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WARNING: THIS COLUMN is meant to be read only by parents of school-aged children. If you
are a child, immediately logout and go back to playing Nintendo, watching TV or do the
other mind-numbing things kids are supposed to do. Go walk the parakeet, milk the dog,
anything except read this column.
What, you're still there? It's about HOMEWORK. There,
now that we've safely established an adult-only zone, it's time to talk tachlis. By the time you,
dear parent, are reading this column, another school year will be over. No doubt you're more
relieved than your kids are. You are now freed for an entire 8 weeks from the slavery of driving
carpool, making interesting lunches (unless, of course, they're going to day camp) and the nightly
chore of going over the day's homework. Isn't it amazing how much evening time this frees up?
And mornings, what a breeze, as the kids just magically get themselves up and ready for camp
before even being asked to!
In one of my previous columns, I calculated that if all the Judaic crafts produced were divided
into the annual day school tuition, it would amount to roughly $500 each for the challah covers,
candlesticks, honey jars, chanukiahs, havdalah sets, matzah covers, seder plates, not to mention
mezuzot, kiddush cups, parsha-related illustrations, etc brought home. The problem is that each
year, our children manage to create yet another unique version of the above. Naturally, each one
is admired for its intrinsic artistic value and all the hard work that went into its creation. And
naturally, like all artists, they expect that the object will be put to good use. Sensitive egos being
what they are, the younger child wants to feel that his version is just as special as the one done
last year by his older brother. During the school year, this leads to frequent competition over
whose kiddush cup gets used on Shabbat, whose havdalah set, etc. Sure, you can rotate them,
you can give them to bubbies and zaidies, aunts, uncles, the mailman, even total strangers. Still,
the supply exceeds the demand, as you eventually run out of lucky recipients, and so we still end
up holding onto most of these beloved chatchkes.
As if that wasn't enough, there's all the paper, the assignments, the mini-books of first numbers,
letters, animals, science projects, spelling, writing, you name it, all loving prepared and presented
weekly for parental admiration. Oy, such nachas! A virtual smorgasbord of learning, plastered
on every available square inch of wall and fridge space, and crammed into every possible nook
and cranny, shelf and drawer throughout the house. I even had to move my antique Prime
Minister-shaped lint collection (a complete set from the gas station!) to make room.
Now, my anecdotal research has shown that most couples are usually composed of pack-rats and
thrower-outers (can't think of a more scientific name). Call it yin-yang, opposites attracting,
whatever, it's a usual marital tension. This all gets heightened when it comes to children's
prolific output. Who knows, maybe the stick figures drawings that Bubbie says are just like
Chagall would be worth millions if sold as Modern Art (it's hard to tell the difference, anyway).
Or maybe that Math or Science assignment is worth submitting in about 10 years' time along
with their Medical/ Law school application, clearly demonstrating their early aptitude or abstract
conceptual prowess?
So this year, we've compromised, deciding to
alternate years; this year is the keep-it-all, next year it's throw-it-all-out. Unless, of course,
there's something that's really unique.....
Jewish World Review June 24, 1999 / 10 Tamuz, 5759
Art by the Linear Foot
By Jordan Max
Around the Max household, the end of the school year also provides a unique opportunity to
finally deal with the year's mountain of original artwork and assignments brought home by our
children. Judging by the volume, you might easily think that the kids were being paid by the
linear foot of material produced. The looming question is just what exactly does one do with all
this stuff?
So every July, in our effort to deal with The Mountain, as I affectionately call it, we have our
annual discussion about what gets saved for posterity, and what gets euphemistically known as
"lost". It's usually a pretty ugly contest, which leaves both the pack-rat and the thrower-outer
with only two real choices. Sure, you can regain some living and storage space, at the cost of
parental guilt on throwing out your children's creations (paid for by hard-earned tuition). Or, you
can keep absolutely everything, just because, well, you never know when you'll want to revisit it
in 30 years' time when the kids have (hopefully) moved away and you want to take a trip down
Nostalgia Boulevard. But to do this, you have to rent out a warehouse to store it all. And if you
keep some, and toss some, how do you know you haven't accidentally thrown out their future
doctoral thesis or billion-dollar invention idea?
JWR contributor Jordan Max is a Toronto-based humorist and columnist for
The Candian Jewish News. Send your comments to him by clicking here.
06/27/99: A lesson in Talmudic hockey
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02/26/99: Purimshpiel '99!
02/04/99: Friday Night Millennium Fever