Category Archives: Parenting Stuff

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Today’s Kids Are an Amazing Generation

Thomas and I allowed our kids to have phones with data plans at the age of 14. I’ve always thought this is a reasonable age, but students seem to be getting younger and younger when they receive their first smartphone, smartwatch, Roblox account—you name it. They think that I’m an old curmudgeon when I tell them about the 14-year-old rule. I know at least one kid who had her first smartphone at the age of four.

The longer I’ve taught, the more children I’ve seen in occupational therapy because they learned how to swipe a screen well before they ever gripped a crayon. Or if they’re not actually touching the screens, they’re glued to them, unblinking, inundated by fast-moving images. Their brains have been rewired to receive immediate gratification, so forget giving more than one simple direction at a time—you’ve lost them.

The Amazing Generation by Jonathan Haidt and Catherine Price addresses the risk of allowing children access to smart devices and social media. Written for members of Generation Alpha who are aged 9 to 12, I decided to check it out, since many of my students are in this age range, and I’m always looking for new book recs for parents.

The great thing about The Amazing Generation is that the students themselves can—and should!—read it. The format includes lots of fun graphics in the non-fiction sections, but there’s also a graphic novel that weaves throughout, telling the story of six kids (based on real kids), three of whom don’t have smartphones, and three who are absolutely addicted to them. Inspired by what I read, I have changed some of my own habits, including setting time limits for myself on certain apps to keep me from wasting hours on games and falling down time-sucking social media rabbit holes—and guess what? I’ve read more, exercised more, and spent more time doing real things in the few months since I set those limits.

Do you or your kids need a change? Keep reading for some insights from The Amazing Generation.

The Rebel Code

The Amazing Generation refers to kids rebels who have decided to use technology only as a useful tool or to abstain from it altogether as rebels. Their two-part code is to 1) “Use technology as a tool—don’t let technology use you” and 2) and to “Fill your life with real friendship, freedom, and fun” (p. 5).

The book is full of quotes from preteens to young adults in their mid-twenties who were all burned by technology and became rebels the hard way—by being consumed by tech first and discovering they didn’t like it. One such teenager, when asked what advice she would give her younger self, said she never would have downloaded TikTok, Instagram, or Snapchat. She said young kids are “entranced by their phones and social media, but a lot of them are not enjoying it and they wish they weren’t on it” (p. 9). Can you think of anyone who persistently does something he or she actually doesn’t want to do? That sounds suspiciously like an addiction to me.

The Tech Wizards’ Nefarious Scheme

All the apps that kids are attracted to are making adults rich by making them (the kids) dependent on and addicted to them. Sean Parker, the first president of Facebook, said this: “When Facebook was getting going, I had these people who came up to me and they would say, ‘I’m not on social media… I value my real-life interactions, I value the moment, I value presence, I value intimacy.’ And I would say ‘We’ll get you eventually’” (p. 33). So if you dare to actually live your life and be a rebel, the billionaires who run these companies—what Haidt and Price call “Tech Wizards”—are out to get you.

If you’ve ever done an internet search on something like a new blender, and suddenly Ninja ads are showing up in every social media app you open, this is the Tech Wizards spying on you and trying to get you to spend money—after all, they know what you like because you’ve told them with your search history. Maybe you get a nice new blender that you needed anyway, but they’re also making money off of you. It’s kind of… creepy.

Even when apps are “free,” the cost is the user’s time and attention. While wasted money can sometimes be refunded, once time and attention are used, they are gone. Time spent on an app could be much better spent doing something in real life instead of wasted on something that will soon be forgotten.

It might surprise you to hear that Netflix’s top competitor isn’t another streaming company—it’s our sleep. Binge-watching shows hurts everyone, but it’s especially harmful for teens, whose bodies not only rest and recharge but grow during the eight-to-ten (or more) hours that they sleep every night. Even for those who don’t get caught up in binge-watching, responsible use of technology should include limited (or no) use during the hour before bedtime because the blue light that screens give off suppresses the body’s ability to release melatonin, which is a chemical that helps us sleep. Both of my kids keep their phones charging in the living room at night. Thomas and I keep our phones close, mostly for emergencies, but I use Do Not Disturb between 10:00 p.m. and 6:00 a.m., so unless you’re on my list of emergency contacts, I won’t know you called or texted until the next morning.

“Persuasive design” is a fancy way of tech companies saying “brain hacking,” and they employ people whose job it is to figure out better ways to brain hack their users (p. 85). As the authors point out, hackers get computer programs to do things they weren’t supposed to do, so when our brains are hacked, we do things we’re not supposed to do—like scroll on social media for hours that we’ll never get back.

Time spent doing the same thing over and over again rewires the brain, and sometimes this can be good, such as practicing a musical instrument or a sport. But when this happens with technology, we’re, in essence, being programmed by tech, and this is not a good thing. For preteens and teenagers, their brains are being rewired or programmed to “[help” the tech wizards” (p. 108). When people are consuming media online, even if it’s labeled as something to “inspire creativity” (TikTok), this isn’t the case (p. 113). Creativity is truly inspired when the brain is allowed the “space and time to wander” (p. 113). I’ve always heard that boredom breeds creativity, and kids are allowed to be bored less and less these days—it’s all about stimulating them as much as possible so they’ll quit whining and leave us alone. That’s a personal observation, but if you think I’m exaggerating, do some people watching. The next time you hear a whiny toddler or child when you’re out and about, see how quickly a parent pulls out a phone or tablet, and said toddler/child becomes quiet, mesmerized, almost catatonic.

Adults know (or should know) that not everything we encounter online is true; a lot of it is embellished to put people in the best (or worst) light. Kids, however, are naïve and believe what they read. They also don’t have the maturity to understand when people are trying to use them, exaggerating, or outright lying. Here’s one of my favorite quotes, from Calla, age 22: “If you wait to get social media or a smartphone, you can decide who you are without other people telling you who you should be” (p. 116).

Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you’ve likely heard about all the trouble that Roblox has gotten itself into. Marketed toward kids as a world-building game, all kind of bullies and predators use this platform to exploit, extort, and sell drugs to underage users who just want to play. I have six- and seven-year-old students who play Roblox, and if no one is monitoring them, they could be talking to people who they think are other kids but are actually creepy groomers in disguise—because you can become anyone on the internet, can’t you? Roblox knows this, but “limiting user’s engagement [is] hurting our metrics,” one of their employees said (p. 122). We have to be vigilant about our usage when these companies only want to use us to make themselves wealthier. Of course, the addictive side of technology should bother us, but the safety of our children should be even more of a priority.

The authors mince no words when they say, “the tech wizards don’t care about you as a person. They think of you as a product” (p. 128). This means that tech companies need their users to spend less time in the real world and more time using their apps and racking up ad revenue, which is how they make their money. One way to fight back is to invest in basic phones instead of smartphones. Many of these even look like smartphones, but they have limited access to the internet. Some only allow for phone calls or texting, while others have apps that allow for music or maps, but they’re limited when it comes to social media, streaming, and games. And the big bonus for parents: they’re a lot cheaper. If your kids are worried about optics (and teenagers are generally worried about how they look), these phones appear just like their friends’ smartphones but won’t get them in trouble like those others.

Using Technology as a Tool—Instead of Being Used by Tech

Haidt and Price created a three-question survey to help readers decide whether tech is being helpful or harmful:

First, is technology a helpful tool? Think foreign language apps or online documentaries. Those uses are fine, but steer clear of AI that does work for you, like writing an essay. We should be doing the work ourselves “precisely because [it’s] hard. That’s how [we] learn and grow” (p. 160). Not to mention that AI doesn’t always get it right. My elder son discovered this when he tried to use AI help to him find good Shakespeare quotes; he thought it would be quicker than just flipping through the actual text. The problem is that when we put the AI side-by-side with MacBeth, we found that the AI’s quotes and the characters to whom they were attributed were more often than not incorrect.

Second, is technology creating real friendship, freedom, or fun? Watching a movie in real life with a friend makes memories. Sitting around and scrolling through TikTok does not. Something that puzzles me is the concept of AI “friends.” Are you moping around in your bedroom, lonely? AI’s got you! I even saw something in the news about a woman who wanted to marry her AI friend. This is just pathetic and sad. Go out, meet people, have real conversations and real relationships.

Third, is a particular technology addictive? If you answered “yes,” then it’s definitely harmful. Think “free” apps with lots of ads. Every time you click on an ad or download a new app that you discovered through an ad, you’re playing into the tech wizards’ hands. One particular game developer admits that “game addiction was by design” (p. 166). Believe it or not, the apps you have to pay for “are less likely to be designed to be addictive” (p. 161). In addition to opting for ad-free apps, Haidt and Price recommend playing on a computer or gaming console, which can’t be carried around everywhere (especially to bed).

Next time you scroll through social media, pay attention to how many people share something that they hope will persuade you to their way of thinking, whether it’s a video or a photo of a celebrity or politician with a quote attributed to that person. Just because it sounds legit doesn’t mean that it is, and kids aren’t the only ones who fall prey to this type of media. People who desperately want others to agree with them will post anything, and unfortunately, “no one is checking to make sure that the things people [post is] true” (p. 168). This can be damaging when people start spreading false information, assuming it’s true, and speaking of false information, how about online profiles? How many people are hiding behind a fake persona? Again, children aren’t the only ones who fall prey to these creeps, but they’re the most vulnerable. We not only have to educate them so that they don’t get taken in by online impostors, but we should be vigilant about protecting them from websites and apps that give predators access to them to begin with.

Living in Discover Mode

What’s more satisfying, viewing photos someone else took from the top of a mountain or climbing that mountain yourself and seeing the view with your own eyes? I hope it’s obvious that the latter is preferrable, and that’s what the authors refer to as “discover” mode—actually going out and finding out for yourself. The antithesis of this is “defend” mode, and this happens when people are afraid to act because someone has a phone out and could potentially make and post an embarrassing video of them. My 14-year-old (who has not read The Amazing Generation) mentioned the latter to me recently—a lot of people are afraid of doing things because everyone wants to post the next viral video, especially if it embarrasses someone else.

Some kids choose to take advantage of the “rebel reset” when they feel they’re becoming slaves to their devices (p. 174). What, exactly, is a rebel reset? It’s taking a full break for three weeks. This could vary per person. It might not mean getting rid of the smartphone altogether (although it could), but it could mean deleting all social media apps and games, at least for that three-week period. And because their brains might be addicted, this also includes withdrawal. It might be a very unpleasant three weeks, but by the end of them, the rebel should feel much better—and have some new, real life experiences that might not have happened, otherwise.

The authors provide an extensive list of things to do in real life (pp. 210-211), and these, of course, include spending time with real friends. While many people with a multitude of social media followers believe that they have numerous friends, The Amazing Generation points out that followers and friends are not one and the same. Followers may like your posts and say all the right things, but a real friend is shows up and helps you move or brings you soup when you’re sick or does any number of things that followers simply won’t (or can’t) do. And don’t even get me started on chatbots—they are not real, so they can’t do any of these things!

Choosing to Be a Rebel

Although it might seem like kids are safe when they’re in the house, “it’s usually safer to do stuff outside the house than be alone in your room chatting with strangers on social media or in a video game” (p. 206). Sadly, many of today’s kids have no idea how to make friends in real life—it’s uncomfortable—but one suggestion I love is to always carry a book or sketchbook or journal because it’s a signal to other rebels that you don’t have to be on your phone to have fun. I have always carried a book everywhere, but one place where this is (admittedly) odd is at a theme park—but odd or not, I still carry one. My family and I recently went to Disney World, and three of the four of us carried our books and read them when waiting in long lines. While reading in one such queue, I heard someone behind me say, “I love your family.” She was an English teacher, and she told me that reading is her passion. I whole-heartedly agreed and told her my passion is teaching kids with learning disabilities how to read. Maybe a book is larger and more inconvenient to carry than a phone, but if we’re carrying backpacks for water bottles, sunscreen, and ponchos anyway, what’s a book or two?

Since limiting my time on Facebook a few months ago, I’ve noticed that I’m a lot choosier about what—and when—I post. For our last big vacation, instead of trying to share a bunch of updates, I just shared an album of photos at the end, and that allowed me to enjoy the time with my family while we were making memories (like the one below), and when I was sitting at the airport with nothing else to do, I created the album. This is what the authors call living life instead of performing it. I’ve seen other people performing their lives, and the most heartbreaking are the moms with small children, taking a few Instagram-worthy photos with their kids—looking cute at the pool in their matching swimsuits—and then packing up and leaving as soon as the photoshoot is done. How frustrating is that for the poor kids who just want to swim and couldn’t care less about having their picture taken? And you know all their friends think they had a great time. I love it when people say they had so much fun that they forgot to take many photos. I love to document things through photos, but if I had to choose, I’d rather have the memories.

Yellowstone Grand Canyon

These are just a few of the highlights I wanted to share from Haidt and Price’s The Amazing Generation. But, in the immortal words of LeVar Burton—don’t take my word for it—please check out a copy of this book for yourself.

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Quit Raising Strivers

Think about being a 21st century teenager, about the dual pressures of excelling in school because college and career are looming and having a diverse extracurricular portfolio because this could make or break the chances of making it into said colleges and careers. Do you know many young people who are thriving through such challenges, or do they all seem to be stressed out? My children’s generation is the “‘running on empty’ generation,” the generation that educational psychologist Michele Borba, Ed.D. says is “less happy and more stressed, lonely, depressed, and suicidal when compared with any previous generation” (Thrivers, p. 2). I wish this were all just theoretical for me, but unfortunately, it’s personal.

My elder son wasn’t handling the stresses of life well, and I know I was a big part of the problem. I live with anxiety; it’s a part of who I’ve always been. This is me:

Thanks to a supportive network (parents, husband, friends, etc.), I’ve made it to 40, maybe not with flying colors, but all in one piece. Does that mean that I’m comfortable living with high anxiety? I guess as comfortable as you would be if you had to wear shoes that are too small every day. But I’ve been able to cope. So it’s hard to get outside of myself and objectively ask if I would expect someone else to live how I live. For Peter, I don’t know if it was because puberty and a global pandemic hit at the same time or if it would have happened anyway, but halfway through the 8th grade, he was so overwhelmed that he couldn’t see the point of living anymore. My sweet, happy, well-adjusted boy…. wasn’t anymore.

In her book Thrivers, Borba is concerned with Peter’s generation, teenagers who are striving instead of thriving. But what’s wrong with striving? Don’t we admire those who strive and strive and finally manage to do something great? I’m thinking of the young Olympians who were their class’s valedictorian and spent every weekend volunteering at a homeless shelter. We hear about these people who seem like they can do everything—and everything incredibly well—and feel like, What have I done with my life? But are those people really fulfilled? Some might be; some might have the ability to do all that without breaking a sweat, but I would wager that most more closely resemble my anxiety graphic. Like Peter, many kids his age strive to achieve, to accomplish, sometimes just to finish a simple task… and striving is a lot like treading water in the hope of staying afloat long enough for the life raft to arrive. Last year, my fellow faculty members and I read Thrivers for our summer reading, and it was like a blow to the chest. I highlighted half the book, writing Peter’s name in every time I read a case study that sounded like him. And I’m not even close to being the only parent in this boat—it’s more like a fleet of aircraft carriers. As one devastated mom said of her daughter, “I didn’t realize how sad and overwhelmed she felt… I thought I’d given her everything she needed to be happy and successful, but I was so wrong. I missed helping her enjoy herself” (Borba, p. 3).

After reading the book, I had a very open conversation with Peter, and it broke my heart to hear him say, “I’m a striver, Mom.” With us backing him up one hundred percent, he decided not to pursue high school sports. This was after taking him for his sports physical, filling out all the appropriate forms, and making him take a number of exhaustive online tests to make him eligible to participate. Peter had played baseball since kindergarten and school sports since the 5th grade: basketball, flag football, and track and field. It just seemed natural that he would continue into high school. I was sad but supported his choice to cut back on after-school obligations. And he still played baseball for our local ballpark, which allowed him to play sports just for the fun of it. But when his academic schedule was still too much this spring, he told me that the only way he could handle his schedule was to quit baseball, too. I hate that he had to make that decision, but I’m proud of him for recognizing that, for the sake of his mental health, he had to drop something in order to balance his academics and the extracurricular activity that brings him the most joy: music.

Does this mean that Peter will always only ever do homework and play an instrument? Of course not. A friend and co-worker shared a podcast a few months ago that gave me new perspective on this issue. In her episode “How to Discover What Season You Are In,” Christy Wright encourages her listeners to give themselves grace throughout their different seasons in life. First, she points out that people of her (my) generation didn’t suffer from FOMO (fear of missing out) like our kids do because there was no social media; by the time we realized we were missing out on something, it was already over. Did kids our age still overdo it? Of course they did (waving my hand in the air), but it’s nothing like the widespread striving pandemic that’s catching with kids as young as five nowadays (Borba, p. 12).

The main point of Wright’s podcast is that we all go through seasons, and it’s unreasonable for us to expect the same results from ourselves in each season of life. What my own teen is going through right now is a season that is tough academically. There will be another season for him (as soon as final exams are over!) when he will enjoy more freedoms and have more choice about what he does with his time. This applies to everyone, not just teens. My own season in life doesn’t—and shouldn’t—look like the season when I was chasing toddlers. Right now, I’m still spending a lot of time transporting kids, but that will all change in just a few months. When I’m stressed about having to be in three places seemingly at once, I need to remember that there will be a time when I won’t have to take anyone anywhere anymore, so I need to soak up that valuable time by being present with my kids now.

Something that is not likely to go away in any season, however, is social media and our kids’ access to it. A friend of mine addressed this in a recent blog post, “A Safe Amount of Heroin.” (Sound provocative? Read it!) When I read her opening line, “The kids are not all right,” it felt like déjà vu because the opening line of Thrivers is, “Our kids are in trouble” (Borba, p. 1). Do I detect a theme? Although social media is certainly not the only culprit here, it’s a mighty powerful one. I’m middle-aged and can easily get sucked down a Facebook rabbit hole of all the trivia you would never believe about [pick your topic]. What about our kids, who learned how to swipe on an iPad before they ever gripped a crayon? These are the people who have a hard time grasping why anyone would turn to a book for research when all of Wikipedia is at their fingertips. Or who can communicate via Snapchat but have no idea how to interact in person. The rise in social media use and the instant availability of just about everything on smartphones has direct links to both depression and our kids’ inability to cultivate the traits that would otherwise allow them to thrive (forget page numbers—just read all of Thrivers). If you’re still not convinced, as my friend aptly points out in her post:

[T]he rise of smartphones and social media means that your average 14-year-old spends almost all her time surrounded by other 14-year-olds—at school, and then digitally everywhere else.

What that means is that these 14-year-olds see the entire world exclusively from the perspective of a 14-year-old, which is terrifying. When one of them experiences their first heartbreak, it is literally the worst thing that has happened to any of them.

Kids who have no access beyond their own experience are at an extreme disadvantage. (Anyone read Lord of the Flies?) My friend has chosen to hold off on giving her youngest child access to social media and smartphones as long as possible. At our house, we did not allow Peter a SIM card for his phone until he was 14, and we’re on the same path for Ian. We also have meals around the table as a family and play card games with three generations—so our kids aren’t living in an isolated world of only people their age. And we now have enough pets that everyone in the house has to take responsibility for them, which includes mandatory outside time (we have chickens!). Whatever you decide will undoubtedly be difficult but necessary because all the pressures of 21st century life make it harder than ever to raise people who will be fulfilled adults someday. In Thrivers, Borba devotes a chapter to each of the seven traits that she says are lacking in strivers: self-confidence, empathy, self-control, integrity, curiosity, perseverance, and optimism. None of these traits happen by accident, but with our help, our kids can fulfill their first and most important job: to be kids. This means playing, discovering, failing, eating some dirt, and nothaving to shoulder the stresses that we adults unnecessarily place on their shoulders. When our kids quit striving and start thriving, wonderful things will happen.

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Does School Choir Matter?

singing

Sharing my love of music with my youngest

Before reading on, I invite you to watch a video (from whence I stole this post’s title) that addresses this issue by clicking here.

Growing up, I was always involved in some sort of music, from taking music lessons as a three-year-old and transitioning to piano to singing in children’s choir at church to my elementary school’s auditioned three-part chorus. My middle school’s chorus program was dying when I got there. After one frustrating year, I left that school, but I made my decision so late in the summer that it was too late to audition for our arts magnet middle school. Instead, my parents decided to try homeschooling me.

Maybe one reason I tend to read and write teen fiction is because I empathize with the ugly duckling teenagers who aren’t comfortable in their own skin and don’t know where they fit in the world. One reason I so readily left my middle school was because, somewhere in the adolescent muck, my old friends were no longer true friends. My rose-colored lenses were shattered beyond repair. Homeschooling was perfect; I no longer had to interact with my peers. Forget ugly duckling; I’d become a turtle that never poked her head out of her shell, and I’m sure my parents envisioned me locked in my childhood room, devouring books and Twinkies at the age of thirty-eight.

Completely against my will, they signed me up for a summer musical program at a local high school. It was a “normal school,” not one with a magnet program. But despite cuts in funding, this school still had musical theatre and chorus, the teachers of both programs collaborating to put on summer musicals that rivaled those of our city’s arts magnet. My closest cousin was a student at this school, and the chorus teacher was a friend of his family. My chorus teacher was (and still is) a loving man, who always put his students first. He took me under his wing, and even though I continued to homeschool, he became my advocate, convincing the principal to let me into the school’s chorus and musical theatre programs. After my first year, the musical theatre teacher left, but chorus remained. I sang in all the concerts, including three times in Disney’s Candlelight Processional. I sang in chorus, ensemble, and solo competitions at the district and state levels, participated in All State choruses, and went on two trips to New York City. I also met my husband.

The year after I graduated, the chorus program wilted. Funding at the school was cut, and they consolidated both chorus and band positions into one instructor, which was neither fair to the students nor the teacher. My chorus teacher, not wanting to compromise the program he’d built by being stretched so thin, went to a different school that still appreciated that chorus and band are two different things.

For a kid who homeschooled without being a part of a homeschool group, I would have missed so many opportunities if there hadn’t been a local high school chorus program and teacher willing to let me participate. It would be hypocritical of me to put my head in the sand with the attitude that because I love music, I’ll always make sure my own kids have opportunities to participate in musical programs. While that’s great for my boys, that’s not the point. So many kids have talents they’ll never get to nurture because their parents don’t have the time, means, or desire to help them outside of school. By cutting musical programs and only offering them at specialty or independent schools, we’re robbing children of a different way to learn, to think, to live. Not to mention that music also makes for excellent therapy.

But at least there’s always college, right? I mean, if they’re still interested at that point. After all, that’s how my parents met—in college chorale, where they not only had the opportunity to sing but to do so all over the US and Europe. But at the same junior college they attended (which is now a state college), the funding has been cut to the point that there may not be a choral program after the next couple years.

Let me ask: what do kids look forward to when they get up and go to school every day? Are they excited to learn how to take tests? I doubt it, but more and more, that’s what school is becoming. I looked forward to school (except for that one year) because I loved my friends and even my teachers. And my teachers made learning fun because they were actually allowed to teach subjects that excited them. If we send our kids to institutions for seven-plus hours five days a week but subtract all the parts that make child- and young adulthood fun, how can we expect their enthusiasm for learning to grow, much less flourish? This isn’t limited to music, folks. What happened to recess? Visual arts? Non-academic learning, such as kids problem solving and developing grit through play? These are all undervalued by the people in charge, whomever they are, and those of us who care are left sitting here, scratching our heads and wondering what we can do.

I wish I had an answer. I’m grateful to all the private music teachers, after-school programs, and conservatories that promote musical learning, but they’re often spread thin, too. These are private entities that depend on outside funding, tuition, or grants to keep their doors open, none of which are guaranteed. Why do we undervalue something that can bring about such positive change in the lives of everyone, from babies to the elderly? After all, the children of this generation will be taking care of me in a nursing home not too many decades from now, and when that time comes, I hope they’ll appreciate that playing some of my favorite songs and giving me a cool coloring book is more worthwhile than letting me turn into a vegetable in front of a TV.

The question isn’t really if school choir matters. It’s the why of the thing. It matters because it creates a safe space for children who come from different backgrounds, religions, cultures, and so on to create something together that’s much greater than what they can do individually. And if they grow an appreciation for this when they’re young, they’re more likely to take it with them as they grow and mature. I think it’s a pretty good place to start.

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Do Something

Care-a-Thon

While I would often like to put my head in the sand and pretend that my kids are not growing up, it’s obvious with every inch and every milestone that they’re well on their way to becoming independent young men. This generation will never know what it’s like to live in a world without i- and e-technology. They think it’s funny to see shows or movies about the good old 20th century, but they don’t know what it was like to live in that time—to wait for dial up internet. Or actually have to talk on the phone (and not even know who’s calling). They live in an era of instant gratification, and it can be challenging to teach them to wait FIVE MINUTES without using technology to entertain them.

Then several months ago, I received a very welcome message from a friend of mine. Our elder sons have gone to school together since they were three, and we deal with many of the same parenting struggles, one of which is helping our kids recognize how blessed they are. What better way to help them realize this than by serving others?

My friend started a group called “Do Something! Boys Serving Others,” and her idea is to encourage all the boys from our sons’ grade at their school to engage in weekly service projects this summer. We started with a spring break preview, in which a group of parents and our boys served breakfast to the homeless. It was an eye-opening experience for our sons, two hours in which no one used a phone or tablet. In hair nets and aprons, we filled trays of food and served them to people we’d never seen before and will likely never see again.

Care PouchesEvery week this summer, a different family will sponsor a “do something,” and I immediately thought of WSB’s Care-a-Thon benefiting Aflac Cancer & Blood Disorders Center/Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta, which happens every July. When it’s our family’s turn, we will “do something” for children with cancer. For years, I have participated in this Care-a-Thon. A few years ago, I sent copies of my children’s book, Hero, to the children there. This year, I decided it would be good for the boys to put together care pouches for the 64 children at Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta.

The children we’re benefiting spend their lives hospital-bound, and their parents make significant sacrifices to care for them. My day-to-day frustrations seem small in comparison. I hope my son and his friends will realize how blessed they are to be able to do such seemingly insignificant things go to the grocery store, deal with bed head, and play baseball when so many children cannot have these experiences, due to their health. By making these care pouches and writing each child a personal note, I hope to give the Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta patients a little piece of normal.

If you would like to sponsor a $15 care pouch, please comment below, and I will get in touch with you. I am also hosting a Thirty-One fundraiser through early July. All proceeds will go to this year’s Care-a-Thon. You can make a purchase any time between now and July 9th by shopping here.

Don’t put your head in the sand—Do Something!

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I Shouldn’t Have to Say This

Reading RainbowWhen I taught prekindergarten, I was perplexed when a student refused to check out books on our weekly trips to the library—until I learned that the books went home and were never read. I told her I would be glad to read them to her, but she refused. She had already learned that non-technological pursuits had less value than flashy apps. And even though some of these apps were “educational,” they couldn’t make up for the parent-child interaction that comes with reading together. This is a battle all parents of the twenty-first century are fighting. Or, rather, it’s a battle I wish we would all fight. Too many of us have already waved the white flag, assigning reading the status of optional.

This is something that’s hard to wrap my mind around, considering that reading is like breathing to me. I went through a short period during which I didn’t want to read on my own—and I’m sure it was due to learning to read and spending my energies on deciphering the code rather than taking in the story—but I got over that pretty quickly. When I started reading novels, I soon had no more books to read at home and then discovered the wonders of my elementary school’s library. I plowed through Beverly Cleary and Little Women and every book of mythology I could get my hands on. In middle school, my dad introduced me to Michael Crichton, and then I discovered the vast catalog of Agatha Christie titles. When I met my husband, I was on a Stephen King kick, and he soon started reading my books when I finished them. Over the years this evolved to Harry Potter and many others. Other couples may hire a babysitter and go on dates. We sit around and read and then bug each other to read the books we’ve just finished so we can talk about them.

Naturally, this has extended to our children. When our elder son was little, we read Go, Dog. Go! to him so much that he had the book completely memorized and would act out the scenes. There have been some nights recently when our activities have necessitated getting the kids to bed way past their usual bedtimes, and for the sake of sleep, we have foregone our usual reading-together-before-bed ritual. And let me tell you: the kids don’t like it. “Can we read [book of the moment]?” Peter will ask. And I’ll feel horrible for having to turn him down.

I was recently reading on a Friday night, and with absolutely no reason to get up early the next day, I kept going until past midnight, finishing the last 90 pages of the book. (For someone who gets up at 4:40 every weekday, that’s quite a feat!) Devouring a book because it’s too good to put down is an amazing feeling. Ordering the sequel on Amazon is a close second.

Unfortunately, many people labor under the mistaken belief that novels are only for “escape” or “fluff.” On the contrary: I’ve learned all kinds of things from my sojourns in fiction, from new vocabulary to customs unlike my own to truths I may not have pondered had they not been presented to me in a unique, fictional light. Not to mention that all writers should read simply for the exposure to another writer’s perspective. For every age, not just children, books provide an excellent avenue for learning and growth, and a great example for children is to see people to whom they look up reading.

When I learned my elder son was dyslexic, I was distressed, worrying that the child who loved to be read to would hate books once he had to read them on his own. And although he still struggles, he loves books—and there are wonderful apps out there to make books accessible to those who do have reading problems. There is absolutely no reason why everyone should not be able to enjoy books in some form or fashion. (Books aren’t available to everyone, you may argue. Click here to read a blog that addresses this very issue.)

I’m not saying that other activities are without merit. I’m also a baseball/musical theatre/piano/visual arts/LEGO/Marvel Universe mom. I pride myself on offering my kids multiple outlets for their talents and interests, but I believe I would be robbing them of a great opportunity if I didn’t share my love of books with them. I shouldn’t have to make this argument at all, yet so many people harbor the notion that reading is only for people with oodles of spare time or who have a nerdish personality. For example, if you saw a muscular dude reading a book in the park instead of engaging in some form of physical activity, would you be surprised? If yes, it’s because popular culture has created a stereotype for the typical “reader.” But it shouldn’t be that way. Books are for everyone.

Maybe it’s corny, but I think the Reading Rainbow theme song states it pretty well:

Butterfly in the sky, I can go twice as high.

Take a look, it’s in a book, a Reading Rainbow!

I can go anywhere.

Friends to know,

and ways to grow.

A Reading Rainbow!

I can be anything.

Take a look,

it’s in a book.

A Reading Rainbow.

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From Resolution to Habit

Social Media IllustrationsIt was almost one year ago when I posted about my (pre)New Year’s resolution. And since it has almost been a year, I figured I would give an update, just in case anyone remembers or cares. (Read the original post here.)

I have, in fact, kept my resolution to be less dependent on social media/my iPhone. In fact, within a couple months of making this resolution, a friend told me she had decided to give up Facebook for Lent. At the time, I felt somewhat smug: I didn’t need to give it up because I had already majorly dialed back my social media usage. After the 40 days were up, I asked her if she missed Facebook, and she said that she didn’t; she had deleted the app from her phone and felt no urge to download it again. After breaking the habit, she wasn’t eager to start it again.

It reminded me of my relationship with food. By cutting out most carbs and sugars over the past year, not only have I lost weight that I thought I would have to carry around forever, but I’ve lost the urge to eat carbs and sugars. No more crazy cravings, no more roaring hunger. Even though I could “afford” to cheat a little, I don’t want to.

These aren’t just “I wish I could” resolutions that look good from the perspective of December 31st. While it feels too grandiose to say that they are paradigm shifts, they definitely take resolve (hello). What we consume—both physically and mentally—contributes to our lifestyles, and if you want to be more than one of the huge percentage of people whose resolutions are laughable, you have to be willing to make a shift—and not shift back.

When my teaching position transitioned into a year-round, full-time job late in the spring, I realized that I needed to tighten down on what free time I had left. While I didn’t feel the need to cut out social media altogether, leaving my phone in a different room overnight and in my purse when out with my family wasn’t enough. So I made a new, mid-year resolution: only check Facebook once a day. What this looks like is that I now check my notifications once (usually in the morning), and if I have a couple spare minutes, I scroll through a couple new posts. I even moved Facebook out of my iPhone’s home row, so it’s not a one-click option anymore. While it bothered me at first that I wouldn’t be as “in touch” anymore, I find that I really don’t miss it. If ever I’m curious about whether a friend finally had her baby, for example, I’ll search for that friend. I am no longer a social media tool; it is a tool that I can use when I choose.

Call me a bad Millennial—it won’t hurt my feelings—I’ve always known I was more of an old-fashioned girl. With my kids getting older and closer to that age when they’ll want smartphones of their own, I resolve to be the example of a person who uses technology responsibly, and I hope they will follow suit.

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Let Them Be Children Now, So They Can Be Adults Later

 

Kids racing

I was saddened to learn of a recent teenage suicide, in which the boy who took his life apparently felt that he had screwed up so badly that the only recourse was to take his life. Why in the world would a seventeen-year-old from a good family and with a bright future think that ending his life was the only option he had left?

I believe that there are too many pressures on today’s kids, and you can see it in the way we structure their days. Think about the schools in which the arts and recess have been cut. What message are we sending? That sitting at a desk and making the right test score is the most important thing.

I jokingly lectured a dad of one of my preschoolers at the beginning of this school year that there’s nothing more developmentally appropriate for her to do than play. “Her Harvard application isn’t due for a few years,” I said, and I thought he would laugh, but the look he gave me said, I couldn’t disagree with you more. My question is, if she’s already being discouraged from letting her imagination run wild at the age of four, when exactly does she get to be a kid?

One of the tasks of a preschool teacher is, indeed, to evaluate the readiness of students to move on to the next level—but we’re talking kindergarten, folks, not the Ivy League. In considering one child in particular—a child who has all kinds of processing and attention and core strength issues—a comment was made that 10 years ago, he would have happily played through his preschool days and moved on to kindergarten with no one ever considering holding him back. But instead, he’s having all kinds of interventions to make sure that he can make it through preschool. And it’s not like he’s the only one.

As I already mentioned, children are losing many opportunities to express themselves creatively and physically with the loss of arts programs and recess, but the problem is that it’s not just at school where this is happening. Within the past 10 years, we’ve had the advent of the touch screen. We have a number of iPads designated for our classroom, and although our four- and five-year-olds love them, there is a marked difference in the way they behave when we bring them out. It places them in self-absorbed bubbles, and if that reminds you of anyone (ahem, teenagers and Millennials), then I hope you’re disturbed enough to want to reverse this trend. When you’re four and five years old, this kind of technology should be used sparingly, if at all, and LEGOs, building blocks, puzzles, and play kitchens should be the norm. (Here’s a great article about the dangers of turning over smartphone technology to our kids.)

At the end of 2016, I wrote about spending less time with my own technology (social media, in particular), and although I’ve really enjoyed putting my phone and down and breaking that addiction, I’m just one person. In this digital age, it’s more and more common to see families sitting around the dinner table, parents and older kids on their devices, ignoring the smallest members, who are literally screaming for attention. When asked recently by a workshop facilitator why we have K through 12 education (and in my case, PreK), it occurred to me that teachers have to provide more than the three R’s anymore; present day teachers are also teaching the things that children should be learning at home. Take manners and respect. It’s difficult expect a child to behave appropriately when he engages in disrespectful behavior right in front of his parents with no correction. These basics aren’t being taught at home because parents are mentally elsewhere, which gives people in my position an extra responsibility in addition to teaching letter and number recognition.

As infants, children are learning to swipe on a touch screen. Then when they start school, we teachers have to introduce their parents to such novel ideas as coloring with crayons, playing with Play-Doh, and painting at an easel—and paying for occupational therapy. For most children, if they’d just engaged in developmentally appropriate play to begin with, their parents wouldn’t have to incur this added expense just to teach them how to hold a pencil or use a pair of scissors.

I understand why technology is so attractive—it’s a great babysitter—but we have to understand that it can easily turn to junk food for the brain. There’s no substitute, in my book, for a box of LEGOs in the middle of the living room floor, a coloring book and crayons at the kitchen table, or a few minutes of introducing children to a beloved book. (Here’s an article about what parents of “good” kids do.)

More and more, we’ve come to expect that kids are just going to be tortured and inattentive while they sit at desks for extended periods, and that just shouldn’t be the case. A well-rounded childhood should include playing outside unstructured, which means that we shouldn’t micromanage every minute. One of the methods we use in our preschool to help children get ready for our “work” time is to let them run outside and play. In fact, I have one student who will hit the wall, and I’ve learned to just let him go and play with blocks for a few minutes, and he’ll be better able to finish a project after getting this little break. Here is one article, and here’s another, that both explain why the absence of play is leading to attention and sensory issues in this upcoming generation.

Kids can be kids when we sing silly songs in the car and at bath time, when we read books together, and, most of all, when we take the time to express why we do things the way we do. It doesn’t take any extra money, but it does take time and the willingness to put our children first. By connecting with them in these simple ways, we’re showing that we care, and if you don’t think that matters, then why did you have children to begin with?

Instead of raising techno-zombies and expecting them to succeed from the moment they show an interest in learning, we need to spend the effort to let them know that whatever they do, their lives are worthwhile. They need to learn how to fail, so they won’t expect everything to be handed to them without ever lifting a finger. They won’t be crushed when life, inevitably, is unfair. Instead, they’ll tackle challenges with creativity and resiliency. They’ll take responsibility for their actions and understand that other lives are being impacted as well, and they’ll have respect for those other lives.

In short, as long as we understand that throwing our hands in the air and doing the easy thing is not the best thing, then there’s the chance that this next generation will give aging Millennials the opportunity to say, “What’s with this generation? How’d they end up so well-adjusted? Oh, that’s right. We raised them that way.”

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A Resolution I’m Eager to Make

alarm-clock

Four years ago, I wrote a post entitled “I Don’t Make New Year’s Resolutions”—and I don’t. Or didn’t. Anyhow, the point is that I’m not one of these people who is eager to start the new year on a new foot or new shoe or new path or whatever. (Actually, the post was about books—and you’ll see my 2017 update in a couple days.)

In general, I’m very happy with my life, and when I want to make a change, I go ahead and do it, no matter the date. So maybe that’s why I’m making my change today—two days before the new year. How very gauche of me.

It started with a video I saw on Facebook. In fact, I get a lot of my blog fodder from Facebook, so before I trash social media, I owe it a big thank you. Before you read on, please watch the video below. It’s well worth the 15 minutes.

There is so much here that applies to my life and the lives of people around me. I find it interesting that the guy (sorry, don’t know his name) brings responsibility back to corporations. I hope that I do the job I’m supposed to do as a parent, and my children won’t have a lot of these issues. One friend remarked that it’s not just Millennials who are the problem, and I would have to agree, although when I was growing up, I never received a participation award. (Or if I did, it ended up in the trash because it wasn’t worth squat.) I can’t help it that my son’s baseball team gives him a trophy every season for just showing up, but here’s what I can do something about: my own participation on social media.

One of my former clients wrote for people who were self-employed, and many of his articles centered around time management. There are apps that can help people limit the time they spend on social media or that will post for them on a predetermined schedule. Basically, it’s all about us managing rather than being managed by the social media that we use. He also wrote about only checking email at prescribed times because as soon as someone sees that you’ve answered an email at 11:00 P.M., they’ll start expecting you to be available then.

I fought getting a smart phone for a long time; I was a latecomer when I purchased my first iPhone in mid-2012. That was also when I was new at being a mom of two and deeply post-partum depressed. Overall, it was kind of a perfect storm. I got sucked into all sorts of games (that I have since deleted) and stopped doing a lot of things that I love. Did I become addicted, as the guy in the video says? It certainly is easy to just sit and scroll through posts on a phone when you’re exhausted, but I’m not exhausted anymore. I have the energy and motivation to do other things now, but the simple act of opening my Facebook app (itself an amoral action) can suck valuable minutes and hours from my life and the lives of my loved ones. That’s not to say that there aren’t great things on Facebook (after all, you might remember that that’s where I found the above video). The problem is that logging on to wish a quick happy birthday to a friend or to check my notifications can lead down a rabbit hole that costs me an entire afternoon—and costs my children my attention.

So here are some things I’ve decided to do:

  • Use an alarm clock

Yep. I can’t remember how long it’s been since I threw my old one away after being swatted to the floor one too many times. Fortunately, as the guy in the video says, they’re cheap. I’m going to start leaving my phone charging in the kitchen at night. That means that if you want me, you’d better call or text before 9:00 because I go to bed early during the school week. It also means that I should get better sleep, which will lead to better energy when I wake up, a rested brain, a nicer Sarah, etc.

  • Leave my phone in my purse

Yes, I do carry it with me everywhere. I like to take quick snapshots of my kids, and I use my calculator and dictionary apps almost as often as anything else—so it does have its uses. But there is absolutely no reason to check emails or IMDb or Facebook when I’m out to eat with my family. If I show my boys the attention that they deserve now, I hope they will learn that habit and carry it forward in the (far distant) future when they have their own phones.

  • Not post to social media the minute something happens

I was going through photos recently, and I found one from my younger son’s first trip to Disney World. There we were, all in a row: Thomas holding the baby and our older son sitting in between us—and me on my phone. I can tell you exactly what I was doing, which was posting photos from the trip we were on to Facebook. Instead of just enjoying the trip. What difference would it have made if I’d waited a few hours? I’ll tell you: I would have been looking at my children instead of my phone. No more! Take pictures, yes. Post to social media? It can wait until later.

I don’t want to be one of those people who is oblivious to what’s going on around her, sporting a premature dowager’s hump because I’m stooped over my screen. I want to enjoy people watching (it’s funny—admit it) instead of my husband telling me I just missed something hilarious. (Or if I do miss it, I want it to be because I was in my book, not in my phone.)

I hope that by implementing these small changes, I will help address some of the other issues mentioned in the video. Being a good example is key. Not to mention that I think I will be a happier person. I’m a bookworm who loves scrapbooking and adult coloring books, but while I still do read a lot, my other hobbies have suffered in recent years. That photo I found from Disney World? That was from New Year’s 2013—and I rediscovered it because I’m almost ready to start on my 2013 scrapbook. Part of the reason I’m nearly four years behind is because I’m a busy mom of two, but I can’t use that excuse for everything. I can reduce a lot of my busyness by limiting my time on my phone. And after all, the recipes that I love and the videos that are so funny will still be there later. And if you think that it’s something I absolutely must see, tag me. I will look at it after getting my kids to bed and before plugging my phone in—across the house—for the night.

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Face Time

FaceTime logo

There’s a good reason why Apple chose “FaceTime” as the name of their video-calling product. Unlike a regular old phone call, it allows people with the FaceTime app to chat face-to-face. It’s something my husband and I used recently when our kids were out of town. I’m so grateful for the benefits of modern technology, but I also have to be careful not to let those same benefits turn detrimental.

I fought getting a Smartphone for a long time. My husband had a Blackberry for a while, and no offense to Blackberry, but it was a piece of garbage. I know now that it was just an inferior model, but its rudimentary GPS that only worked when you didn’t need it and super-slow Internet search capabilities left me underwhelmed. Not to mention that I would rather stay in the stone age than learn how to use new technology. Update the operating system on my computer, and I get all ticked off that the icons look different. You’d think I’m more like an octogenarian than a millennial.

I did finally break down and get an iPhone. A longtime Apple user, I knew that it would be user-friendly and easy to learn, and I wasn’t disappointed. But I had heard about people becoming glued to their Smartphones, compulsively checking email in the middle of the night, over-stimulating their brains by browsing Facebook instead of reading a book before bed. I was afraid I would turn into a Smartphone zombie, and the games and apps available soon had me trapped. I was playing Words with Friends at stoplights and browsing shallow entertainment articles when I could have been doing just about anything else. To lure a bookworm away from her books is quite a feat.

There were other issues at play—I can’t place all the blame on my iPhone. When I purchased it, I had a months-old infant and was mired in the depths of postpartum depression. It was easier to engage in mindless pursuits and live on autopilot than try to do… anything. Fortunately, the depression was temporary, and once I was myself again, I realized what was going on: I had allowed myself to be seduced by technology.

I deleted all the games I’d downloaded, and I moved the ones that I couldn’t delete off my home screen. I started to read again. I came out of my funk and remembered that I liked to write and edit and decided to try my hand at making some money on the side.

Thus began my transition from pro bono editor to freelance writer. I once again let technology take over. While I wasn’t necessarily playing games, I was writing articles when I should have been a mom. My wake up call came in the form of my elder son telling me that I wasn’t always very fun. I knew I had to make some changes, and you can read about them in my Work-At-Home Covenant post.

But working at home is just a part of it. Parents who work 40-plus hours a week outside of the home are just as susceptible to the likes of Candy Crush and Pokémon Go (or so I’ve heard—I engage in neither). I’ve set a few rules for myself. I don’t use my phone at all after I’ve gone to bed, unless responding to an emergency text in the middle of the night. I used to check emails if I awoke in the night, only to wake myself up so completely that I couldn’t get back to sleep. Also, after recently reading an article (written by a non-millennial) about how young people are unable to start their day without technology, I decided to buck that trend by starting my days with at least five minutes of contemplation. Sometimes this means that I fall back asleep (oh, well), but I usually spend it thinking about the people in my life who are going through tough times. If I tell you I’m keeping you in my thoughts and prayers, that’s not an idle promise—I’m doing it every morning.

So I’ve insulated myself when I need to sleep and when I wake—what about the rest of the day? Such as when I’m being a wife and mom?

It just so happens that when I was watching the news this morning, the resident “expert” seemed to be talking directly to me. The story was all about how harmful it is for parents to be on their phones when they’re around their children. It could be texting, spending time on social media, reading the news, or checking emails—it doesn’t matter what the parents are doing so much as what the children are seeing. They’re seeing that their parents are engaged with technology rather than the family.

The news story made me rethink my own use of technology, how I will sometimes read a stupid article with a catchy headline, which is followed by something like, “Readers who liked this also liked 50 Hairstyles You Don’t Care About and That Will Steal 10 More Minutes from Your Life!” I didn’t buy an iPhone to read vapid tripe like this. I use the camera feature when my kids are doing something cute; I use the alarm to keep to my schedule; I access dictionary apps when I need to look up a word—but the email and social media and all the rest is like so much icing, pleasant in moderation but sickening if I overindulge.

Many parents, conscious of the overstimulation of so much technology, limit the amount of time their kids watch TV, play video games, and spend on their phones doing who knows what. I do the same. So this morning, when my elder son asked if he could watch TV and I said, “No,” he pulled out the iPad. “That’s the same thing—you’re still watching a show,” I told him.

“You’re using technology,” he said.

I was. I had my laptop open, ready to write this post. Touché, little man.

I closed the laptop and pulled out my novel. I helped my four-year-old cut some shapes that his brother had traced for him. And long after I’d planned to let my son turn the TV on again, he was still sitting on the couch, looking at one of my old scrapbooks.

It’s not all about technology, but rather about being present. Technology just happens to be the biggest culprit. So the next time you pull out your Smartphone or tablet or sit in front of the computer, take stock of why you’re doing what you’re doing. Is it useful? Can you do it later? When was the last time you played a board game with your kids or sat at the table as a family, all phones switched off? Do you remember when you last had actual face time?

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Creation Station Summer

So the school year is over at the Cotchaleovitch residence, and it is time to sleep until 9:00 every morning, let the kids binge watch TV while I kick back with a book, and only change out of pajamas and emerge into the real world when we’re down to our last Capri Sun. Once we’ve recovered a little, we’ll consider a vacation.

Well, not quite. But by the last day of school, I was feeling pretty elated that we’d all made it. There were a lot of firsts in the 2015-16 school year: it was my first year teaching full-time; it was Ian’s first year in school; and it was Peter’s first year with an in-school reading resource for dyslexic kids, which meant I didn’t have to run him to a tutor twice a week.

We were on the home stretch. Other teachers commiserated with me when I noted that my students needed a second spring break. Like a permanent one. For the last month of school, we were all just holding on. That’s not to say that there weren’t good days, but there comes a point when a child can only take so much, and then every new bit of info you try to cram in their brains just comes spilling out of their ears. I’m sure parents felt much the same way (read one mom’s hilarious recap of her kids’ end of school year experience here).

Then, when it seemed that all the end-of-year events were falling into place, my eight-year-old got sick. I mean three-trips-to-the-doctor-in-six-days, two-different-antibiotics, absent-for-six-days sick. My husband, my parents, and I took turns watching him, and I stressed out over what he could possibly have (at the third appointment, the conclusion was bronchitis, but the fever that wouldn’t quit is still a mystery). Believe me, I was ready for some uninterrupted home time.

But there’s a part of me that knows what will happen in the fall if I just totally deflate and turn into a zombie for the next two-and-a-half months: everything my kids have learned in the past year will be relegated to their mental back burners, and the readjustment period come mid-August will be painful for both them and their teachers.

I had a rough idea of what my kids needed to accomplish this summer. Peter has a summer reading book, and so he doesn’t forget all his math skills, we need to play some math games that his teacher showed me. As for Ian, he’ll need to work on his fine motor skills. From working with four- and five-year-olds, I know that strengthening his fingers can be as simple as letting him put beads on strings, practice cutting with safety scissors, color, and play with Play-Doh.

So now, to implement all of these things into the days we spend at home. It was actually during Peter’s sickness that it all came together for me. One day, when his was fever was down and he had the energy get creative, he made this cute monster-Mickey-Mouse-ears thing:

Monster Frame.jpg

Ian loved it so much that Peter made another one for him. It shouldn’t have surprised me that the boys had so much fun inventing crafts from their own imaginations; after all, it’s what we encourage kids to do at school when we set up a table full of various supplies. It’s called “creation station.” At his age, it’s not the kind of thing Peter does much anymore, so it’s particularly enjoyable for him to do at home.

Creation Station.jpg

This is something that I can let my kids do with supplies already on hand and minimal brain power on my part. So many moms see crafts on Pinterest and then get stressed out because they think (I don’t know why) that their children expect perfection – or for them to spend hundreds of dollars on obscure supplies at craft stores. I promise you, they don’t. The kids I taught all year were usually happy with paper and crayons. While it may not be as easy as letting the TV babysit them, it keeps their little minds engaged without them even knowing it.

And the creation station portion of each day has an added benefit for me; it gives me a dedicated time to do a little prep for my class next year… and to do a little creating of my own. 🙂

Creation Station II.jpg