Post by gatordog on Mar 30, 2009 11:36:01 GMT -5
A front page story in the Trib
Parent projects: When homework help goes too far
From work sheets to science fairs, Illinois schools fight moms and dads who can't leave well enough alone
By Bonnie Miller Rubin and Tara Malone | Tribune reporters
March 25, 2009
nyone who has ever proudly carried Junior's papier-mache heart into the science fair—only to run into the cardiologist's kid with the medical school model—has seen what happens when the line between parental involvement and parental takeover gets crossed.
Science fair season is in full swing, but meddling by mom and dad is not limited to budding scientists. It spans childhood, from the Cub Scouts Pinewood Derby to college essays.
Parents may try to help a struggling child, allow a perfectionist streak to get the best of them or get carried away by their own interest in the topic. But one way or another, dad's or mom's work gets turned in, giving the student an unfair advantage.
In response, several school districts are opting for more in-class assignments, studying the meaning of grades and flat-out reminding parents not to do their child's homework.
"It's so tempting to get overly involved," said Tom Hernandez, a spokesman for the Plainfield public schools and the father of an 8th grader and a high school sophomore. "Your child is a reflection of yourself ... so we're all very invested. But it's a delicate balance."
Vernon Hills parent Barb Rosenstock admitted that she once helped her son build a project for a school assignment. In her defense, she said, it was on magnetic electricity.
"It had to light up and be magnetic," Rosenstock said. "Come on. They're in 2nd grade."
Her son wanted to build a hockey game, so Rosenstock helped him affix magnets to the bottoms of figurines and rig a light that illuminated when the puck hit the goal.
They proudly took it to school only to find an even more impressive "parent project" displayed alongside theirs.
"They literally had a walking, talking teddy bear. They had made a circuit chip. A circuit chip! You're talking about 2nd graders," Rosenstock recalled with a laugh.
To be sure, today's parents aren't the first to be heavy-handed. But teachers say the help seems to be escalating for a host of reasons, not the least of which are the push for parental involvement and the pressure to get into good colleges.
Retired science teacher Bill Gillespie has judged dozens of science fairs, and has seen more than his share of adult entries. Once, he gave high marks to a student who distilled crude oil into gasoline. "She probably used about $30,000 worth of equipment. ... It was only later that we found out her father was a prominent engineer," he said.
It's not just about the big project, either. Teacher Cathy Adamsick said one of her 3rd graders turned in an assignment last fall that was clearly written in mom's penmanship. She sent it home with a note asking that it be done independently.
When she noticed a flurry of assignments that were either incomplete, sloppy or missing altogether, Adamsick, of Mundelein's Diamond Lake School, said: "Enough."
In February she sent a letter to parents lamenting that students seemed slow to "develop a sense of responsibility and independence." Many teachers said they have responded by assigning more projects as classwork, which allows students to ask questions and ensures their work is their own.
Not that parental help is always bad. Younger children especially may need a hand, and can learn from a knowledgeable adult.
When a 3rd grader turned in a fiber-optic replica of the Buckingham Fountain, teacher Jean LeBlanc knew he hadn't built it alone. But when she probed, the boy rattled off a detailed history of the landmark and its operation.
"It was very clear the kid and his father had a great time with the project," said LeBlanc, now principal of Rockland School in Libertyville. "Did the father go overboard? Yes. Did it negatively impact his child's education? Absolutely not."
Sixth-grade teacher Kristen Kubala coaches her students to manage potential interference by asking mom or dad specific questions if they're having trouble rather than handing over an entire essay to a parent's red pen.
"I tell them, 'the biggest thing with writing is, your parents want to help you, and they want to fix things for you,' said Kubala, of Highland Middle School in Libertyville. "I know because my dad was an English major and he wanted to fix everything."
Steve Griesbach, superintendent of Gower School District in Burr Ridge, said homework and grading practices have become so problematic that he is studying the topic. "You don't know whose work you're grading," he said.
He attributes parental intrusiveness to increasing competition, pointing out that Northwestern University receives more than double the applications it did two decades ago and admits only a quarter of them compared with 41 percent in 1987.
But experts caution that over-reaching may undercut a student's self-confidence.
"At some point, you have to let go. The longer you rewrite, revise, build and glue for your child, the less likely they'll be able to do it on their own," Griesbach said. Besides, teachers and students say, parent-cheaters aren't fooling anyone.
When students see a too-slick science display, "We'll just look at each other and say 'Oh, yeah. ... That's totally a parent project,' said Colleen Maloney, an 8th grader and science fair participant at Visitation School in Elmhurst.
John Loehr, the high school science manager for Chicago Public Schools, said that the rules are clear that a project must be a student's work. This year, about 12,000 entries are winnowed down to 343 to attend a citywide fair that starts Friday at the Museum of Science and Industry. It's "highly unlikely" a project could make it to that level if there were questions about ownership, Loehr said.
"The judges are pretty sophisticated ... and the conversation between student and scientists is where all the fancy drapes fall away," he said.
While some parents agonize over where to draw the line, others have set firm guidelines.
Kevin Baxter is an engineer and physics teacher at H.D. Jacobs High School in Algonquin, and he directs a regional science fair. So Baxter was well-prepared for his 13-year-old daughter's first competition.
They brainstormed ideas for nearly a year, settling on an measuring how different materials insulate heat. Baxter offered guidance—and operated power tools when needed—but otherwise kept his distance.
"I pushed her along, but I will swear she did all the work," Baxter said.
Julie Marchese, too, has established ground rules for her four sons, in 8th, 6th and 4th grades (the youngest are twins).
The Vernon Hills mother will buy supplies for science experiments, but she will not assemble them. She will type assignments—"it would take them hours"—but she won't write them. "It's about instilling the work ethic and an expectation," she said.
One recent weekday afternoon Marchese watched as 10-year-old Henry began a math assignment on rounding decimals at the kitchen table.
"It's 18.68. Round to the tenth. So, you round up to ... what?" Marchese asked.
Henry wrote 18.70.
"All right, you get it," Marchese said, stepping away. "You're on your own."
Parent projects: When homework help goes too far
From work sheets to science fairs, Illinois schools fight moms and dads who can't leave well enough alone
By Bonnie Miller Rubin and Tara Malone | Tribune reporters
March 25, 2009
nyone who has ever proudly carried Junior's papier-mache heart into the science fair—only to run into the cardiologist's kid with the medical school model—has seen what happens when the line between parental involvement and parental takeover gets crossed.
Science fair season is in full swing, but meddling by mom and dad is not limited to budding scientists. It spans childhood, from the Cub Scouts Pinewood Derby to college essays.
Parents may try to help a struggling child, allow a perfectionist streak to get the best of them or get carried away by their own interest in the topic. But one way or another, dad's or mom's work gets turned in, giving the student an unfair advantage.
In response, several school districts are opting for more in-class assignments, studying the meaning of grades and flat-out reminding parents not to do their child's homework.
"It's so tempting to get overly involved," said Tom Hernandez, a spokesman for the Plainfield public schools and the father of an 8th grader and a high school sophomore. "Your child is a reflection of yourself ... so we're all very invested. But it's a delicate balance."
Vernon Hills parent Barb Rosenstock admitted that she once helped her son build a project for a school assignment. In her defense, she said, it was on magnetic electricity.
"It had to light up and be magnetic," Rosenstock said. "Come on. They're in 2nd grade."
Her son wanted to build a hockey game, so Rosenstock helped him affix magnets to the bottoms of figurines and rig a light that illuminated when the puck hit the goal.
They proudly took it to school only to find an even more impressive "parent project" displayed alongside theirs.
"They literally had a walking, talking teddy bear. They had made a circuit chip. A circuit chip! You're talking about 2nd graders," Rosenstock recalled with a laugh.
To be sure, today's parents aren't the first to be heavy-handed. But teachers say the help seems to be escalating for a host of reasons, not the least of which are the push for parental involvement and the pressure to get into good colleges.
Retired science teacher Bill Gillespie has judged dozens of science fairs, and has seen more than his share of adult entries. Once, he gave high marks to a student who distilled crude oil into gasoline. "She probably used about $30,000 worth of equipment. ... It was only later that we found out her father was a prominent engineer," he said.
It's not just about the big project, either. Teacher Cathy Adamsick said one of her 3rd graders turned in an assignment last fall that was clearly written in mom's penmanship. She sent it home with a note asking that it be done independently.
When she noticed a flurry of assignments that were either incomplete, sloppy or missing altogether, Adamsick, of Mundelein's Diamond Lake School, said: "Enough."
In February she sent a letter to parents lamenting that students seemed slow to "develop a sense of responsibility and independence." Many teachers said they have responded by assigning more projects as classwork, which allows students to ask questions and ensures their work is their own.
Not that parental help is always bad. Younger children especially may need a hand, and can learn from a knowledgeable adult.
When a 3rd grader turned in a fiber-optic replica of the Buckingham Fountain, teacher Jean LeBlanc knew he hadn't built it alone. But when she probed, the boy rattled off a detailed history of the landmark and its operation.
"It was very clear the kid and his father had a great time with the project," said LeBlanc, now principal of Rockland School in Libertyville. "Did the father go overboard? Yes. Did it negatively impact his child's education? Absolutely not."
Sixth-grade teacher Kristen Kubala coaches her students to manage potential interference by asking mom or dad specific questions if they're having trouble rather than handing over an entire essay to a parent's red pen.
"I tell them, 'the biggest thing with writing is, your parents want to help you, and they want to fix things for you,' said Kubala, of Highland Middle School in Libertyville. "I know because my dad was an English major and he wanted to fix everything."
Steve Griesbach, superintendent of Gower School District in Burr Ridge, said homework and grading practices have become so problematic that he is studying the topic. "You don't know whose work you're grading," he said.
He attributes parental intrusiveness to increasing competition, pointing out that Northwestern University receives more than double the applications it did two decades ago and admits only a quarter of them compared with 41 percent in 1987.
But experts caution that over-reaching may undercut a student's self-confidence.
"At some point, you have to let go. The longer you rewrite, revise, build and glue for your child, the less likely they'll be able to do it on their own," Griesbach said. Besides, teachers and students say, parent-cheaters aren't fooling anyone.
When students see a too-slick science display, "We'll just look at each other and say 'Oh, yeah. ... That's totally a parent project,' said Colleen Maloney, an 8th grader and science fair participant at Visitation School in Elmhurst.
John Loehr, the high school science manager for Chicago Public Schools, said that the rules are clear that a project must be a student's work. This year, about 12,000 entries are winnowed down to 343 to attend a citywide fair that starts Friday at the Museum of Science and Industry. It's "highly unlikely" a project could make it to that level if there were questions about ownership, Loehr said.
"The judges are pretty sophisticated ... and the conversation between student and scientists is where all the fancy drapes fall away," he said.
While some parents agonize over where to draw the line, others have set firm guidelines.
Kevin Baxter is an engineer and physics teacher at H.D. Jacobs High School in Algonquin, and he directs a regional science fair. So Baxter was well-prepared for his 13-year-old daughter's first competition.
They brainstormed ideas for nearly a year, settling on an measuring how different materials insulate heat. Baxter offered guidance—and operated power tools when needed—but otherwise kept his distance.
"I pushed her along, but I will swear she did all the work," Baxter said.
Julie Marchese, too, has established ground rules for her four sons, in 8th, 6th and 4th grades (the youngest are twins).
The Vernon Hills mother will buy supplies for science experiments, but she will not assemble them. She will type assignments—"it would take them hours"—but she won't write them. "It's about instilling the work ethic and an expectation," she said.
One recent weekday afternoon Marchese watched as 10-year-old Henry began a math assignment on rounding decimals at the kitchen table.
"It's 18.68. Round to the tenth. So, you round up to ... what?" Marchese asked.
Henry wrote 18.70.
"All right, you get it," Marchese said, stepping away. "You're on your own."
