The time has come. I’ve become what I’ve always hated. After a week of playing games and getting to know the kids, the honeymoon phase is officially over: I handed out homework. The assignment: write 5-10 complete sentences about your favorite food. I don’t think it’s too difficult, but then again, I’m a native English speaker so I’m biased. When I first announced that homework was on it’s way I was met with the requisite groans, sighs, and long faces. “Why do you have to give out homework?” one student asked to my surprise. Wow, I thought to myself – in class you can barely say hello, but when it comes to homework suddenly you’re busting out complete sentences? Interesting? Anyway, I’m not proud of myself, but I was under orders from the principle. As a kid, I always thought that if I ever became a teacher, I’d never give out homework – but then again, I also thought it would’ve been a good idea to have pizza party every time it rained during recess. I’m sure this is how the once trendy hipster must feel after he’s forced to buy a minivan to schlep his kids back and forth to Tae Kwan Do practice. It’s not fun, but it must be done. And just so you know, I’ll still be pushing for that pizza party idea, it’s only fair.