My son was unhappy at school because of how much homework he had. Now he only goes 4 days a week.

• In third grade, I had my son tested for the talented and gifted program.
• He qualified, but all it meant for him was hours and hours of extra work.

When my son was in third grade, he came home every afternoon with several hours of homework. This was my fault. On a whim, I'd had him tested for our district's talented and gifted program, and when I learned that he qualified, I enrolled him.

I believed the program would offer him a more enriched learning experience — I imagined special projects like Rube Goldberg machines and paper-maché volcanoes. The program's brochure explained that gifted children could easily grow bored and slip between the cracks if they weren't challenged and said this program was designed to meet their special learning needs.

But I found that once my son was enrolled in the program, he simply had more work than other kids his age.

His third-grade class was focused on pushing through both third- and fourth-grade curricula, and on top of the extra workload, he was expected to practice his typing skills every evening from a computer at home. I was disappointed on his behalf, but he rarely complained. He seemed to like school well enough until he began middle school during COVID lockdown.

He stopped doing schoolwork

From 2020 through this last year, school became unbearable. With the sense that the world had changed overnight, homework became the last thing he wanted to do. In the early weeks of COVID, he often closed himself in the bathroom and said he was doing homework. When I began to get notices about overdue assignments, he confessed that he'd been listening to audiobooks instead of schoolwork, seeking distraction and comfort.

Even as pandemic restrictions eased, he still struggled with motivation, putting assignments off until the last possible minute. I didn't blame him. The world is still a mess.

I had always imagined that my role as a parent would mean pushing my child to do his best work, but instead, I've found myself trying to convince him that grades are not a measure of his worth or intelligence and that sometimes it's OK to turn in an assignment that's simply good enough.

He seems to feel an enormous pressure that doesn't come from any particular teacher but rather is part of the air we breathe.

He doesn't know what he wants to study, and that's OK

From my son's first year in the gifted program, I've sensed that many of his peers are on the fast track to competitive colleges and careers. Throughout eighth grade, they've been asked to consider what they want to study in college. Some of his peers know that they want an engineering degree or that they want to work in medicine. But my own son's answer, "I have no idea," doesn't surprise me.

That would be great if he had already identified a calling for himself. But it's also great that his main interests right now are learning the guitar, making goofy songs on Garage Band, taking portraits of our dogs, and mastering "Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom." To be honest, I'm proud of him for being clear: it takes courage to say "I don't know," to resist making up an answer to the question that grown-ups are constantly asking of you.

As an educator myself, I have long wondered what world we think we're preparing our students for. Our world needs us to prioritize connection, cooperation, intuition, community, and empathy. I want my son to learn to slow down, rest, and take all the time he needs to tune into what sparks interest and brings joy.

He is going to an alternative school now

And so, this next year, we're trying something new. We're fortunate to have the option of a public, alternative high school that offers flexibility and freedom.

He won't have the option of honors or AP classes, but he will have the option of learning to identify local plants and weeds, work with local artists, and repair a bike in the school's shop. Students attend for half days Monday through Thursday and do independent work from home, and Fridays are optional days designated for extra help.

I'm relieved that he will get a break from what we've both perceived as an endless stream of busy work. I hope we can both catch our breath, find meaning, and have time to connect to what really matters. I hope that he'll get to get his hands dirty, feel connected to adults who care about him, and feel like he's in a community where his learning and happiness matter more than his level of achievement.