Category Archives: school

The Runaway Mama’s Guide to Organizing Your Kid’s Schoolwork

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You started the school year with a folder, bin, or paper bag to hold all of the artwork, school projects, report cards, and other stuff your kids brought home. By winter break, you made an audition video for “Hoarders.” By spring, the local fire department declared your house a fire hazard.

It didn’t end there. On Monday of the last week of school, the paper dump began. Every notebook, folder, agenda, journal, workbook, worksheet, drawing, pencil, pen, crayon, marker, eraser, glue stick, and piece of paper your kid doodled on during the year made its trek home. By the last day of school, you. couldn’t. even.

Sound familiar? Don’t panic. Follow these simple steps and I promise you’ll finish organizing your kid’s schoolwork just in time to collect it all over again in the fall.

1. Deal with it. Don’t ignore it or hide it in the basement or a closet to get it out of the way. It will never go away, and you’ll wander aimlessly through life wondering why you never reached your full potential.

2. Get rid of all of it. (Optional) This is a risky move, but it’s also completely understandable. If you can sleep at night and you aren’t concerned about having trust issues with your adult children, go for it. Also, you’re my hero.

3. Get your head in the game. Find a quiet, comfortable spot to sit. Close your eyes. Take some deep, cleansing breaths. Think about the time when your own parents cleaned out their basement and hauled several boxes filled with crap precious childhood memories to your house. Think about the rage emotion this made you feel because What the hell am I supposed to do with all of this crap?! Now open your eyes and repeat after me: I WILL BREAK THE CYCLE.

4. Pick the weeds. Throw away homework. Fractions worksheets are not priceless. Dispose of everything inside your kid’s petri dish pencil case. Remnants of every stomach bug, lice breakout, and strep throat epidemic reside on each sticky, grimy pencil stump. If you can sterilize the actual pencil case, keep it for next year. If not, dump it.

Pro Tip: When in doubt, throw it out!

5. Tear through it – all of it – Marie Kondo-style. Does it bring you joy? Keep it. If not, toss it! The things you should keep will jump out of the pile at you. If nothing leaps right away, keep digging. This is the lightning round. Be brave. Be bold. Pour yourself a cocktail. Everything’s going to be okay.

Pro Tip: Do not do the lightning round with your kids. Get rid of the toss pile immediately or run the risk of never EVER getting past step #5.

6. Take a break. Put what’s left in a neat pile and walk away from it for a few weeks. Perspective is everything. Or, time heals all wounds. You need to rest and re-energize before you tackle the second half of the project. Besides, spending oodles of intimate, unstructured quality time with your kids will give you the motivation you need to ruthlessly play the keep or toss game all over again.

7. Repeat! With fresh eyes, cut your keep pile by at least a third. You can do hard things!

Pro Tip: Do a keep or toss lightning round for the previous year’s schoolwork. You’ll be amazed what still feels worth saving (or not) a year later.

8. Prepare to archive. Write your child’s name, grade, and school year on the bottom corner or back side of everything that makes the final cut. If you think you’re going to remember these details ten years, weeks, or minutes from now, ask yourself what you ate for breakfast this morning and/or the date of your last period. Trust me. You’ll forget.

9. Choose your storage system. Consider the long view. When it’s all said and done, you’ll have at least a dozen years of schoolwork on your hands. Whether you choose boxes, bins, or bags, keep them compact so you don’t need to rent a storage pod to hang on to book reports no one cares about. I chose an extra-large artwork portfolio with expandable pockets. It’s doesn’t have a large capacity, but that’s precisely why I picked it. It forces me to choose what to keep and toss judiciously.

Pro Tip: There will be extra stuff, like yearbooks, trophies, and framed photos, that need to be stored elsewhere. Get one plastic bin for each kid and label everything.

10. Put it away! Store everything in dry place for 20-25 years, at which point it will be your turn to enrage surprise your grown kids with a U-Haul filled with priceless hand print turkeys, awkward school pictures, perfect attendance certificates, and Venn diagrams from their childhood.

You did it! You finished organizing your kid’s schoolwork! Buy yourself a new pair of shoes, a bottle of wine, or some Snoopy bandages for all of those paper cuts to celebrate your awesomeness. Just be quick about it because it’s time for back-to-school shopping. Hurry before the glue sticks are sold out!

Raising kids is hard. I’m here to help. Read more in “The Runaway Mama’s Guide to…” series here.

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There’s No Such Thing as Being Overprotective When it Comes to Our Kids’ Spirit

My seven-year-old son brought home an art project from school. A poem called “The Rain” was handwritten on a raindrop-shaped piece of lined paper and glued to a piece of construction paper shaped like an umbrella. His handwriting was neat, and the sweetness of the poem nearly made me teary.

The Rain

Pitter patter, raindrops

Falling from the sky,

Here is my umbrella

To keep me safe and dry!

When the rain is over,

And the sun begins to glow,

Little flowers start to bud

And grow and grow and grow!

I turned the umbrella over and discovered a diabolical illustration of deadly rain, robot monsters, umbrella-holding victims, and overall obliteration and destruction.

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My son’s mind is fascinating. His imagination is fierce and intoxicating. His artwork, albeit (occasionally) dark and menacing, has palpable energy, movement, and strength. It’s wild, unpredictable, and honest. I admit I wonder sometimes where his extreme inspiration comes from, but never want to get in the way of his gift.

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In Kindergarten last year, my then five-year-old son colored a Thanksgiving booklet filled with pictures of Indians, pilgrims, and other images of the holiday. His teacher sent the booklet home with a note written on the front cover that said, “Please color realistic, people are not yellow.”

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I was shocked. When my son saw the note and asked, “What did I do wrong, Mommy?” I was enraged.

He did nothing wrong. He was a little kid with a box of crayons and an active imagination, and if he’d drawn the pilgrims blue with purple stripes, he would’ve been right then, too.

My son struggled in Kindergarten. He wasn’t ready for the workload. He wasn’t ready for the lack of free play or the monotony of the curriculum. He wasn’t ready to have his spirit crushed because of his crayon color choices.

I have a memory of being in my kitchen with my mom and uncle when I was a little girl. While they talked, I created a masterpiece of colorful combs in my mom’s hair. When I was finished and delighted by my originality, my uncle looked at my mom’s hair and then me and he said, “It’s a good thing you’re cute.”

This seemingly insignificant moment wasn’t the only time in my life that someone planted a seed of self-doubt – a healthy root of you’re not good or smart enough – inside of me, but the fact that I remember it so vividly is illuminating.

As disappointed as I was in my son’s Kindergarten teacher, I was even more upset at myself for not calling her out on planting a seed of insecurity in my son. I wish I had spoken up about her foolish criticism, but I learned an invaluable lesson. I vowed to be a better advocate for my children, I promised not to let anyone squeeze them into a box in which they didn’t fit, and I swore to protect and nourish their creativity.

Making art – or expressing our true selves in any capacity – is the epitome of bravery and vulnerability. Each time someone’s words or actions make my son feel wrong or embarrassed or ashamed or not good or smart or strong or realistic enough, his spirit will wilt a teeny bit. I don’t know which moments will take root and stay with him throughout his life, and I can’t prevent the rain from coming, but I can try my hardest to keep him safe and dry.

Thankfully, my son is thriving this year. His teacher has given him the time and space to explore his creativity, build self-confidence, and let his talent bloom unfiltered and uninhibited. In fact, considering all of the “great job!” stickers and “very creative!” notes I see on his schoolwork and art projects, it’s possible that she admires his beautiful (and wacky and funny and wild and bold and very unrealistic) mind as much as I do.

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Maybe.

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