A Shady Story About School Projects

There are typically two types of students: those that LOVE doing school projects, and those that dread them.

And with parents, it’s similar. Some parents fall into the first category, and savor the quality bonding time of assisting their child with a school project.

Me? I’m firmly planted in that second group.

I HATE SCHOOL PROJECTS.

I know as a former teacher, I shouldn’t talk smack about assignments. I should encourage my kids to love these challenges, to work on being self-sufficient, to prepare and plan, and I should enjoy the process.

Just because I SHOULD doesn’t mean I DO.

Henceforth, this story shall be a cautionary tale about what happens when you try to take the lazy efficient way out of helping your kid with a school project.

Our elementary school assigns a few yearly projects by grade level:

• Wigwam: Build a Native American domicile, out of actual raw materials! Use branches, bark, twigs, etc to make a realistic hut.

(The best part of this realism? It’s usually assigned in the dead of winter. Try scraping bark of a frozen tree with a dull kitchen knife. Actually, DON’T- ever.)

• Leprechaun Trap: Hey kids, let’s catch a leprechaun! How about your kid builds a detailed, Rube Goldberg-like trap to trap a tiny creature, only to experience his/her first major life disappointment when they find out that no matter how cool the trap may be, leprechauns aren’t real.

 (“Is Santa fake too, Mom?? Mom?!”)

• Push-Cart Sales: The “kid” (I air-quote that because you can sub “Dad” in right there) has to build an actual wooden pushcart, on wheels, with a lid that opens, to sell a product of their own imagination.

The best part? This gem is assigned during the last month of sixth grade. Graduation is in sight. It’s JUNE.

If you’re anything like me, the last few weeks of school look something like this:

So each kid does at least three major projects. With six kids, that’s:

6 wigwams, 6 leprechaun traps, and 6 push-carts.

I’m not the best at math, but 18 high-intensity projects  X  a harried mom =

NOPE.

After the first three kids, I got savvy. No more wig-wamming for me!

Ethics be damned; I stashed #3’s wigwam in our basement. Come the next wigwam, I WAS READY.

#4 didn’t end up being assigned a wigwam.

So the wigwam sat, waiting.

And finally, it happened.

#5 came home with news that she needed to build a wigwam. It was time. 

There was a little guilt, too, because I knew it wasn’t teaching my kid the honest, hardworking way to do things.

(But not enough guilt for me NOT to still use it.)

The wigwam came out of storage. It had been a rough hiatus. Some extra bark was needed. Out to the tree I went, kitchen knife in hand. But still, #winning!

Until #5 got home from school the next day, with the announcement that crushed my slacker parent soul:

“So guess what? We’re not doing the wigwam anymore. (Teacher) says we have to do a shoebox diorama of a suburb!”

SONOVA!!!!

In an ironic twist, #2 offered to help #5.

She claimed she’s been “scarred for life” (her words) by how bossy I was while working on her own infamous wigwam project, so she’s assumed she could do so.much.better with #5.

(You know what happens when you assume, right #2? Well you do now…)

It’s all fun & games…

Until #2’s own artistic aesthetics clashed with #5’s way of doing things.

(Otherwise known as: “No, it doesn’t go th- WHY ARE YOU PUTTING IT THERE??”)

#5’s need to “stop and dance” didn’t help. Well, #5 loved it. #2… not so much.

Yup, #2- now you KNOW. You think a diorama is tedious, try assembling a wigwam with frozen bark, baby!

But despite the hassle, #5’s project was completed & she loved it:

So it was a good lesson for me in thinking I could weasel my way out of a school project.

And a good lesson for #2 in understanding that IT’S NOT AS EASY AS YOU THINK IT IS TO WORK WITH A DISTRACTED KID WHO’D RATHER DANCE THAN FINISH A PROJECT YOU’VE BEEN WORKING ON FOR OVER AN HOUR, NOW IS IT?

#5 brought it home and started to peel the little girl statue out. I told her that I was so proud of the work that she had done. And I also said:

“Stop peeling pieces off; we have to keep it for #6 to use.”

One day, people. One day…