Easier is Better. I remember the day I first said that to a client. I was listening to a story I had heard a thousand times before: Homework was ripping at the guts of a family. Tired kid, tired parents; both home from a full day’s work, needing to kick back. Good parents, who would do anything to support their child. Good kid, who wanted to please his parents more than anything. Good teacher, well known for her creativity, her advocacy for kids, her good relations with parents.

I knew one other part of the equation: A friend, a school counselor from the same district, had said the day before, “The whole school is wound up tight about the damned CSAPs.” (I assume it was an accident that the committee responsible for Colorado’s current attempt to leave no child’s behind came up with a name which is pronounced “See Saps.")

The outcome was drearily familiar. The evening was going to homework. Well, no, not really to homework. To avoidance, procrastination, excuses, dodges, then through whines to opposition, and furious defiance. To parental frustration, impatience, recrimination. A toxic soup, where the roux was angry defeat.

I knew what the family did of a summer’s evening, so I asked about evenings now. When did you last play Monopoly? Go for a walk? Watch a movie? Snuggle and read a book? Cook together? Last summer.

“So how’s the current homework game plan working for you?”

“Game!? Have you been listening?!”

“Yeah, not working so well. You’ve all three been spending five evenings a week having a lousy time, and doing and saying things that leave a foul taste. What are you getting for it? Is the job getting done?”

“That’s the most frustrating part. We put all this work into it. We all go to bed exhausted and mad at each other. Some nights I can hear him crying himself to sleep. Most nights, we toss and turn half the night. And the homework isn’t done. Or it’s done badly. Or the next night he tells us he forgot to turn it in! And he’s resenting us! Giving us these evil looks. And you know what he’s learning? He’s learning how to avoid and how to be sneaky and how to do a half-assed job. Sometimes I think he’d hate us if he dared to!”

“You know, I’ve been wondering. Maybe, sometimes, easier is better.”

“Huh?”

“You’re working your tails off, and all you’re getting for it is grief. You all three come home from a long day of work, and you keep on working until his bedtime, and all you harvest is trouble and pain. How about this plan? Don’t do it. Abdicate. Declare defeat. Tell his teacher it’s between her and him – you’re out of it. Tell him it’s between him and his teacher. You’ll clear a space at the table and make a snack if he wants one. If he asks for help, you’ll help unless things go the least bit ugly, then he’s back on his own – you love him too much to be mad at him. It’ll be a lot easier for you, and the outcome could hardly be worse.”

You can fill in the conversation that followed, about being bad parents, not supporting the school, giving their child the wrong messages. But things were awful enough they gave it a try.

And you can fill in this part, too. The teacher was pretty well overworked, so she just told him OK, if his work wasn’t done he could do it at recess, and if it wasn’t done then he could just take the grade he got. He stayed in one recess. Two weeks later, he and his parents were a family again. Easier was better.

A fairy tale ending? Sure. Usually, the kid slips. Sometimes the teacher forgets to enforce. Often, the parents can’t stand letting the kid learn about the world. But on average, it works a lot better. And as I said, it could hardly work worse. Easier is better.