue.

Firstly, our children are simply not learning from the homework

we do for them, denying them the education they need and

deserve. In addition, we cannot keep up under the strain. Our

relationships with our children are suffering the most as we

become the targets of each other’s tempers, which have been

shortened by accumulated frustration.

As a parent, I found myself singing the all-too-familiar chorus,

“Whose homework is it, anyway?!” How did this happen? When

did it start? Who is to blame?

To answer the last question first, we have to blame ourselves,

not our children. It is our fault for putting grades above learning

and “success” above genuine achievement. If our daughter did not

understand her teacher, if the rebbi went over our son’s head, or

if our children cannot get all the answers right, that does not

mean that we are supposed to do the work for them. They will

gain more from accepting the responsibility for their own limitations

than they will by passing the buck to us.

But parents do not bear all of the guilt for this homework nightmare;

the yeshivos and bais yaakov schools are at least partially at

fault, as well. The drive towards “excellence” in education has gone

too far. Competition is no longer just a problem among students

but also among schools. Some yeshivos are trying to outdo each

other while some bais yaakov schools are attempting to set everhigher

standards. Every few years the level for starting Mishnayos

drops one grade, as does the grade for beginning Ramban.

Let’s look in on the Bergers,* now, as the supper dishes are

being cleared away. Supper started about a half hour later than

usual tonight, so everyone is a bit behind schedule.

* Not the real name.

“If all the traffic lights are green, I can still be on time for my

daf yomi shiur,” Sol Berger calls over his shoulder to his wife,

Esther, as he bolts out the door.

“Shoshanah, don’t go into your room until you’ve helped clear

the table,” Esther instructs her 15-year-old daughter.

“But, Ma, you know I have a major math test tomorrow. I need

every minute to study. As it is, I’ll probably have to stay up past

midnight.”

“Just give me five minutes and then I’ll let you go,” Esther

insists.

After everything has been cleared away from supper, Esther

looks for 7-year-old Yitzy. She finds him in the den, on the floor,

surrounded by his Lego.

“Yitzy, it’s time to review your Chumash homework.

Remember what your rebbi said about the contest?” Esther

coaxed.

“Oh, Ma, not now. I’ll do it with you later,” Yitzy protests.

Esther now looks for the book she was reading and settles

into an easy chair in the living room. No sooner does she find

her place than 11-year-old Ruchie runs in, breaking the peaceful

silence.

“I just can’t do this book report! I don’t understand what

the teacher wants. I don’t know how to do book reports. And I

couldn’t even understand what the book was all about,” Ruchie

pleads to her mother.

“Would you like me to help you?” Esther asks in a calm, soothing

tone.

“I don’t even know how to begin!” Ruchie continues her

whining.

“I’m offering to help you, Ruchie,” Esther repeats. “Bring me

the sheet your teacher gave out in class, together with the book

you read for the report. Let’s try to work on it together.”

Once Esther and Ruchie are sitting across from each other at

the kitchen table, Esther peruses the book-report requirements.

“When is the book report due?” she asks her daughter.

“Tomorrow,” Ruchie replies, cautiously. “And if we give it in

late, points are going to be taken off.”

A few moments later, Shoshanah appears in the kitchen doorway.

She is practically breathing fire from her nostrils.

“This math is just impossible!” Shoshanah announces. “I did

five of the review problems at the end of the chapter and I got

them all wrong. There’s simply no way I’m going to pass that math

test tomorrow. I know I’m going to fail. If I average in the 67 I got

on the midterm, it will take a miracle for me to pass math this

year. I might as well give up now.”

“Shoshanah,” Esther begins, calmly, “What would you like me

to do about this?”

“Maybe you could show me how to do this stuff,” Shoshanah

asks sheepishly. “I can usually figure it out when you explain

it to me.”

Now the phone rings. Esther picks up the receiver.

“Hello?…Yes … Oh, hi, Chavy… Congratulations. That’s wonderful.

I never win anything in Chinese auctions. Your husband

must be thrilled … I’d love to hear all about it but I’m busy with

homework now. Let me call you back tomorrow.”

Now Yitzy runs through the kitchen holding a Lego airplane

and making the appropriate engine sounds.

“Yitzy,” Esther shouts. “I thought you were going to review

Chumash with me.”

“Later, Ma,” he shoots back. “V’room, V’room,” he intones,

allowing the toy plane to carry him down the hall.

“Ma, you said you’d help me with my book report,” Ruchie

objects.

“You know you really could do that report yourself,” Shoshanah

chides her younger sister. “But I don’t stand a chance of passing

this major math test tomorrow unless Ma studies with me.”

Esther Berger steals a glance at her watch, quickly calculating

how much longer it will be until Sol gets home. Her next thought

is, “How on earth did I get myself into this mess in the first place?

Whose homework is it, anyway?!”

Obviously, the problem began well before tonight’s supper.

Once Mrs. Berger accepted upon herself the responsibility to fill

in all of the gaps in her children’s knowledge, she was planting the

seeds for tonight’s crisis.

Months and years earlier, when Mrs. Berger agreed to compensate

for any deficits of memory, knowledge, comprehension,

or frustration on the part of her children, she laid the foundation

for tonight’s dilemma.

Parents can and should assist their children with homework.

It supports the educational process and sends a message that parents

do care about their children’s chinuch. But parents must

make it very clear right from the outset that assistance does not

include last-minute, 11th-hour bail outs.

Children can, at times, be quite manipulative. That is their

birthright. But parents must not allow themselves to be blackmailed

with such comments as, “You don’t want me to fail, do

you?” “If you don’t help me, I just won’t be able to do it myself”

and, “But I’m no good at this and it’s so easy for you.”

It takes courage, at times, to resist children’s pressure. They

can be very insistent and unyielding. In response, many parents

just feel it is easier to do the homework themselves rather than go

through the hassle of confrontation.

The issue here, however, is more than a book report or a math

test. It goes way beyond that. The issue is whether or not your

child will learn to be self-reliant and accept responsibility for his

or her own shortcomings.

No, it doesn’t feel good to fail a test or lose points on a book

report. But that bad feeling may motivate your child to prepare

in advance next time. If you bail your children out today, they will

never learn the more important lesson of how to plan ahead,

tomorrow.

This may sound like a radical approach to some of the parents

who have been picking up, cleaning up and fixing up after their

children for many years. In fact, it might even sound downright

revolutionary.

But that is just what we need. What we need is a revolution!

We need a return to traditional family values! We need to make

homework a job for children, not parents! And we need to end

this hostage crisis so that I can get to my shiur on time!

_ _ _ _ _

Excerpted from Partners With Hashem I: Effective Guidelines for Successful Parenting (Artscroll, 2000)