If You Give a Student an Extension...

If you give a student an extension, they’ll reply to your email with a Thanks so much! before immediately opening up Google Classroom in a new tab to begin the assignment because we Stuy students never procrastinate, right? They’ll read the directions, read them again just to make sure that they didn’t miss anything (because that totally doesn’t count as procrastination), create a new Google Doc, and then remember to set the font to Times New Roman, size 12. Just as they’re about to type the first word, they’ll notice that their desk is overrun with pens, pencils, notebooks, eraser dust, and crumpled papers. They’ll probably tell themselves, “I should be working in a cleaner environment.” They might get carried away and start cleaning their entire room, because they haven’t felt this motivated to clean in ages, and it would be a shame not to take advantage of their newfound inspiration. Once they’re done decluttering their desk, making their bed, vacuuming the carpets, dusting the shelves, mopping the floors, wiping the windows, rearranging their plushies, reorganizing the bookshelf, watering their plants, feeding their fish, and steaming the curtains, they’ll step back and dust off their hands, feeling accomplished as they look around at the newly pristine space. And of course, this won’t count as procrastination at all because they were being productive! I ought to get a little reward for getting so much work done and cleaning my entire room, they’ll think, and promptly pull out their phones to scroll on TikTok for a little bit. But only for fifteen minutes, they’ll promise themselves. 

Three hours later, they’ll look up at the clock, and notice that it’s already 12:37 a.m., way past the bedtime that they’ve set for themselves! Even though they’re well aware that for Stuy students the concept of sleeping eight hours a day is about as realistic as the DOE’s claim that they provide “high nutrition” school lunches, they’ve still been putting in the effort to sleep at least six and a half hours each day. They’ll hurriedly pack up their backpack and close their laptop, brush their teeth and wash their face, and flop into bed, leaving the assignment for tomorrow, no later. But it’s okay, they’ll reassure themselves. I have a few extra days to finish it; it’ll be easy.

The next day, after completing all of their higher-priority homework, they’ll sit down to complete the assignment, but they’ll realize that they have a math test tomorrow that they completely forgot about! Obviously, it would be much wiser to study for that instead of completing some meaningless homework assignment that only accounts for like a teeeeeny tiny part of their grade. They’ll slam their laptop shut and start frantically flipping through their math textbook instead, desperately trying to cram the entire unit in a few hours. After an unsuccessful study session that only made them more confused and made them question their entire existence, they’ll shove their materials deep into the abyss of their backpack and grumpily go to bed, everything else forgotten.

On day three, they’ll spend their time after school hanging out with their friends at McDonald’s. As they stand there waiting for their McNuggets to be ready, that tiny insistent voice in the back of their head will whisper to them, reminding them of the deadline slowly creeping up on them, but they’ll quickly forget about it as the person at the counter calls out their order number, leaving the assignment ignored and untouched like the spinach at the cafeteria lunch line.

On the last day, they’ll sit back down at their desk with a renewed vigor, determined to finish this once and for all, and open Google Docs with a fresh ferocity. Just as their fingers descend upon the keyboard, ready to produce a masterpiece, their phone will let out a ding! from across the room. Of course, the notification sound will instantly trigger their Gen Alpha instincts and compel them to sprint across the room to snatch it up, their brain begging for a dopamine hit. It’ll be their friend, asking about the club meeting next Tuesday. Of course, this student would never ignore their friends on purpose (unless their friends ask them for the answers to the homework that they themselves haven’t even started yet), so they’ll pick up their phone to respond to the question. And if that one text quickly devolves into a three-hour Brawl Stars gaming session, well, let the record show that it wasn’t really their fault; they were just being a reliable friend.

Finally, at 11:57 p.m., the student will turn their attention back to their screen, devoid of any text, the little cursor blinking back disapprovingly at them. They’ll open up a fresh new tab, go to Gmail, and click Compose. 

If you give a student an extension, four days later at 11:59 p.m., you’ll receive an email asking for another one.