By Zerline Hughes
The boy has like, nine days of school left, yet the teachers are hard core – still assigning homework, administering final exams like he’s in college or something. Dude – it’s sixth grade. But I asked for this – a great school with great academics to train the kid into a well-rounded, career-ready citizen. Counting down slowly but surely …
The girl, on the other hand has like … 26 days or something, thanks old man winter and your snow days that added like a week to the school calendar! Homework comes every now and then; Teacher Appreciation Week was a few weeks ago, end of the year projects are being assigned and I’m lagging, skipping some activities. I’m in charge of the school’s Facebook page and I’m simply burnt out, not posting as often as I did in September, December, even March. I’m not giving 100 percent — maybe I’m putting forth 50 percent effort — but in school terms, that’s and F, right? I’m tired. So are the kids. And, apparently, we’re not the only one.
Speaker and author Jen Hatmaker wrote a blog post about end of school burnout for her website, and it was picked up by the Huffington Post two years ago. I just ran into today. After reading it, I thought, what a relief; I’m not the only mom who’s ready to give up and start anew in September with a few new clothes, new outlooks and clean backpacks.
She writes: “We are limping, limping across the finish line, folks. I tapped out somewhere in April and at this point, it is a miracle my kids are still even going to school. I haven’t checked homework folders in three weeks, because, well, I just can’t. Cannot. Can. Not. I can’t look at the homework in the folder. Is there homework in the folder? I don’t even know. Are other moms still looking in the homework folder? I don’t even care.”
Don’t care, indeed. But wait: I’m over-achiever super single mom, right? Yeah, that ended last month. Let’s get this school year overwith!
Check out Hatmaker’s genuine blog post, “Worst End of School Year Mom Ever,” and be in good company. You’re not the only one!
” … We used to care, and that counts for something. Next year’s teachers will get a fresher version of us in August, and they won’t even know the levels of suckage we will succumb to by May. Hang in there, Mama. Just a few more days until summer, when approximately 19 minutes into our glorious respite from homework, liberated from the crush of it all, ready to party like it’s 1999, our precious children, having whooped and celebrated and “graduated” and squealed all the way home will announce:
Thanks Jen for your candor!
And heck — in all seriousness, I still have to maintain my life’s work on keeping These Two out of the justice system and from becoming at risk youth. It’s a non-stop, around the clock job, so summer doesn’t even really mean break time. If anything, summer is get-in-gear-time-to-keep-them-stimulated-and-retaining-what-they-learned-over-the-last-nine-months-and-out-of-harms-way time.
The struggle continues.