SCHOOL may officially end at three o’clock, but for many families including my own, the true ordeal begins the moment the contents of bags spill across the kitchen table and maths problems rear their heads.
Most days, it’s all I can do to cling to my cup of tea and take slow, deep breaths between yelling at boys who’ve been sitting in a classroom all day to sit down some more.
For parents, homework has become less about reinforcing classroom lessons and more about sheer survival.
Each evening turns into a negotiation – a battle of wills between weary adults and children who could easily pass as trainee barristers.
Tears are not uncommon, and if I’m honest, sometimes they’re my own.
I find myself questioning whether “carrying the one” is still a relevant concept, or if I’m hopelessly behind the times.
The stand-off over spelling lists and science projects rages on, leaving me to wonder whether homework is truly about education, or simply the universe’s way of exacting revenge for the time I asked my mother for help with a history project, complete with model motte and bailey, at bedtime the evening before it was due.
It’s funny whenever you watch those films where a kid suddenly remembers a massive project at midnight: the mum always seems to dash out for art supplies, roll up her sleeves, and stay up all night crafting a solar system or ancient Egyptian temple worthy of a museum.
There’s usually a heartfelt montage, a few laughs, and by sunrise, wee Tucker is heading off to school with a masterpiece in tow and a grateful hug for his sleep-deprived mother.
But in our house? My ma took a far more pragmatic approach. If I left something to the last minute, she’d give me a look, tell me I was grounded for my own daftness, and send me straight to bed – no late-night hot glue, no frantic trip to Tesco for glitter, just a firm reminder that next time, I’d plan ahead.
I would like to say that this taught me a important life lesson about organisation but I would only be lying, as I went on to repeat this trend for seven years in secondary school and got grounded every single time.
Let’s be honest, homework has its upsides, like teaching children time management, resilience, and the fine art of pretending to understand fractions.
It gives kids a chance to practise what they’ve learned at school (and gives parents the chance to Google “What is a fronted adverbial?”), but the ever-growing mountain of assignments, especially in primary school, often feels about as necessary as an ashtray on a motorbike when little ones would be far better off building blanket forts or inventing games in the back garden than snottering through tear-stained worksheets.
It’s also impossible to ignore the wider challenges facing our schools themselves, across the UK and Ireland.
Chronic underfunding has left many struggling to provide even the basics. Principals and teachers find themselves in a constant balancing act, forced to juggle ever-tightening budgets while still trying to deliver a high standard of education.
Class sizes have grown, resources are stretched thin, and teachers often dip into their own pockets to buy classroom supplies.
At the same time, headlines frequently distract from these critical issues, like education minister Paul Givan and colleagues controversially accepting a trip to Israel just as the Education Authority revealed a £300 million black hole in its budget.
Against this backdrop, it’s little surprise that a minister jetting off to visit a state whose leader is wanted for war crimes, including but not limited to genocide, only adds to the sense of disbelief and frustration among parents like myself who have to wonder what exactly Mr Givan can learn about educational models from a regime that is responsible for the destruction of entire schools, some occupied with children during their demolition.
According to international organisations, dozens have been reduced to rubble in Gaza and the West Bank, disrupting the education of tens of thousands of Palestinian children.
The United Nations has a running tally of demolished classrooms, just in case Paul would like to have a look over it and spare a thought for those whose biggest educational concern is whether their school will still be standing by morning.
Perspective, as always, is a cruel thing.