Homework

by Glen L. Bledsoe 

As students in school we all had days when we weren't able to attend class. Might be that you had a contagious disease or you broke some important bones needed to support your body as you were shoved down the hall to class. Or it could be your parents were taking you out of school because they made you go on vacation (Brit: holiday). Not guilty, right? You, of course, had no control over that! Or it might be something supremely vital to your mental well being like you just got a new puppy. We all know what's more important, don't we? You can solve a page of math story-problems any time, but your first day with a new puppy only happens once in a lifetime.

But the pits is that when you got back to school there was Miss Schultz with that zombie glare in her eye handing you a pile of books and math homework to last you several lifetimes. Or worse still your mother collected it before you went on vacation and you were expected to work at least 20 minutes each day on it while you were away interrupting your designated, mandatory vacation time. Of course, that never worked out because your parents understood that if you felt like it you could dump the whole pile into the motel swimming pool by "accident."