It's September, and despite the 100 degree weather we're still experiencing here (thanks for that Texas, really), it is back to school time for nearly everybody. The majority of people I know started school about three weeks ago, towards the end of August. This was the first week that my cousins were back in the office though, due to their mom starting up dance classes again (teaching). Now they've been in school for about three weeks and there's really not a lot you can do wrong in the first three weeks of school, right? Well apparently not. My uncle had serious conversations with not one, not two but all three of the boys about homework and grades (The joys of a small office and a loud boss). And this got me thinking. How the heck did he know about it?
I was not the best student in the world. Okay let's rephrase that. I was not a good student. I was smart, and I knew the answers to stuff, and I loved to read, but I hated the homework. I hated projects. I hated having to turn stuff in. I did pretty well on most things, though there were a few classes I completely slagged in. But for the most part, I went along my own way, doing what I wanted to, and not worrying about the consequences until they came up. Don't get me wrong, I was still in AP classes, and graduated from high school in the top ten percent. But I could have applied myself more. And my parents didn't really know until the consequences came out that I was slacking on homework and projects and studying. AFTER the fact. Like when I brought it to their attention, or when I got progress reports or report cards. Which came in the mail. Nowadays, and it may just be at the schools my cousins attend, parents can go online and find out not only what homework their kids have for that day, but also the future tests and quizzes they're going to have, as well as grades. Teachers are constantly updating their online stuff, and parents can log right in and find all they need to know in order to make their children keep their noses to the grindstones. I would have been so much more of an achiever if this had been the case in my day. Or, more likely, I would have buckled under the pressure, done my stuff, then gotten to college and completely gone crazy with the power of freedom of not having eight teachers plus my parents constantly breathing down my neck. At least that's what I think.