School Project Blues

School projects.

BANE OF MY EXISTENCE.

I think it is safe to say that I hate them. I hate the stress that they bring upon our household. I hate the fact that my children seem to think that they have to reinvent the freaking wheel; that they need to have the most creative, technically difficult and absurdly expensive presentations.

Oh, and did I mention the nagging?

There are only so many ways that a parent can harrass gently prod a child about his/her project. And it all comes down to that last week, anyway, because no matter how much time the teachers have given to complete the project, these are MY children. They came out of the womb with finely-tuned procrastination DNA. There is an unwritten rule that NO PROJECT SHALL BE COMPLETED BEFORE ITS TIME.

Olivia had to create a family tree showing at least two generations beyond herself and include a timeline of significant events in her life. Easy, right?

Not so much.

Because I am an idiot of the highest order, I suggested that her tree should list four or five generations. Finding this info would be no problem for my side of the family because I was the first born, when my parents still had white picket dreams of sweet-smelling cherubs and thus, unlike my cheated siblings, my baby book was painstakingly compiled by a first time mother and featured a very detailed family history. But, Olivia does have a father and when she called him to find out the names of his grandparents, my ex said, "Pops and Nanny". I am not kidding. So, we ended up sticking with the minimum requirements and as she tottered off to the bus today with her poster board, I noted with relief that we had one down, one more to go.

Dylan is in the seventh grade. School projects at his level are serious. Detailed rubrics are handed out months before the due date. The children are expected to work on them a little at a time, doing experiments, research and following up with thoughtful notes and summaries. To say that this year's science project has caused us grief is an understatement.

Dylan's first idea was to make a hovercraft. In his defense, when he suggested the idea, I really wasn't paying much attention and gave him the perfunctory nod of approval because he seemed enthusiastic. The whole conversation was a bit like a Charlie Brown experience in that Dylan was talking and all I heard was bah bah blah, ba blah, ba blah.

Not one of my stellar parenting moments.

Then, I was presented with the supply list. Some things were expected: bolts, a plastic sheet, plywood.... What I didn't count on were the BATTERY POWERED LEAF BLOWER, CANNISTER VACUUM CLEANER, BLOW DRYERS, STAPLE GUN, SABER SAW, DRILL AND FREAKING RAZOR KNIFE!!! Dylan was upset when I told him that unless he found a way to print dollar bills, he needed to come up with something other than a hovercraft for his project. What I didn't mention was besides the insane expense of the whole thing, I had visions of him and his equally impulsive friends on the hovercraft taking my suggestion to go play in traffic literally. So, Dylan resorted to making batteries out of fruits and vegetables, which was cheaper and less likely to land us on the ugly end of a lawsuit.

I thought that agreeing on what he would do would be the hardest part. No so. Getting him to complete this project has been about as pleasant as being clubbed to death. I don't get it. The rubic clearly defines the expectations and provides a detailed outline to be followed. His science book, the internet and his school library give him everything he could possibly need in the way of research. All that is required of him is to spend the time and actually get the work done. But that's the trouble. I've had to threaten CONSEQUENCES (you know, that conversation that sensible, loving, rational parents have with their kids). He has until Friday to turn it in and he assures me that I'm getting my panties in a twist over nothing.

*exhale*

Okay.

Something tells me that I'll be medicating with chocolate on Thursday night, though.