There is no educational merit in this exercise.

What do your Friday mornings look like?

Ours can be summed up in one simple image.


Dr. Woog always pops in for a coffee on his way to Croquet, of which he is the Club President. We sit and chat and do what most parents do on a Friday morning, which is to rush through a weeks worth of homework.

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So riddle me this, folks.

I have a Batchelor of Education, specialising in Primary Teaching. I went on to work at several well-known publishing houses, and spent years editing maths and english text books, a job so unsexy it smarts. Dr. Woog and his family sought asylum in Australia from Hungary. When he arrived, he spoke not a lick of the native tongue, but went on to obtain a Batchelor of Science and Agriculture, a Masters in Science and just to show pony up a little more, was awarded with a Dr. of Philosophy. And while I went on to become a prolific mummy blogger, He went around the world brokering peace deals in the Middle East and lectured super nerds on the benefits of Chaos Maths Theory.

We are pretty close, the old Doc and me. We share similar views on many things. When he volunteers at the school’s canteen, he regales the mums with such interesting tales, one may just cut one’s finger off when preparing a salad sandwich. (no beetroot please SMILY FACE). Just this morning he was telling me that he was astonished that the feminism movement were not up in arms about The Bachelor, and if he could be totally honest, the women kind of all looked the same. He was watching under duress as they only have one television.

While he sits and chats and watches over Jack rushing to complete his homework, I make breakfasts and lunches and drink the coffee and take my lexapro which helps me not beat slow walkers with a blunt instrument. Occasionally, despite my own personal experiences and his superior brain power, a homework task would appear that leaves us perplexed. And we are talking Year 5 homework, not HSC stuff. Sometimes the tasks seem so trivial it is ridiculous. In the biz, we called them filler fluff. Stuff to fluff out the rest of the homework task. We were faced with  one today. Apologies Miss Vernon. Blame me, not Jack.

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The argument for having homework in primary schools, is that it sets you up to have good study habits further down the track. So that means CRAMMING, of which I know a little about. BUT, if two grown people cannot get year 5 tasks, what in the world is going on? I can still recall sitting down in high school trying to work out who the fuck was Pythagoras and why should I give a shit about his theory, something to this very day I have absolutely no need to know about.

To summarise, I would like kids to work on something called RAT CUNNING. For it is rat cunning that has got me to this point in life, and it is rat cunning that will see me through to my twilight years, where I intend to play dead every time a relative enters my nursing home room. Complete with tongue hanging out of my mouth, and my eyes rolled back into my head.

It has been a very long week.

When it comes to your kids homework, how helpful are you?

Got rat cunning?