The school system, while outwardly designed to educate, often cultivates a culture of obedience rather than curiosity. Homework is one of the quietest yet most powerful tools of this obedience. What children are taught is not always knowledge itself, but the ability to complete tasks on time, make no mistakes, and meet the expectations of authority figures. For this reason, many researchers view homework less as a tool for measuring learning, and more as a mechanism for behavioural control (Kohn, 2006).
The history of homework dates back to the 19th century. It was first widely introduced in Europe after the Industrial Revolution, with the goal of training children to adapt to the “factory order.” Punctuality, compliance with instructions, and avoidance of delay were the key principles. In this way, schools transferred the discipline of industrial society into the home (Illich, 1971). Learning ceased to be an act of exploration and instead became a daily obligation.
In the modern era, little has changed. Parents demand homework as a sign of responsibility, teachers assign it to assess students’ abilities, yet children end up learning not to understand, but to finish. Knowledge becomes not the goal, but the means. As American educator Alfie Kohn observes, “Homework itself often becomes the goal, while learning remains in its shadow” (The Homework Myth, 2006).
Homework also undermines the individuality of learning. Instead of exploring what genuinely interests them, children are required to complete repetitive, mechanical tasks identical for everyone. Psychologists Deci and Ryan (2000) note that such compulsion suppresses a child’s natural curiosity. When motivation is externally imposed, intrinsic interest fades. As a result, children become alienated from school and teachers because learning begins to feel like pressure, not freedom.
The dual function of homework (as both teaching and control) has significant social consequences. Several studies show that excessive homework can negatively affect students’ emotional well-being. For instance, research conducted at Stanford University (Galloway, Conner & Pope, 2013) found that more than 70% of students overloaded with homework suffer from sleep deprivation, stress, and academic burnout. For many children, homework no longer represents learning. It becomes an obligation that breeds resentment.
The problem lies not only in the quantity of homework, but in its lack of purpose. Many educators argue that meaningless assignments (tasks that neither explain their purpose nor encourage thinking) can poison the learning process (Cooper, 2007). Children are motivated to learn only when they see a connection between what they study and the world around them. Yet, in most cases, homework is completed out of fear of being tested the next day, not out of curiosity or understanding.
Homework often appears as a mere school routine, but beneath it lies a deeper system of relationships. The bond between teacher and student is too often built not on love or respect, but on authority and control. Homework becomes a daily symbol of that power dynamic. The child has no right to make mistakes, to think differently, or to delay because failing to complete homework is interpreted as an act of disobedience.
Sociologist Michel Foucault’s concept of the “disciplinary society” captures this dynamic precisely. Foucault argued that modern societies raise individuals not as free beings, but as disciplined bodies. The school, he wrote, is the central laboratory of this control (Foucault, Discipline and Punish, 1975). In this sense, homework extends the school’s walls into the home, turning what should be a child’s free space into another site of surveillance and discipline.
Within this relationship, teachers themselves can become transmitters of pressure. They too are measured, evaluated, and held accountable within the same system. If a teacher refrains from assigning homework, their professional performance may be questioned. As a result, the control imposed upon them is passed down to the students. Educational literature refers to this process as the circulation of pressure (Hargreaves, 1994). The teacher balances their own stress by enforcing discipline on pupils.
From the student’s perspective, this relationship becomes a mix of affection and fear. Many children genuinely like their teachers, yet simultaneously carry a constant sense of anxiety towards them. In many classrooms, the teacher is seen less as a source of knowledge and more as a figure who punishes mistakes. When a child fails to do an assignment, it is perceived not as laziness but as disrespect. The child’s emotions and circumstances are dismissed. Only the outcome matters. This is the absence of empathy.
In Azerbaijani schools, this dynamic appears in an even sharper form. Education is still largely built on strict discipline and the culture of fear. Children do their homework not to learn, but to avoid being scolded. Many parents, often unintentionally, reinforce this pattern: “Don’t talk back to the teacher,” “Do your homework or you’ll get a bad grade.” As a result, the teacher becomes, for many children, a symbol of fear rather than affection.
Psychologist Daniel Goleman notes that a brain learning under fear automatically blocks creativity (Emotional Intelligence, 1995). The mind opens only in a safe and understanding environment. Yet most homework is completed with the mindset of “it must be correct or I’ll be criticised.” This makes learning mechanical rather than meaningful.
In this sense, homework functions as a tool of pressure for teachers and a source of anxiety for students. Emotional connection between the two is lost, replaced by a sense of duty and over time, that duty hardens into resentment. Many adults, when recalling their school years, remember not their teachers, but the pressure they felt.
In truth, both teachers and students are links in the same chain. The issue lies not in children’s laziness or teachers’ strictness, but in a system that reduces learning to measurable outcomes. As Foucault observed, “knowledge is a form of power,” and within education, this power relationship manifests most clearly through homework. The question, then, is: What can be done? Can we imagine a healthier model of learning?
For decades, homework has been upheld as a symbol of responsibility in schools. But today, this idea is being fundamentally questioned in many parts of the world. Modern educators are asking: does the child truly learn, or do they merely complete tasks? Research increasingly shows that the quality of learning depends not on the quantity of homework, but on the child’s curiosity and intrinsic motivation (Robinson, 2011).
In countries such as Finland and Estonia, homework has been minimized for years. Instead, children are given “interest-based tasks” small research projects, drawings, short essays, or experiments on topics they are passionate about. This approach preserves individuality while making learning enjoyable. Research from Finland has shown that as homework is reduced, students’ motivation and overall academic performance improve (Sahlberg, 2015).
This experience demonstrates that children do not become irresponsible when given freedom. On the contrary, they show greater curiosity. They perceive learning as their own pursuit rather than a compulsory task, integrating knowledge into life rather than treating it as an assignment. Educational theorist John Dewey expressed this succinctly: “Education is not preparation for life, education is life itself” (Dewey, Democracy and Education, 1916).
A healthy learning model requires changes not only in schools but also in the mindset of families. Parents should inquire about their child’s interests rather than simply checking completed homework. Questions such as, “What did you learn today? What fascinated you?” foster discovery rather than punishment. Teachers, in turn, should act as guides rather than enforcers.
In Azerbaijan, small steps have been taken in this direction. Some schools are attempting to reduce the burden of homework through creative projects and group assignments. Yet the traditional model of “write without mistakes, write a lot, write on time” still predominates. Educational reform, however, depends not only on curriculum changes but also on a shift in mindset. Both teachers and parents must stop treating children as mere executors of tasks.
A truly healthy educational environment emerges when learning inspires joy rather than fear. Knowledge should be presented not as a tool of punishment but as a path to self-discovery. Children naturally love to learn; it is often the system that exhausts them. When teachers become understanding guides rather than controlling figures, and when homework strengthens the love of learning rather than enforcing obedience, schools transform from places of fear into spaces where children explore themselves and the world around them.
Nigar Shahverdiyeva
Sociologist, Research Writer
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