Every Friday, a bright blue sheet arrives home with my first grader. It details her homework for the week, itemized by subject: a dozen spelling words, daily reading tasks, math workbook pages, and the expectation that she’ll devote 20 minutes to reading and practice addition and subtraction facts for a few minutes each night. By the following Friday, the blue sheet returns to school signed by me, with check marks next to each completed task.
If we manage our time well, the homework takes around 30 minutes each night, not including the reading (which we enjoy together as part of our bedtime routine). However, if we miss a night or fall behind—especially when I’m managing three kids without my spouse due to travel—the workload can accumulate, leaving us scrambling on Thursday night to finish it all. A quick oral spelling review over bowls of cereal on Friday mornings has become a familiar ritual.
I understand the pressures educators face within an underfunded and ever-changing educational landscape. I want my first grader to learn to spell, and I even find a bit of joy (don’t tell anyone!) in tackling the Common Core math worksheets with her. In our household, education is a priority, valued for both kids and adults. School is important—not just as a stepping stone to college and future opportunities, but because we want our children to be engaged and active participants in their learning journey.
Yet, I despise it. I dislike that 6-year-olds have homework, particularly when it consists mainly of worksheets, rote memorization, and repetition. I resent that in the limited hours between school pickup and bedtime, precious moments are spent sitting at a desk with a pencil in hand. I disapprove of how much of this time is dictated by adults rather than inspired by children themselves (after all, what 6-year-old would willingly choose worksheets after a long day at school?). I adore education, value teachers, and cherish the innate curiosity of children, but I can’t stand homework for such young learners.
If I could magically reshape the education system with a single wish, I would advocate for our school to follow the example of P.S. 116 in Manhattan by eliminating homework in the lower grades altogether.
In my ideal world, the blue sheet would include directives like these:
- Explore Outdoors
Pick petals off the rose bushes, mix them with mud and pebbles, and see what happens. Get dirt under your nails and on your jeans. Race snails across the picnic table—name them, feed them leaves. - Embrace Boredom
Experience boredom deeply enough to create an alien language, leading to a make-believe school for your siblings. Ask to mop the floors just for the fun of it. Learn how to combat boredom with spontaneous creativity and imagination. - Enjoy Solitude
Spend time away from adult supervision. Get engrossed in arranging furniture in your dollhouse or ride your bike until you’re breathless. Relish in the experience of being you, without anyone dictating your actions or monitoring your choices. - Read Freely
Read anything available, from cereal boxes to newspaper headlines. Read to your little sister or lose track of time reading past your bedtime. Just read—without logging minutes or pages. - Create
Make something tangible—whether it’s a dirt cake in the backyard, a daisy chain, or a cardboard puppet theater. Use your creations, share them, or discard them and start anew. But don’t submit it; there will be no grades involved. - Write
Pen a letter to a distant friend. Write your name in the shower steam. Create stories with unconventional letters that prioritize expression over form. Craft a manifesto, a poem, or a love letter without the constraints of editing or punctuation. - Contribute
Help out by folding laundry or packing your lunch. Use a knife carefully for the first time. Engage in a debate at the dinner table and stand firm in your opinions. Experience the joy of being an active participant. - Rest
Snuggle into bed with your favorite toy and let the world fade away. Dream without the burden of homework. Sleep deeply and peacefully, for rest is where much of childhood development occurs.
As a rule-abiding parent, I respect our school and teacher, and I strive to work within the existing framework. Each week, we comply with the blue sheet, and my daughter completes her assignments while I provide support, albeit with increasing reluctance as the year progresses. I sign my name, feeling complicit in a system I worry is ineffective, if not harmful.
I long for a childhood filled with exploration rather than homework. I yearn for more opportunities for genuine learning, rather than just assignments. I hope for a better approach to education. Do you feel the same way?
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Summary:
This article discusses the frustrations of traditional homework for young children, advocating for a more enriching approach to learning that emphasizes exploration, creativity, and personal growth over rote assignments. It proposes a transformative vision for education that prioritizes childhood experiences and hands-on learning over standardized homework tasks.