Searching for School Supplies (Throwback Thursday)

  

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 From the looks of my email inbox, 'tis the season for back-to-school sales. If you have official school supply lists to adhere to, style-specific shopping can be a challenge, but it's still possible to do some adapting so your kids can find tools that work for them. Here are a few ideas to get you started.

Have you ever watched a left-handed person try to take notes in a traditional spiral notebook? It's almost painful. The angle is wrong, the spiral's in the wrong place, and even the neatest handwriting approaches illegibility as fatigue and frustration take over.

That's how it feels to be a non-traditional organizer using traditional school supplies. While everyone around you slides papers neatly onto binder rings or into the pockets of folders, you just never manage to make things work as neatly and effortlessly.

So...why buy those supplies?

If you've got a kiddo (or two) at your house whose notebooks and folders look like they've been through a natural disaster somewhere between school and home, there are things you can do to help them adapt their supplies to their styles. 

Ways to adapt a binder:

• Buy a portable three-hole punch to put in the front of the notebook.
• Load the binder with page protectors so unpunched papers make it into the notebook. Or, if that's not gonna happen with your cram and jammer or drop and run organizer, try folder pockets (hole-punched inserts that look like a pocket folder opened up and folded back) or a three-ring acetate envelope with a snap or Velcro fastener.

  

  When I taught Organizing by STYLE
  to an elementary school audience,
  I found that clamp binders were a
  huge hit with fifth grade boys.
  Photo: staples.com

• Add a clip to the front of the binder so the day's papers get clipped inside the cover and can be added to the right section of the notebook at home.
• Ditch the three-ring binder for one with a spring-loaded clamp. Kids who don't take the time to put stuff into the rings sometimes enjoy putting papers away when they have an excuse to play with the clamp.
• Replace the binder with an accordion folder. Choose one that's divided into sections, or one with just one wide, yawning opening, depending on your child's style.

What to use instead of a standard-issue, paper pocket folder:

• A file folder. Like pocket folders, these come in a variety of colors, and can be color-coded by subject. If the papers aren't going to go in the pockets anyway, why create an unnecessary battle?
• Transparent folders that allow kids to personalize them (photos show through the opening) or see what's inside. These also come in a variety of colors, with and without pockets.
• A folder that has top and side access and a tab closure at the top. Multi-colored (again). Never underestimate the value of being able to play with an organizational tool. The more fun it is to put something away, the more likely it is it'll get there.
• Clear acetate envelopes with string-tie and button closures. Sold at office supply stores, these often come in multi-packs that make them less expensive per item. 

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You may wonder if it's worth it to do all this adapting. Don't kids need to learn how to use a binder and get in the habit of putting papers in the correct side of a pocket folder? 

Not necessarily. Kids do need to learn how to organize themselves, but saying that they have to use tools that don't work for them doesn't accomplish that. Learning to organize ourselves means finding tools and methods that work for us and that let us put our hands on what we need when we need it without wasting precious time re-thinking someone else's filing system. Using the wrong (for them) methods and tools only convinces kids (and grown-ups) that organizing is something some people can do and others can't, a lesson they're likely to carry with them long after those pocket folders have landed in the trash can. Teaching kids to develop systems that work for them not only helps them learn how to get organized; it also teaches them problem-solving skills and reinforces the notion that creativity can be exercised in everyday situations.

And those are some formidable skills.

Auspicious August

 As I write this from my perch on a porch at the beach, August is less than a week away, and I'm not ready to flip that calendar page. By the time you read this, it will already be August, and I'm sure I still won't be ready to engage in that seemingly simple action.

Why is it hard to turn a calendar page? Well, physically, it isn't. But, for me, August marks the end of summer and the return to a school mindset. Though classes won't start until closer to the end of the month, to me, turning the calendar page to August signals that it's time to leave leisure behind and begin preparations for the semester that lies ahead.

I follow enough teachers on social media to know I'm not alone. And, it's not just the teachers who are setting up for success. When it comes to getting organized, the back-to-school season is probably second only to January and its New Year's resolutions. Parents chase down sales and school supply lists, trying to find the right tools at the right price and hoping against hope that this is the year the organizing magic materializes for their kiddos who struggle to put the right paper in the right (or left) pocket of the folder. 

I've written before about organizing with kids, but that's not where I want to go with this post. Instead of talking about organizing stuff, I want to talk about organizing life.

I'm not ready for August because I'm not ready to leave the rest, relaxation, and freedom of summer behind. Like the Grinch, I want to stop the school year from coming (or a part of me does, anyway) but, like that green meanie, I can't make that happen. What I can do, though, is carry over a little bit of one season into the next.

For me, one of the best parts of summer is the luxury of a meandering start to the day: time spent journaling and reflecting. In the absence of time constraints, this process flows into reading, researching, writing, playing games on my iPad, and essentially doing a bunch of stuff I don't really have time to do on a work morning. The thought of switching gears away from all of this and into structured mornings is a large part of what makes me crabby when July turns to August.

As I thought about it, though, I realized that, instead of getting crabby about having to give all of that up, I can flip the question.

What part of my morning routine can I keep? How can I carry a little summer sunshine forward into a new semester? And, is there any day of the week when I can actually have it all?

Huh. What a concept.

And, as it turns out, one that isn't so hard to put into action. The time I spend on my journal can easily be incorporated into work mornings; I've done it before. The extended time can certainly become a part of my weekend mornings and, some days, I can probably squeeze in a little of the reading before work. And, if I can't, I can set it aside to read after work. Just because I do it all in one sitting in the summer, that doesn't mean I have to do it the same way in the fall.

I hear you morning people suggesting that I simply get up earlier. Ha. Not. Gonna. Happen. I mean, it is gonna happen (I have to get up earlier on work days), but getting up early enough to enjoy my routine all in one piece? For this night owl, that would suck all the joy out of that lovely morning routine. Breaking it into pieces and enjoying every last bite is much more my style.

You, on the other hand, might feel differently. The swath of summer sunshine you want to protect might be worth earlier mornings, later evenings, or carving out a little segment of time during some other part of the day.

What is your most treasured part of summer? How can you carry it with you into the new season ahead? Or, is it time to swap it out for something that brings you joy in the new season we're entering? 

Our routines and preferences didn't materialize over night. We crafted them over time, through changes in life and changes in seasons. Sometimes, we need to shake up the routine.

Other times, we need to intentionally carry it forward.

It's Not Procrastination. It's a Metaphor.

Saydung89 via Pixabay

  Every once in a while, I write a post that can go either here or over at Porch Swing Chronicles. I posted this one there last week, and thought I'd share it here as well.

 When it comes to packing, I'm a procrastinator. Since my reluctance to actually put things into suitcases sometimes works to my advantage, I've shrugged it off as a workable, if less than ideal, state of affairs. It was only recently, when a sense of frustration descended on me as I was packing for vacation twelve hours before our departure (as usual), that I realized it's not a packing problem at all.

It's an abundance problem. 

Vacation creates a sense of possibility. Vacation means breaking from routine, going somewhere new (or old if you, like me, have a much-loved vacation spot to which you regularly return), and letting go of daily obligations. All of these inspire a feeling of abundance -- abundance of time and of opportunity. Vacations open doors. Packing closes them before we even get to the threshold.

At home, I can choose to wear anything in my closet on any given day. I can read any book on my shelves, or even order a new one if the ones I own don't inspire me. I can decide to play the piano I've ignored for months, pick up an old hobby that I stashed away in a closet, or change my mind and clean out that closet if I'm so inclined.

How do I narrow down all the options, especially if I'm headed for a week away where, by definition, I can do whatever I want to do?

What will I want to do tomorrow, the next day, five days from now? And what will I need to wear? How can I possibly prepare adequately for any of this?

Shut the suitcase, folks, and put it back in the closet. This is just too hard.

The combination of narrowing the possibilities to a serviceable number while still keeping my options open (and fitting it all into appropriately sized containers) is more than my limited cognitive resources can manage. 

In the end, it's good, old-fashioned cognitive dissonance. Vacation creates a mindset that anything is possible; packing for vacation means foreclosing on those possibilities, or risking being unprepared and not taking full advantage of a window of opportunity that opens much too infrequently.

So, there you have it. It's not just procrastination. It's also a metaphor for trying to cram as much stuff as possible into a finite amount of space and time. 

Procrastination is sneaky that way. It looks like one thing on the surface when really, it's about much more. 

In the end, no matter how I try to make sense of it, trying to corral abundance into the smallest number of containers possible is an impossible task, as is trying to predict every situation for which I need to prepare (that's also a Mom thing, but that's an entirely different post). And I usually figure all of this out.

About twelve hours before we have to leave.

Love Me, Love My Styles

 True Confession #48: Sometimes, it's hard to accept our styles. 

Although the heart of organizing by style is embracing our default styles and building from there, let's face it: sometimes, it's hard to let go of what we think we should be doing. When we come up against an organizing challenge and someone suggests a tried-and-true tool like a binder or a file cabinet, we might be comfortable saying they don't work for us, but still a bit sensitive to the eye-roll or argument that may follow. 

I mean, those tools work for everyone, right?

Only they don't. And finding what does can be a challenge. It can require reconfigurations that we love but others don't understand. (Just ask my husband what he thinks of my open-top files in the family room). It can reinforce the idea that, for us, organizing hasn't always been second-nature.

Only it can be. 

I've been organizing by style for sixteen years and I don't miss filing cabinets at all. In fact, I've even been known to invite the occasional pretty, visually appealing binder back into my office, provided it follows my rules. And, while I still revert to piling when things get busy or I'm in the middle of an organizing project, it's a temporary stopgap measure, not an organizational system. Most of all, I protect clear space now with a ferocity I didn't know I had when it came to organization, and I'm immune to the eyeballs of my audience when I do so.

Never come between a Jersey girl and her clear space.

I know I've said it hundreds of times before, but organizing is a process. But, the process of accepting ourselves as we are -- whether it comes to organizing or anything else -- isn't always easy or fast. So, let me ask you this: is organizing by style working for you? 

If it is, keep doing what you're doing because it only gets easier with practice.

And, while you're at it, tell that inner voice that's making it hard for you to accept your styles (Your parents? Your sixth grade teacher? That girl in your math class who always had everything together and got straight As?) that you've got this. 

The more you tell them, and the better you get at this, the more you'll believe it, and the better you'll get at strengthening perhaps the most important organizing tool of all. 

Self-confidence.

You've got this.

Conferring with the Packing Experts

  When it comes to organizing, there are some ideas that are unique, but there's also a lot of advice that's consistent no matter whose book or blog post you're reading. Last week, I shared a True Confessions post about my packing style and so this week, I thought it would be interesting to see how it stacks up against advice from a travel pro.

The back page of the Summer 2023 issue of Explore Your AAA magazine featured an article entitled "Packing Tips for Any Trip." As I read it, I was excited to find that, over time, I've learned to do most of the things in the article, along with a couple of good tips to remember and/or consider.

Here's the rundown, with my comments. 

Give yourself plenty of time to pack. This tip inspired me to write "define 'pack'" in the margin. Like me, the article defines packing rather loosely, including things like making lists and dropping items into an empty suitcase (or, in my keep-it-simple "drop and run" case, a laundry basket). To that I'd add the suggestion of being as consistent as possible in where you jot things down. One master list (or an app, as the article suggests) is much more useful than a dozen random pieces of paper.

Create a travel checklist that details what you'll wear each day. I don't do this because A) I'm too lazy B) I like spontaneity and C) what if the weather changes? (But mostly A). I do, however, try to pack tops that go with multiple bottoms to increase flexibility and because spills happen. At least to me.

Pack an extra phone charger and a portable power bank. Yes! And somehow I only remember this about half the time. I need to add a note about this to my pre-packed bag which contains...

Travel sizes of grooming items. I have a makeup bag exclusively for travel which I keep pre-packed. There's also a packing checklist stored in the bin that houses that bag. For some reason (stubbornness?) I choose to use that list even less often than I remember to pack the portable power bank. (I always bring charging cords).

Stash an empty water bottle in your carry-on that you can fill at any water fountain. Granted, this idea was more appealing pre-COVID, but any time I can avoid paying premium prices for plastic water bottles, it's a win.

Put shoes in thin plastic bags. One of my favorite travel hacks. In addition, any time sheets come in one of those handy drawstring bags, I save them to use for this precise purpose. And, the other day, my new shoes came in their own individual bags (one per shoe, inside the box!). Definitely saving those! As with the water bottle, these hacks are good for the environment, too. I can wash and reuse those bags rather than having to replace the plastic ones which inevitably tear.

Invest in a set of packing cubes. Best packing hack ever! I just did this last year and it has revolutionized my packing.

Tuck a fabric softener sheet into your suitcase. I do this when I store the suitcase rather than when I travel. Either way, a nice-smelling suitcase makes travel nicer, too.

Stow necessities in your carry-on. For me, this even includes putting my medications in my purse instead of a suitcase, even for car trips. I don't want to have to rummage through suitcases to find my medications if we get delayed somewhere or if someone has an upset stomach or a headache.

The online version of the article has two additional tips: preparing for bad weather and tucking in some scented soaps to make a connection between home and your destination.  

No matter where you're going, it's always nice to be able to find what you want in short order, whether during the trip, or upon arrival. A little bit of planning helps to ensure that we can spend as much time as possible enjoying ourselves because we need to spend only a little bit of time accessing what we need.

Bon voyage!

Planning to Pack

 True Confession #43: I am a last minute packer.

It makes no difference how much lead time I have. It makes little difference how busy I am (although that is a factor). When it comes to packing, I am always putting things together the night before we leave.

And the day of departure.

International trips notwithstanding, my clothes don't go in my suitcase until the last possible minute. I start mental preparations ahead of time, and do lots of laundry basket packing (clean clothes come upstairs and the ones I'm thinking of taking along go into a laundry basket in my bedroom) but rarely do things make it into a suitcase sooner than the night before.

Procrastination is definitely a factor, as is experience, but the most important factor that lets me get away with this is the fact that I have a process.

• Pre-Pack. With the exception of make-up and medicine, all of my toiletries are always packed. And long before I put anything in a suitcase, I'm making lists and tossing odds and ends into bags (and that laundry basket) so I don't forget to pack them.
• Pack as I go/stash it when I think of it. I always pack make-up and medicine the day I leave, immediately after I use it. That way, I'm less likely to forget something I need. At times  (like now) when I'm busy, I pull contenders for the suitcase out as I get dressed. One sweater to put on, another to pack. 
• Develop a routine. For me, it's laying everything out on a flat surface where I can see it, which makes it much easier for me to figure out what I have and what's missing. (I also make lists). To my husband, my plan looks like chaos, but it works for me, so I stand by it. Likewise, your plan doesn't have to make sense to anybody else; it just has to work for you.

I certainly don't recommend waiting until the last minute to get everything together. But, if you find yourself in that situation, as I so often do, getting it together successfully is possible, especially if you have a process.

More on packing next week as I compare my packing style to AAA recommendations.

Making Space

   A few weeks ago, over on the Porch Swing Chronicles, I wrote about the mixed emotions I had as I embarked on the journey of getting a new car. I thought that post would be the end of it. I'd pour my feelings out onto the page, contemplate the right name for my new vehicle (the only one I've ever actually considered naming), and move on to other posts. 

But a funny thing happened that week, a moment in time that opened the door to a deeper understanding of the emotions behind this whole process. I was running some errands, dropping things off here and there. I’d parked my car out in front of my friend's house and, as I was heading up the driveway to get into my car and drive home, I saw the new car and thought, "That's my car."

That's my car?

Pretty and shiny, not yet hard-driven or well-loved.

But mine. The realization made me smile, and it made me think. 

Driving my Scion past its prime and getting every penny out of the car payments I'd made on my first-ever new car had been a point of pride. It was a choice that said I wasn't the kind of person who needed to have a new car every five years. I was practical, not frivolous; conservative, not wasteful. And, more important, driving my beloved Scion for as long as possible was a thing I could do to make another thing -- a much less logical thing -- happen. 

I could retire from my school counseling job. Although I didn't realize it until just last week, my Scion, like my Celica, was a declaration of independence car.

Apparently I have a pattern. 

I knew that the Scion had seen me through a lot. That I'd driven it throughout most of my daughter's life. That it had been my first ever new car. But it was only when I realized that I'd driven it through the transition from my old life to my new one -- much like my Celica -- and kept driving it after that that I began to understand why I'd been so emotional about giving it up.

Though retiring from my job in public education was bittersweet, it was the right thing to do on so many levels. But the decision was decidedly not practical. It brought emotional freedom, but carried a financial cost, one I was determined would not impact my family negatively in any significant way. I scaled back a lot of wishes, dreams, and purchases but that was my thing, not theirs. I was determined that getting the thing I wanted wouldn't come at a cost to anyone but me.

Let me be clear. This was not martyrdom. It was full out Jersey girl determination. My car was not only security (No car payment! One less thing to worry about!) but, quite literally, the vehicle that got me from my first career to my interim year to my second career.

And I became very attached.

Which explains a lot about the roller coaster of emotions I've been on for the past few weeks -- about a car, for heaven's sake! I spent a lot of time chiding myself for being so attached to an object. For crying over losing a thing. But, I wasn't just trading in a thing. I was trading in something that had gotten me from one point in my life to another, both literally and figuratively. 

Although “Let it go” is an integral part of getting organized, it’s easier to let go of some things than others. When we feel an emotional attachment to something, maybe that’s telling us something - something that we have to acknowledge before we can truly make the decision to keep it or let it go.

Hanging onto things that make us smile or even things that make us a little sad because they represent something that we no longer have doesn’t mean that we are materialistic or selfish. There’s no need to chide ourselves for feeling moved by an object. If we’re transferring all of our affection to an object, that could be concerning but if, as is often the case, that object is a trigger for something deeper, maybe it’s not such a bad idea to hang onto it a little longer.

There’s a limit of course. Hanging on to a car versus hanging onto a drawing that our twenty-something made in preschool are two completely different things. We need to acknowledge what we have space for.  But we also need to consider not only what we have space for in our homes, but in our hearts as well.

It makes me sad to think about someone else driving my Scion but it’s time to shift my thinking. Maybe, just maybe, mahatma car will be someone else's declaration of independence car. Maybe, after all she saw me through, it was time to pass her along to someone who needs her more than I do.

I have no doubt she's up to the task.