Classroom of Life

This morning I held a Ticonderoga tri-write pencil in my hand for the first time.  It was true to its claim.  It really was naturally easy to hold due to its triangular contouring.  When I first saw the packaging during back-to-school shopping three weeks ago, I thought it was just the latest gimmick.

"Why would you need a different shaped pencil?" I asked my 5th grade daughter.

"Because, Mom, your hands get tired from writing and they hurt after a while."

I thought about the fact that I never use pencils anymore as an adult.  The last time I used pencils was in a college fine arts class that I took as an elective.  I enjoyed learning what grade graphite pencils to use for shading and creating depth in sketch drawings.  Several hours passed while I happily focused on my artwork.  How liberating it was developing new skills.  These days I prefer to use gel pens which glide weightlessly across the page.  My hand tires easily when attempting to write more than one page which is why I now prefer to type as I write on the computer keyboard.  The only writing I physically do now is the daily task or shopping list.    

We rounded the aisle and then my daughter made another request.

"Mom, can we buy me a special binder?"

"Why do you need a binder?  It's not even on your school supplies list."

My guess was that her brother, who is in high school and had a much longer shopping list, was in the market for a new binder, so she wanted one too.

"Because, Mom, I want to file my papers in there.  You know, so I can be organized."

It was unnecessary but she had a good argument.  Her school papers always piled up on the kitchen desk and they became my problem.

"Let's make a deal then.  If I buy you the binder, you will hole punch your papers as they come in the house and file them in your binder."

"Okay."

She spent the next ten minutes looking for just the right binder.  A blue sparkly one with green borders caught her eye.  It was four dollars more than the average binder but I figured anything that would help inspire her to keep order was a good thing, so I obliged.

"Mom?  Can we buy those plastic page protectors that you used for your writing portfolio?  I want to start my own art portfolio."

Ever since that day, whenever she has had free time, she has sketched and colored drawings and inserted them into her special binder.

I found her desire to be comfortable when writing and her need to organize her work inspiring.  She took pride in her work and wanted to feel good about it.  I thought for a moment about what I might want to do differently so I can also look forward to my tasks with more energy.

Last night I zipped through the halls of our beautiful, new, state-of-the-art Waterford High School.  I stopped in at each of my son's classrooms to meet his teachers and hear about their expectations for the year.  I felt a great sense of pride knowing that our tax dollars were well spent.  Everything about the evening, from the confident and encouraging words of our new Principal Mr. Hauser, to the design and layout of the building, to the newness of the furniture, to the impressiveness of the technology and resources available to our kids, inspired me.  I felt the sense of promise that our kids must also be experiencing as they go from class to class.  Even the teachers reflected an appreciation for their new tools and a positive outlook on the year.

It made me think back to my school years, when life was a fresh piece of sketching paper, waiting for me to draft some lines and fill in sections.  I used an eraser every now and then when I found myself veering in the wrong direction, but I forged on.

We are here to help guide our children as they become who they will discover they want to be.  But they are also here to remind us that we can keep using pencils and erasers too, even if we don't have to.  I guess that's why we buy ourselves the latest electronic gadgets.  There is still much to learn and new skills to develop.

I've been working on my first book for three years now.  I'm not done yet.  Once I finish the manuscript there will be even more work to do that I have never done before; editing, publishing and then finding a market for it.  The unknowns are scary but exciting too.  Maybe we are all works of art in progress and it's time to just draw some more lines.

First Day, Great Beginnings

There is something universally motivating about the first day of school.  New sneakers, new notebooks, a new season and new agendas.  As Waterford students donned their backpacks and boarded school buses this morning, many parents breathed a little easier.  We look forward to renewed structure and boundaries in our family's work, play and sleep schedules.
     "Are you enjoying your summer?" I said to people I encountered in recent weeks.
It was a great way to quickly exchange stories about our respective family's fun in the sun.  We discussed exciting destinations, unique camps, beach and park days.  We talked about how much our children have grown.  We also commiserated about the physical hazards of excessive sitting during road and air travel, overexposure to electronic screens and chronically abused bedtimes.  When the time came, how were the kids going to wake up at the sound of their alarm at the crack of dawn?
     And yet, as my own kids attested this morning, their inner clocks were far superior to the ones sitting on their bedroom desks.  Apparently, they woke up a couple of times before enough daylight even seeped through their curtains.  One eye opened slightly to peek at the clock, only to realize it wasn't time yet.  They anxiously awaited the official time to rise.  They welcomed school, if not for new academic challenges, perhaps for the chance to simply see their friends and classmates regularly again.
     Both my fourth grader and eighth grader agreed it was a good idea to prepare their school bags and lay out their clothes before bed.  This alleviated morning stress and facilitated their movement from bedroom to bathroom to kitchen.  Alarms were set.  My alarm sounded at 6 a.m. and I joined my eighth grader in a warm-up jog around the neighborhood.  It got our blood flowing.  We were energized for the day.  It helped him start training for his cross country season.  Little did he know that it was me who needed the company out there.  I needed to jump start my own new fitness regimen.  The cool, crisp air and golden daybreak greeted our every stride.
     While he enjoyed breakfast, I packed the kids' school lunches.  A few minutes later, thirty minutes ahead of her alarm clock's setting, his sister joined us in the kitchen, dressed for school.  It was the first time she had ever sat at the breakfast table before her brother boarded his earlier middle school bus.  She surprised us and herself too.
     Once he was off to school and she was finished with her meal, the dog realized he was in for a big treat.  He immediately sat by the front door to listen for the rumbling and roar of the bus.  He paced in anticipation as I grabbed some plastic bags and his leash.
     "Ah, the familiar sounds of a good morning," his canine brain must have recalled.   
     My dog must have revelled in the sound of neighborhood kids approaching the edge of their driveways and barked at the screech of the halting big yellow monster.  Once she boarded and the noise of the bus faded down the road, he pulled me into the street and pranced up the hill.  It was his time now.  It had not been as predictable all summer as the family schedule became uber flexible.
     Now he could look forward to his one mile a day walk with me.  And after a summer sabbatical from writing, I can once again count on the flow of story ideas that our morning walks will bring.