The end of summer vacation is looming for us parents and our kids. And, as the start of the school year draws closer, I have begun my annual tradition: the daily nagging of my children to complete the summer homework mandated by their schools. 

I am sure that I am annoying them.

And, of course, they are annoying me. 

Their procrastination and “ho-hum” attitude when thinking about picking up their books and laptops again is driving me nuts. Just as it does every summer. 

To help quell some of the household friction resulting from the impending assignments – from my 8-year-old reading a book and drawing a picture of the setting, to my 10-year-old’s storyboard of a book he’s read, to my high schoolers having two 300-page books each to read in the next 10 days – I started to devise a schedule to get the work completed by the first week of school. 

As I worked on this, I realized why my kids don’t care about this mandated summer school work. This feels like A LOT of work for little (or no) return. For both of us.

I cannot blame them. Most of their friends don’t bother with it. Why? Because they’ve never had a teacher ask them to turn in their summer homework. The simple nature of this work indicates its lack of importance.

From my teenagers’ point of view, we are the only parents who give a crap about completing summer homework. While I’ll discount their claim of being the “only kids that have to do this,” their lethargy has been taught by past years of little or no value credit given by teachers for students who had completed their summer assignments by the first day of class. If there’s no reward for the work, why do it? 

Summer homework or busy work?

For my younger kids, they see the “read a book and draw a picture” nature of their summer homework assignments and laugh at their simplicity. They feel intellectually patronized by a garbage assignment that wastes their time. Unlike my teens, though, their friends are participating (and complaining about the same BS work being asked). 

What do parents do? 

Do we stand with the schools and demand our kids complete the remedial work they have been assigned? 

Do we ignore these inconsequential assignments that only seem to increase our household tension over these next few weeks? 

I have decided to do the latter. 

There will be no more laying out study schedules. No more checking daily reading logs. No more demanding that my teens prove they have been reading through selfies sent during my working hours. And, mercifully, no more watching my kids scramble at the last minute to complete an assignment that has awarded them little more than a pat on the head. 

Enough. 

Drawing the line on summer reading assignments

It is time, I think, to stop the practice of piling homework on kids during the few months of the year they have time to decompress. Summer homework is not only meaningless, but it also unnecessarily cuts into a remarkedly short few months away from the classroom. 

What is wrong with kids (and parents) just chilling out?

Nothing.

Will reading that book and drawing its setting help my rising third grader springboard into a new school year?

No. 

Is summer homework a function of needy parents who need the credibility associated with “your school requires this” behind them to get their kids off their phones?

I think so.

Unlike past years, my kids’ summer school work will not be done when they charge into their next classroom in a few weeks.

Maybe that puts them a bit behind but maybe it doesn’t. 

No matter, it ensures that I will be spending the next few weeks helping them enjoy their fleeting freedom instead of annoying them with the structure that can certainly wait until the attendance bell rings. 

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This blog post is part of the #NoDadAlone campaign. Fathering Together/City Dads Group, the National At-Home Dad Network, and Fathers Eve are joining forces to amplify messages that help dads recognize we are not alone! Follow #NoDadAlone on Instagram, and learn more at NoDadAlone.com.

Photo by Oleksandr P via Pexels.

Our daughter was born two weeks late. I remember going into the hospital nursery and thinking she looked more developed than most of the babies. That’s when I concluded that this meant she would hit all her infant milestones and first-year benchmarks quicker than the rest.

I often think back on a story my dad told me from his childhood. My grandmother insisted that he was potty trained at 3 months old. When asked why, my grandmother said she would look in his crib, and, if his eyes were watery, she knew he had to go to the bathroom. A silly story, of course, but it only reveals to me how we convince ourselves how special our kids are for the “normal” things that they do.

But are children smarter because they talk earlier? Will they be more adventurous and dexterous because they walk earlier? Will they have a more developed and discerning palate if they eat earlier? If we read to them earlier will they read sooner? These questions can go on and on, but I can say that by pondering these issues too much we put undue pressure on both ourselves and on our daughter.

Infant milestones: Helpful or hurtful?

Our daughter missed some of the so-called earlier first-year benchmarks that she should have hit and those so-called failures fed into our neuroses. We questioned whether we were doing anything wrong or if there was anything wrong with our daughter.

Our doctor assured us that infant developmental milestones and benchmarks were only a guide. However, in a competitive world of “whose child was more mature and more advanced,” we were left wanting. We created a self-induced paranoia that got us worried that there was something wrong with our daughter. Were we to blame? There needed to be a reason. 

I remember when I was finally assured that to keep my sanity I should ignore those infant developmental milestones and other benchmarks. We just needed to do what we could to encourage our daughter no matter where she was in the growth process. This finally hit home at one of the dance/music/movement classes we had enrolled our daughter in.

We liked the class leader because of her ability to not only encourage and enhance the life of our daughter but also to be approachable to us as parents when questions arose. I remember the day of my “approach” like it was yesterday. Concerned our daughter was lagging because she wasn’t crawling, I went to her after class. I told her my concerns and she gave me a simple answer. She told me that when our daughter was ready to walk, talk, sing, or in our case crawl then she would do it. We should allow ourselves the peace of mind to know that our daughter would do everything at her own speed and when she was ready.

Guides, not absolutes

Sure enough, she was right. 

We continue to recognize this idea while attempting to potty train our daughter. We realized she understands the idea of going to the potty and will occasionally go; however, she just isn’t ready yet. She will tell us when that time arrives. 

I believe infant benchmarks are certainly important as guides, but that is only how we should use them. There are definite warning signs of developmental delay to be aware of. However, it is generally recommended to avoid hitting the panic button until your infant is missing milestones by several weeks. Then you should talk to your doctor.

Today, we have a child who through love and encouragement is where she is supposed to be right now. When we put pressure on ourselves to follow those benchmarks as the rule of law, disappointment and doubts in our ability as parents were too often the result. There was so much more nuance to raising our daughter. Instead of paying attention to where she should be, we need to just enjoy her for who and where she was at every “benchmark” age. 

Take it from a convert. Save yourself the anguish and enjoy your children as they are.  The mood swings and tantrums of an almost 3-year-old will make you long for the days when they couldn’t crawl, roll over, or talk. 

About the author

Matthew Pasher is a part-time stay-at-home dad. He’s an avid reader, and a Liverpool fanatic who can make a mean mac and cheese from scratch when asked.

This article first ran in 2012 and has since been updated.

EDITOR’S NOTE: This post first appeared on the NYC Dads Group blog in 2012. It has been updated for 2023.

Several months ago, after countless hours of Dora the Explorer on Netflix, I turned on one of my favorite cartoons from my youth, Spider-Man and his Amazing Friends. To my delight and surprise, it is now my daughter’s favorite show.

Recently, we went to a superhero-themed birthday party and she went as Firestar, her favorite from the show. Other kids were Spider-Man and Superman, but she was the only one dressed as an obscure character from a 30-year-old TV show. I think it’s pretty awesome that she is so into something I loved as a kid. Heck, she brought her Iceman figure to a Korean barbeque restaurant the other day.

And on the first Saturday of May, we will venture to a local comic book store to celebrate Free Comic Book Day.

Comic books can build a love of reading

As much as comic books are often derided, they can be a great tool for getting children reading. Younger kids will like the pictures and want you to read the stories, which encourages them to want to learn to read on their own. For kids who can read, especially reluctant readers, comic books are an accessible way to get into reading. I know many educators who use comics in the classroom as a way to get kids reading. And as a dad, I think it is a source of new stories to read. After all, how many times can you tell the story of Little Red Riding Hood?

Another thing that is great about comics is they appeal to a wide audience. Boys and girls, kids and adults can find something they love about comics. With character licensing being the way it is, children know who all the major superheroes are as the person from their friend’s backpack or T-shirt. So why not expose them to the source material and open a new world for them?

So what is Free Comic Book Day?

Free Comic Book Day is usually the first Saturday of May. Participating comic book specialty shops across North America and around the world give away certain comic books absolutely free to anyone who comes into their shops. Since the inception of the program in 2002, tens of millions of free comic books have been given away. 

What is cool about Free Comic Book Day? It can help turn you on to something you have never read before and find a new favorite. You’ll be sure to find some with well-known superheroes, like the Avengers, but you’ll also discover many others. You’ll also be able to pick up more grown-up comics, including graphic novels. For example, I found a Valiant Comics sampler featuring X-O Manowar and a Buffy the Vampire meets The Guild crossover.

The first year I went with my child, the selection of free comics included very kid-friendly fare: Yo Gabba Gabba, Donald Duck, and The Smurfs. So there really is something for everyone!

The last time I went to Free Comic Book Day I ended up with a stack of freebies and I end up buying another stack for myself, which is good because it helped support an independent comic book store.

Find a participating store near you

Need help finding a comic book store near you? Check the store locator on The Free Comic Book Day website.

Photo: © bizoo_n /Adobe Stock.

As an at-home-dad for more than a decade, I pride myself on the ability to read and understand ancient languages. I am the Rosetta Stone of baby talk. Toddler got a problem but has the vocabulary lower than the dog? I’m your guy. A teenager that has invented a new system of language based on memes and TikTok? I can write the dictionary and teach it at the next convention.

But the Post-it Notes my wife leaves around the house? Well, not all codes were meant to be broken.

The Post-it Notes are based on a language I can only assume take its inspiration from fairy dust and abstract art. I run across these colorful cryptic message many times throughout the day. Sometimes I can make progress, such as “Surely, that is a word that starts with an X!” Then I realize that it’s not an X, but a sign invented for deaf musical geniuses … and how can I not understand that?

Let’s take the above Post-it Note as a typical example. I found out many years later that this was meant to be a grocery list and not a communication from a new alien civilization asking me for help. Using my highly developed reading and writing skills, I determined that the first word on the note is “juice.” We are off to a good start.

The second word, now that is a P followed by butterfly wings. I consulted my Egyptian Hieroglyphics urban dictionary. I concluded that I was supposed to let the pee fly at the grocery store. Then I realized that if I squinted, it’s could be a B. Which would be PB, shorthand for “peanut butter and jelly,” two separate items that aren’t one product. I deduced that my wife wanted a sandwich and then she would pee in an airplane. This is going smoothly, no?

After I got the P and B, she wants “banditos.” An interesting request as I would have to travel all the way back to 1865 Mexico, but I could probably do that. I’ll get the alien civilization to help.

After that, “lunch meet” is up, which again, a bit weird. But I love meeting lunch, so I’ll do that after the banditos. We’ll catch up on the kids and family.

So far, I find that this is going well and much easier than one would expect given my wife’s inability to write on Post-it Notes in any way that a normal person could understand. Once she left me a note to “Make sure you flap the flog” which is not the sexual reference/kink talk I was expecting. Instead, it meant fix the toilet. She’s also terrible at sexting.

After lunch meet is where I get stuck. We need “dimes by Sunday.” Clear as day, that is what the Post-it Note says. I don’t know what is going on during Sunday, but apparently, this is very important to get at the grocery store.

Or — hold-up — what if I’m reading it wrong?

It might say “Dinos on Sunday.”  That’s a bit of an emergency because I’m not planning on making enough tacos Sunday night to feed a group of prehistoric creatures.  Maybe that’s why we need the dimes? That makes sense.

Then the list tells me to get the “Ranch at the Coffee,” but I think that is a harmless typo. What she means is to go to the ranch and get coffee. Like, the cowboy kind that’s served as dark as night and with a little trail dust on the rim. Everyone takes it differently and whatever she needs to make it through the day, I’m here for her. And I’ll be sure to pick up the “reamer” that is next on her list. I can only assume this is cowboy lingo for sugar.

I’m pretty sure that the next item on this Shakespearean manuscript is “mouse traps,” but I’m making the allowance that it could also be “moose traps.” You can never be too careful with moose as they eat all your cheese, the greedy bastards.

I’m having a problem with the next two. It’s either “Twit Fly stuff” or “Twit Fly Traps Stuff.? Writing in straight lines is sometimes a challenge for her.  And I’m not sure what a “Swahes” is either. Using my brain powers again I can make two conclusions.

Option 1: Twits are a type of space pirate flying around our galaxy, and we need to trap them before they swish their hips in an inappropriate manner. I believe Elvis was a Twit Pirate when he was starting out.

Option 2: I have a hell of an infestation in my house with the mouse, the moose, the twits, and the fruit flies, and if I’m not careful, they too will soon read my wife’s Post-it Notes and then wonder why they get yelled at when they return from the store with only Flying Pee and Dimes.

Photo: © OliverFoerstner / Adobe Stock.

Comfort is king when coping with a pandemic. Just look at the nostalgic family activities that have returned to so many homes: arts and crafts, card and board games, cooking and gardening. As we all continue to nest against our will, our Zoomed-out brains and bodies crave non-virtual, low-tech, familiar experiences.

Fortunately, one of the retro family experiences that has been coming back (or at least holding steady) has been the pleasure of reading print books. Anecdotally, I can confirm this by the increased use of our family’s Little Free Library in the front yard. As a writer and former English professor, this cheers my heart. It also makes sense.

Here’s why: Think back to your earliest memories of reading (or being read to from) a print book. Remember the sights, sounds and smells. Chances are you’re feeling calm and cozy. In my case, I hear the raucous laughter I shared with my sister as she read The Emperor’s New Clothes to me before bedtime. I see the “Reading Corner” in my kindergarten class where I devoured the same Curious George books I read at home to help me adjust to school.

The power of a printed book is hard to overstate, especially for growing children. The rise of screens in family life has been unavoidable and has only accelerated during the pandemic. But there are still ways for parents to foster appreciation of what pages offer that screens do not.

Reading screens not same for kids

In their recent book How to Raise a Reader, Pamela Paul and Maria Russo hope that even in our digital age, reading for pleasure can remain “as much a part of the timeline of growing up as climbing a tree or learning to ride a bike.” Reading print books at home helps “self-regulation and executive function — those life skills that make us happier and well adjusted: controlling impulses, paying attention, setting goals and figuring out how to achieve them.” Also, “studies have shown that children, even more than adults, absorb and retain stories better when they read them in print.”

Paul and Russo’s tips involve developing family rituals around reading print books when children are quite young. For example, read to children often, model your own book reading, and make sure print books are part of your home environment. Keep age-appropriate books in most rooms, in the car, and in your travel bags. Make it easy for children to “discover” quality books, whether new, used or from the library.

My favorite tip, and one that has worked wonders in my house, is to provide a child with “his own bookcase or small standing bookshelf.” A child’s own bookcase can be filled with both already-read-favorites and to-be-read-soon titles, whether chosen by your child or you. I remember stocking my daughters’ shelves with recommended reads over the years. Some never got read, but others became cherished keepsakes. For example, my younger daughter “discovered” R.J. Palacio’s Wonder thanks to product placement on her shelf at home. Gradually, we both read this novel about a boy with a deformity entering school and then compared it to the film version together.

Regarding how to stock a child’s bookshelf, Paul and Russo emphasize identity, diversity and empathy. They explain: “Literacy experts talk about the need for a child to be exposed to books that are both ‘mirrors and windows,’ in the words of the scholar Dr. Rudine Sims Bishop. Some should be mirrors in which a child can see herself; others, windows into the experiences of people who are different.”

To find quality books, they recommend winners of the American Library Association awards (like the Newbery and Caldecott). Also, the A.L.A.’s “Coretta Scott King, Pura Belpre, and Robert F. Sibert awards honor the best African American, Latino, and nonfiction books of the year.” An example would be Brown Girl Dreaming by Jacqueline Woodson, a “memoir-in-verse, perfect for readers ages 10 and up, that sweeps personal and African American history into one lyrical, flowing story of one girl’s experience of growth, change, and family and community bonds.”

Children become readers at their own pace

If you’ve tried to foster reading print books at home and it has not worked, fear not. Late bloomers abound. I did not become an avid reader until 10th grade, when Richard Wright’s Native Son — both the story and the way it was told — made a huge impact. Also, consider alternative forms of screen-free “reading” — e.g. audiobooks, podcasts, spoken word poetry, graphic fiction, comics, humor or photography books that overlap with your child’s interests.

Either way, just keep modeling the value of printed books, especially during the pandemic. Try to imagine what will come to your adult children’s minds when they are asked to remember their first experiences of reading print books. Hopefully, the same warm sights, sounds and smells we remember will zoom through their minds regardless of how digital their future becomes.

Photo: ©Africa Studio / Adobe Stock.

EDITOR’S NOTE: City Dads Group is working with longtime partner Dove Men+Care to create “how to” videos for the grooming products company’s “Dads Care” campaign. We will be featuring the videos and scripts our members appear in. This one features Drew Bennett of BenSpark Family Adventures and our Boston Dads Group with a little help from his children talking about how to set up a reading routine.

Reading is such an important activity for our family. My wife and I read to our children when they were small every night, and it has paid great dividends. My daughter, Eva, for example, is now a voracious reader, reading and rereading multiple book series. She even started a book club with her friends during quarantine and is collaboratively writing a story with one of her other friends.

Here are my tips for how to set up a reading routine with your children:

Talk to your child about what interests them

Whether video games, animals, art, fantasy, adventure or comedy, start with what you learn will hold your child’s interests start there. Eva likes like fantasy with a little bit of action and some mystery. Andy is interested in action, comedy and fantasy together; he also enjoys books with animals who are the stars.

Set aside time just for reading

Start with just 15 to 30 minutes each day of screen-free reading. If your children are old enough, they can read on their own. If they have younger siblings, encourage them to read to there little brothers or sisters. It will will help them become better readers and will give them bonding time. Encourage young readers to read to their grandparents, aunts and  uncles, or cousins — whether in person or via video chat.

Make books available in your home

One reason we bought the house we live in now is because it had a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf in the hallway. At some point every day, you’re gonna go down that hallway and see all those books. My wife and I filled it with the books that we loved at first, then we added books just for the kids and their own books. They are always there, in view and available, on that bookshelf to read at any time.

Use other media, formats as a springboard

If a book has been made into a movie or a television series, then read the book together and watch the show together. Another avenue to pursue is to read comic books or graphic novels together. These have the best of both worlds: amazing art and great dialogue. Or buy or borrow audio books and let your children listen to them at bedtime. While its difficult to visit book stores and libraries these days, you’ll find apps that allow you to borrow virtual copies of books and read them on different devices.

Reading routine photo: ©Africa Studio / Adobe Stock.

My wife approves of my keeping one mistress. She happily walks in on me as I’m cozying up with an Abraham Lincoln biography, a Wall Street Journal op-ed page or the latest edition of Time magazine. If she’s out of town, I’m never alone long. I’ll quickly get intimate with Charles Krauthammer, Neil deGrasse Tyson or an elegantly stated case against the anti-fossil fuel argument. But only one at a time: I don’t have the stamina I used to.

These late-night visits to the native English language are my after-hours escape and salvation. You see, I’m an English-language copywriter living in Israel. I’ve worked with dozens of otherwise intelligent, high powered, high functioning Israeli high tech executives who nonetheless believe that the linguistic ocean that separates Hebrew and English can be crossed by copying and pasting words and phrases into Google Translate. The problem is that while English overflows with nuance and subtlety, Hebrew is the language of a people in a hurry: direct, unambiguous, aggressive. They’re about as similar as oil and water, as compatible as Cain and Abel.

So I spend my working days swatting at flies. Countless remarks, memos, meetings and edits have turned my creative writing output into a mush of barely coherent copy. And while eating humble pie allows me to fulfill my financial obligations, there’s more to life than the sum total of our responsibilities.

I adore my wife and adore our kids. Full stop. Still, I can’t settle for being a glorified proofreader with a pension plan. A father who puts a roof over his children’s heads, food on the table and clothes on their backs is doing what a father is supposed to do. You never see anyone taking a bow for paying their taxes, obeying the law and not clipping wings off flies.

If we’re not careful, the pesky brush fires of our daily tasks can grow into an inferno that consumes our dreams.

Revere their dreams and yours

I don’t know where my dreams came from or why they persist. All I know is that they are my soul’s DNA, the magic stuff that puts a spring in my step, sparkle in my eye and smile on my face. My time to shine, as a published novelist, screenplay writer, political commentator or some combination thereof, will arrive. If not, the adventure, the quest, will have still made me the superhero of my own life’s movie.

But there’s much more at stake here than one middle-aged man’s desire to reach his fullest potential. I’m the father of four children — ages 7, 5 and twin 3-year-olds. Their little brown eyes are always watching their old man, learning. Confident, cocky and flush with the bloom of youth, my kids aren’t easily impressed by anyone or anything: as it should be. If me and my wife manage to teach our four headstrong pixie pirates anything, it’ll be to revere their dreams and listen to their hearts. By following their true north they may be delayed, but never lost.

We live in affluent times. It’s too easy to check our ambitions at that door leading into a white-collar office job in southern Tel Aviv. But the price of admission is steep: erase the vision we have of ourselves for a steady paycheck and risk-free existence.

I suppose I never quite grew up. So, I will continue to strive and continue to fail, the way my two little boys continue to try and climb up our living wall like Spider-Man. Thing is, while they’ll never be able to defy gravity, their legs get stronger each time they try and their balance improves each time they fall. Hard fought failures sharpen our instincts, clarify our thoughts, bring us one step closer to our goals and help us dig the person we see in the mirror every morning.

Standing still is not an option. It only attracts flies.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Gidon Ben-Zvi is an accomplished writer who left behind Hollywood starlight for Jerusalem, where he and his wife are raising their four children to speak fluent English – with an Israeli accent. Ben-Zvi’s work has appeared in The Jerusalem Post, Times of Israel, Algemeiner, American Thinker and Jewish Journal.

Dreams photo: ©Ivan Karpov / Adobe Stock.

Think back to your childhood neighborhood. Beyond the memories of family and friends, what is your warmest recollection about the neighborhood itself?

I was lucky enough to grow up in a neighborhood that featured two elderly women called “the Candy Lady” and “the Sucker Lady.” In elementary school, my buddies and I learned that they lived a couple of blocks away, next door to each other. Near their back doors they kept a bowl of wrapped candy and suckers, respectively, for kids to enjoy. Each time we rode our bikes to their houses, we couldn’t believe the treats were there again, like a gift from the year-round-Halloween heavens.

I hadn’t thought about these women for decades until my wife, two teen daughters and I moved into a new neighborhood about two years ago. Unfortunately, on the corner of our front yard, a dying tree needed to be removed a year after we moved in. As my wife and I lamented the large space left behind, we got an idea. Instead of just planting grass, why not install something that might benefit the neighborhood?

Enter a Little Free Library.

Little Free Library is a nonprofit organization that promotes reading and community via small, portable libraries that homeowners can place on their property. (A family or group of families can buy one, or people can build their own.) The motto is “Take a book, share a book.”

My wife and I wanted to encourage very young children to discover the joys of reading, so we chose a low bench library with a window. After painting it yellow and turquoise, we put some inexpensive, used children’s books in the bench and placed it in the front corner of our yard.

At first, puzzled passersby approached the bench like they might be on a hidden camera show. Gradually they would inspect it, open the lid, and explore the contents. Then, word must have spread, because books continue to fly in and out of the bench nearly every day.

Little library offers low-tech pleasure in a high-tech age

Part of the library’s success is due to the high-pedestrian traffic of street we live on. Thankful neighbors regularly approach us to say how much their children or grandchildren enjoy diving into the library. Indeed, one neighbor’s very young son couldn’t contain his love of reading when he asked: “Mr. O’Keefe, can I take all your books?”

As a writer and former English professor, I’m thrilled to foster the sublime pleasure of reading a physical book in our screen-dominated age. I remember vividly how The Emperor’s New Clothes made me laugh uproariously as a child. And I will never forget the paradigm-shifting moment when Sinbad the Sailor realized the island he stood on was actually a live whale. For my own daughters, picture books like The Paper Bag Princess and Stand Tall, Molly Lou Melon made them beg for re-readings during their early years.

The way that a bench full of books has impacted our neighborhood reminded me that parenting does not happen in a vacuum. As our homes increasingly become high-tech bubbles, it’s easy to forget the importance of a child’s physical environment — including what they encounter on walks and bike rides. The tiny library has become a found poem, a symbol of shared passion for a classic activity drenched in novelty for kids and nostalgia for adults. The library also operates on the honor system, symbolizing trust in everyone to give and take books appropriately. Indeed, we have rarely had to restock the bench — that magic happens by itself.

Granted, times have changed since the days of “the Candy Lady” and “the Sucker Lady.” Today, neighbors giving candy to children would justifiably be treated with suspicion. But those women’s generous spirit has managed to live on. The more passive nature of a little library has turned out to be a gratifying way for our family to contribute to our new neighborhood.

Maybe decades from now some of the neighborhood children will have warm memories of the yellow bench on that corner long ago. Will my wife and I become “the Library Couple”? We would be honored.

Photo: Vincent O’Keefe

Over the summer we received a letter from my future kindergartner’s school saying ALL kindergartener would be using iPads as part of the regular school day. These “device days” would take place throughout the school year and kids would be encouraged to bring their own tablet from home. They even had an acronym for it: BYOD – Bring Your Own Device.

My acronym for BYOD was WTF, but I calmed down a bit and settled on OMG.

Why would my kindergartner need to take an iPad to school? All I see her use it for at home is watching YouTube videos of other people opening toys (the pros call it unboxing … have you seen this nonsense?) or watching other kids and creepy adults act out scenes with Barbie dolls. To say I was skeptical with the whole BYOD thing would be a definite understatement.

Just last year my son was a kindergartener at the very same school. There was no talk of device days. There was no need for kids to take devices to school. They sounded out letters together as a class, they looked through books together, they learned just like every other kid on the damn planet has learned to read since the beginning of time … all without the help of an iPad.

I emailed the principal and told her I didn’t think my daughter needed screens every day and I sure as hell didn’t think my daughter needed to bring an iPad to school every day. She understood my frustration. She also informed me, “This was the direction the district was taking.” I could tell this wasn’t the first time she’d had to use that line with a parent.

She gave me a bit of hope that this was something that would be beneficial for the kids. And, at the end of the day, I guess it doesn’t really matter what I think about it. If helps my kid learn then that’s what’s most important.

At the beginning of the school year, the administration sent a reassurance letter to parents talking about when devices would be used, what they would be used for (and not used for), etc. We were given printouts of apps we could download, apps they would be using in the classroom, usernames, and passwords for these apps.

Usernames and passwords. Ugh. It kind of felt like they were turning my 5-year-old into an adult. Man, do I fear for the future of a generation that has to start memorizing usernames and passwords at the age of 5.

But, I must say, after only a month into the school year, her reading has improved tremendously. We still work with her at home quite bit, the old-fashioned way, using books. (Books are things that have covers, spines and pages you touch. They also don’t have to be plugged in or charged ahead of time.)

Apps may not be my favorite learn-to-read method, but my daughter is really excited about them. Our kids receive screen time on the weekends at home and recently our daughter has asked to use her reading apps on the weekends instead of watching those toy videos on YouTube. So I guess that’s a bonus.

Overall, my feelings about devices are pretty mixed. On one hand, it’s working. I should be happy about it. But on the other hand, there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with the old way either. I guess it’s just the start of me, now that I’m 40, being an old curmudgeon that talks about the “good ol’ days”.

Next, I’ll start talking about the days of having to look up books. In the library. Using a card catalog.

Anyway, I suppose that’s another post for another time.

A version of this first appeared on Indy’s Child.

This week marks a big literary anniversary. Twenty years ago, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone was published. (Let’s marvel at that number for a second. Has it really been two decades since we were first introduced to Harry, Ron and Hermione — the spunkiest, the cleverest wizards ever if ever a wiz there was?)

I, like so many others, read the book during that summer of 1997. As a writer, I marveled at the fully realized world, rich and enchanted with detail, that author J.K. Rowling had created. As an unabashedly excited reader (27 years young at the time, mind you), I appreciated how Rowling swirled together a balance of whimsy and darkness. I was completely engaged in the story, which began with a fairytale-like premise (orphan turns out to have magical powers and a fantastic adventure awaits him on his birthday) and steadily became much more substantive as the characters matured over the years, and Potter’s world took on more texture and gravitas.

My daughter read Sorcerer’s Stone 10 years after I did. I know most parents probably have a story about the first time they watched their child fall in love with a book. However, in my house, getting my kid to love Harry Potter (and love reading itself as a result) required some careful, strategic planning.

Here’s how it played out:

The setup

Riley, then 6, was already an avid reader. She was also a kid who had an instantly adverse reaction to anything recommended to her by her parents.

I don’t know what that’s about. She and I had tons of fun together during those early years, but she always had an immediate distrust of anything I officially endorsed. I’ve tried tracing this back to an actual incident. Did I promise she’d love something that ended up traumatizing her? For example, did my hyping Finding Nemo and then (SPOILER ALERT!) her seeing those first eight minutes where super scary and awful things happen scar her for life?

Not really. At least, not that I remember. But if there were ever to be a book, TV show or movie that I distinctly didn’t want her to watch, all I had to do was recommend it to her. After that, it would be on her “No Way” list.

When I realized Riley was the right age to love Harry Potter, I decided I would have to proceed very, very carefully. If I approached her the wrong way, my daughter would miss one of the most important literary experiences of her young life.

She’d never experience the wonder of Harry’s story.

She wouldn’t imagine what it might feel like to sit in a boat at night with other first-years, steadily drifting across the water as the silhouette of Hogwarts’ towers rose from the mist.

She wouldn’t be curious about what the Sorting Hat might say when perched on her head in the dining hall.

She wouldn’t fantasize about sneaking through the castle at night, listening for the faintest whisper of Parseltongue from just around the next corner. Or racing through a dark and spooky labyrinth to reach the TriWizarding Cup and save the day.

I really didn’t want my daughter to miss all that. If I could just get her into the first chapter of the first novel, Rowling would take care of it from there.

On a summer afternoon, while Riley at lunch downstairs, I casually entered her room, Sorcerer’s Stone in my hand. I gently slipped it into her bookcase, between Ozma of Oz, and Captain Underpants. (I thought about putting it on her nightstand, but realized that would be too much — she’d see right through such blatant placement.) I paused, making sure the book wasn’t sticking out from the others. It’s purple-covered spine was definitely noticeable among the rest … but not too noticeable.

Then I left.

After Riley finished her sandwich and apple sauce, she bounced upstairs, back into her bedroom, and resumed whatever she’d been doing before lunch.

The discovery

Three days passed. Nothing.

On that next afternoon, as I worked in my home office, Riley came in with a resolute, skeptical expression on her face. Sorcerer’s Stone in her hand.

“What’s this?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“What’s what?”

“I found this book on my shelf. Did you put it there?”

“What’s the book?” I asked, pretending to appraise it.

“Oh, right,” I said, “I think I’ve heard of this.” I had to consciously remind myself not to make even the slightest positive reactions, like Yeah, I think I heard it was pretty good. Even that could’ve ruined it.

“Where did it come from?”she asked, looking me right in the eye. It was like we’d just switched roles. She was the reprimanding parent, and I was the kid being busted for doing something wrong.

“Oh, now I remember,” I said. “I think I put it on your shelf because I thought it was yours.” Evasive, but not an outright lie.

“It’s not mine.”

“Oh. Well, you can keep it or not. Up to you.”  Then I turned back to my computer and pretended to be very, very, very focused on something else.

I felt her standing behind me as she scrutinized the book cover featuring Mary Grandpré’s illustration of a young Harry Potter whizzing across under the title on his Nimbus 2000 as he reaches to catch the Golden Snitch.

She said nothing more, but turned and went back to her room.

I had no idea whether my devious ploy had worked. You can’t make a kid like things you like. Riley was the Princess of Skepticism, and I had always been the King of Trying Too Hard. This whole situation could go either way.

Four more days passed when, going by her room, I peeked in and saw her reading it. Again, I had to stop myself from bursting in and saying, “Isn’t that book awesome? Have you gotten to the part where Harry plays in his first Quidditch match yet?” Instead, I simply backed away.

Harry Potter comes through

Two days later, the payoff came.

Riley ran into my office, holding the book in her hand: “I just finished that book you gave me! It was AMAZING!”

I feigned surprise.

“It was? That’s cool. You know what, I think we have a couple more from the series in the shelf in the living room if you want to read the next one.”

“OK!” She whirled around and scurried off. She would read the next two books in three days, and beg for the fourth one in the series.

Yes, I took a minute to congratulate myself. Father of the Year.

She’d enjoyed books before Harry Potter. But she’d never read so much, so fast, with such passion.

So on this auspicious week, let me say: Thank you, J.K. Rowling. I really owe you. I’m glad I had the common sense to get out of your way, and let your book cast its magic spell on my daughter without my interference.