Right and Wrong Edition

 So much of parenting, or grandparenting in my case, is simply doing the very best you can not to screw up royally.  Lessons.  Why are there so many lessons?  

Yesterday, as we were pulling out of the school driveway, Julian said, "I'd like to do something nice for my friend."  That made me happy!  I asked which friend, and he told me a name I'd not heard before.  "He gave me a brownie, so I'd like to do something nice for him."  This sounded reasonable.  So I asked, "What would you like to do?"  "Well, you know how we have to do an illustration with each poem we write in creative writing?"  Of course I did, we've been producing poetry of all manner this year; one a week.  "He asked me to do his." (Inside, I was slamming on the brakes, pulling over, and jerking my head around and screaming, "WHAT THE HELL?  HE ASKED YOU TO DO HIS HOMEWORK?  AND YOU WANT TO???")  "Well, you doing his illustration would be cheating.  It would be cheating on his part for not doing the work, and cheating on your part for doing it for him. Under what circumstances would that be ok?"  The illustrations they use for their poems can be pictures lifted from the internet and inserted in the document, or drawings they have done.  Julian said, "Gaga, he doesn't have a printer at his house.  And he hasn't received his school tablet yet."  AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH.  This was different. "I have a tablet, and we have a printer.  I can easily print pictures for him."  I explained that I understood the problem; his friend did not have the tools to produce a slick illustration like many of his classmates, but I still wrestled with the issue.  I was mad at the school for not making sure all the devices had been distributed, I was annoyed with the teacher for requiring a component that was not accessible to all students, I was proud of Julian for wanting to help his friend, and yet...I didn't want him offering to do other kids' homework.  The kid could draw the picture, I explained, at which point Julian said, "He says he's terrible at drawing, and will get a bad grade on the illustration."  That did it.  The more I thought about drawing skill being a factor in a creative writing grade, the more I understood how unfair it was.  I can't draw to save my life.  If I were in a writing class and my grade went down because my illustration sucked, I'd be mad.

I told Julian I'd have to think about it.  The kid wanted a picture of a snowflake and one of the sun, as his poem was titled, "Winter and Summer."  I settled on the idea of printing images from a coloring page that he could then color.  So we would be supplying him with the tool to do the work, but not doing the work for him.  Julian was happy with this solution.  

Now came the tricky part.  We clearly had to have a discussion about being torn.  On the one hand, Julian felt terrible for his friend who was having an issue in class.  On the other hand, doing someone else's work for them is unacceptable.  I pressed this point, because I also didn't want Julian to think it would ever be ok for him to ask someone else to do his work.  But to me, what really needed addressing was the the assignment itself.  Julian is lucky.  He has a school device, he has a laptop at our house, and we have a printer.  If he needs anything at all for a school project, we have it.  A closet full of school supplies, poster ideas, arts and crafts goodies.  But in a city like ours, where a significant percentage of the population is living below the poverty line, some things are unrealistic.  And maybe, just maybe, printing out pictures for a poetry project is one of those things. I told Julian I was so proud of him for wanting to help, but I also asked, "Did he give you the brownie so you would do his work?"  Julian said yes.  I told him that going forward, he would never take payment for that kind of thing again.  A brownie looks and sounds great; a bribe or reward for cheating does not.  There were too many fine lines in this whole story.

Our agreement on the line drawings for his friend to color in, along with a ziplock full of colored pencils just in case, seemed to satisfy both of us.  As he was getting on the bus this morning, I reminded him to give the drawings to his friend, and then I said, "But Julian..." He interrupted:  "I know, I haven't heard the last of this."  He knows me well.