Should we set homework?

This is a response to the article Homework: Winning the Learning Battle, Losing the Learning War by Pamela J. Stewart at The Huffington Post. She argues that, in the long term, homework does more harm than good because it kills the love of learning:

Who else was an avid reader until the inception of mandatory “summer reading”? Who had an aptitude for math and numbers until the cryptic or rote worksheets started coming home in droves? And who couldn't be kept from writing little stories on any paper within reach until writing became an arduous task[…]?

I wish I could agree, but there is a problem. I am in the business of teaching skills, not facts, and skills take practice. Can I give my students all the practice they need in lesson time? I wish!

For me, the problem isn’t with homework per se; it's with assignments like this:

Complete these sentences.  Use the verb like or likes:
I: I    like    cheese.
you: You            cheese.
he: He            cheese.
she: She            cheese.
it: It            cheese.
the mouse: The mouse            cheese.
we:                       cheese.
they:                                 .

You can buy exercise books full of this stuff: two pages per grammar point. You can set them to do in class or for homework. They are designed to be as easy as possible, and yet some kids still write nonsense like:

the mouse: The mouse    like    cheese.
we:    like       like    cheese.
they:    like       like       like   .

I know they can do better than that. Even if they don’t understand, they can at least raise a hand. But that's not the point: they’re just trying to get the whole tedious business over with. They are not (please forgive the buzzword) engaged.

In contrast, do music teachers ever say, “For homework, play this piece through ten times, without paying the slightest attention to the sounds you’re making.” I don’t think so. I think they say, “If you practise hard, you can master this piece by next week. This passage is difficult, so you’ll need to spend a lot of time on it. Here's how it should sound….” They would not accept the attitude of the student who mindlessly wrote    like    ten times.

Daniel Pink famously wrote that the keys to motivation are: autonomy, mastery and purpose. If we give them drudge work, they become drudges. We need to give them engaging exercises — maybe a puzzle to solve — and set clear, realistic goals for levels of attainment. We can give guidance on how to get there, but with the understanding that, ultimately, they are responsible for their own learning outcomes.

So much for lofty ideals. As a humble Assistant Language Teacher (emphasis: Assistant) of only modest experience, what can I do?

One thing I have tried to do is devise interesting worksheets: puzzles, quizzes and so on. Looking back I notice that, quite by chance, some of these worksheets also give students a sense of progress and mastery. When I look at the end-of-year exam scripts, I notice that these are the ones that seem to have got best results. So that’s something I can do more of.

The other I can do is: let students know that I expect engagement. I think there are cultural issues here. While mastery and perfection are enormously valued in Japan, in day-to-day matters it seems that quantity of effort — or the appearance thereof — is valued over outcome. The kid who wrote    like    ten times is all too often allowed to believe that he has done something of value. Well, I guess I can call them out on that. As one teacher wrote on Facebook:

[…] if I suspect completing without engagement … I ask students: “Do you want to skip homework then, because there is no point you doing it like this.” They’ll almost 100% of the time say, “No, I want to do better.” and get on it….

As for me, as a schoolboy I was the ultimate homework shirker. But when I did make an effort I was always totally engaged, which I guess is what got me into University. I can’t say whether my case supports or detracts from Stewart’s argument, but I think it shows there are different levels of disengagement.