I've Got Class

You know those anxiety dreams you used to have/still have about school? The one where you forgot to go to class all semester and now there's a final exam? Or you wore a ridiculous outfit or forgot to wear clothes at all? Or you showed up and it was the wrong night or the wrong time or the wrong place? Well, last week I lived out one of my anxiety dreams in the very first class of the graduate certificate in practical theater program that I started this semester. (You may recall that I'm going to be a famous actress as soon as my kids move out of the house.)

Here's how my dreams/nightmares became reality:

I showed up for my Principles of  Acting class about 15 minutes early on Thursday evening. I was anxious and I didn't want to be late. When I got to the room there was a sign on the door that said "Do Not Disturb. Studio in Use," but I chalked it up to my early arrival and I waited. And waited. At 7:30, the door still hadn't opened and no one else had showed up. Obviously not a good sign. Given my increased tendency to remember things incorrectly, I double checked my calendar. I had the class start time correct. My calendar didn't indicate a location, but I was certain it was Vasey Studio. Well, I was certainly wrong. My acting class was in another building. The one furthest from where I was currently, and I wasn't wearing running shoes. So I took off my sandals and started sprinting barefoot across campus. I can just imagine how many heads I turned. And not in a good way.

I arrived at my class 20 minutes late, dripping with sweat. I explained to the professor and my classmates that I was going for "a dramatic entrance" and then took my seat in the circle on the floor. I had missed everyone's personal introductions and the syllabus review, and was put on the spot with a request to tell the group something interesting about myself. I played the 2nd degree black belt card so all the other students would think I'm a badass. A sweaty, late, middle aged badass.

From there, things got interesting. The class started with movement. Lots of movement. On the floor. Yoga positions, which I must say I nailed as compared to my considerably more youthful classmates. Of course, being an acting class, we couldn't merely stretch into the locust position. We had to breathe at the same time. Audibly. With feeling. Being born without the capacity for embarrassment, I let it all out. Including my underwear. Bad choice of granny panties with pants that sat too low on my hips to cover them, particularly when rocking back and forth on my stomach while holding my feet in my hands. By the time we finished on the floor, I was so sweaty that I looked like I'd peed myself. And they say you only get one chance to make a first impression.

After we returned to vertical positions and circled up, we began throwing knives at one another. No surprise there. And if we didn't catch the imaginary knife being thrown at us, we had to die a dramatic death. I died relatively early in the process. So I spent more time on the floor. I'm not sure what actors have against chairs.

The good news is that the highlight of the evening was still to come.

We spent the final hour (seriously, a full hour) of class staring at each other. But at least we got to sit for it. We each took turns on a chair in the front of the room where our assignment was to look at each person for longer than is comfortable. Frankly, I enjoyed it. We were given permission to gawk and I gave myself permission to also judge everyone I looked at. I made up little stories about them in my head. It was good fun. The sitting while others stared wasn't quite as enjoyable. Way too much down time for someone who constantly needs to be doing something (or sleeping). I didn't mind being stared, though I did have trouble not breaking into a smile, winking, licking my lips, or tossing out a Joey Tribbiani "How you doin?" just to break up the monotony.

Next week's class will begin with one word to describe how we feel, followed by more floor moves, a physical destination exercise and a read through of the monologue we've selected for our semester performance. I'm psyched. Seriously.

Though I'm the only one in class who didn't major in theater or performance as an undergraduate, and am probably the only one who hasn't auditioned or performed in anything for 25 years, I'm surprisingly comfortable. I rather enjoy the age difference (especially given my impressive level of flexibility), I don't have to think twice about letting my freak flag fly, and honestly, the other students are super friendly. I think this is gonna be good. And if it's not, I'll at least get some great blog material out of the experience!

Well that's Depressing: A Checklist for Parents of Teens

Last week was back-to-school night at Ian's high school (they have block scheduling, which means classes change halfway through the year). Back-to-school night is like a high school flashback for the parents. Well, for me, anyway. I check out the cute guys what the other girls are wearing and regret my choice. I go to classes and wonder if that mom would get a better grade than me. Sometimes I have the classic anxiety dream the night before. The one where I have an exam and haven't been to class for months. Sometimes I show up naked.

This particular back-to-school night was made that much more upsetting interesting by the presence of a helpful handout. In addition to the schedule for the evening, this brochure included guilt inducing parenting mandates advice. Along with "Tips for Healthy Teens" there were "Keys to Being a Hands-On Parent," published by the National Center on Addiction and Substance Abuse. In neither category did I score my usual an A. I don't think I even pulled out a B. Under tips for healthy teens:

• Enough sleep? No. 
• Breakfast? Abby, occasionally. Ian, rarely. 
• Hand washing to kill germs? Um. Well. I think one of them does that. Not coincidentally, it's the child who doesn't get sick as often.

As depressing as my results were in the health category, I felt even worse about my parenting skills when I got to the anti-addiction/substance abuse guidelines. Based on my score, it seems my kids are destined for "at-risk behaviors." My failures lie in:

• Not monitoring what they watch on television.
• Not monitoring what they do on the internet.
• Not putting restrictions on the music they buy.
• Not having an adult present when they arrive home from school.
• Not eating dinner with them (that would require feeding them - see #7 below)

On the positive side, I'm relatively sure:

• I know where they are after school and on weekends. And I think they're telling me the truth about their whereabouts.
• I'm aware of their academic performance. Yes, I definitely have that under control.
• I'm making my values clear to them. They just have to remember to do as I say, not as I do.
• There's no television watching during dinner. That's the only advantage of having just one TV in the house.
• I've assigned them regular chores. I know that I've asked. Whether they do them when I ask is a whole other thing. 

Did this helpful brochure end on an up note? Did it soften the blow with an amusing or empathetic quote that reminded me how none of us is perfect, and that it takes a village, yada, yada, yada? No. What followed was a list of upcoming school events. None of which I was aware of and none that I'm interested in attending or volunteering for. I'm feeling really good about myself right now.

Since I'm already raw and exposed, I may as well add these 10 confessions, addressed to my wonderful teenagers:

1. When you're helpful, pleasant, and nice to your sibling, I can't help but wonder what you want or what you've done.
2. There are times I look forward to the day you leave for college, just so I can clean your room and it will stay that way for more than 24-hours.
3. I have no idea which parts of your life I'm still supposed to be actively involved in. Should I be nagging you about your school work, or save my breath for the bigger stuff? 
4. Speaking of the big stuff, I have a lot riding on your ability to drive. That's the day I will be free to fulfill my dreams of community theater stardom, attend best-selling author book readings, and take a class. I probably won't do any of that, but I won't have you as an excuse if I don't.
5. I'm scared to death at the thought of you driving. You know it's not like Grand Theft Auto, right?
6. Someone should invent an app that senses your mood (a modern day mood ring) and communicates those findings electronically so I know what to expect before I get home from work.
7. I live in a constant state of uncertainty as to how much to provide for you. You demand regular feedings and clean clothes, which is a drag, but do you really need a Spanish class trip to Costa Rica?
8. I haven't known the names of your teachers since you left elementary school. I just feel good when I know what classes you're taking. I hate back-to-school night when they imply I should know about your big writing assignment or end-of-the-semester project. Not sure who's to blame. You for not telling me anything, or me for failing to ask.
9. Speaking of your classwork, I know that you know that I haven't known how to help you with your math homework since 2nd grade. So stop asking. 
10. While I will enjoy your room being free of dirty dishes, dirty clothes, and toxic spills, I won't enjoy not having you here (that's a double negative, isn't it?). To be honest, as far as teenagers go, you're pretty awesome. 

Do you have your own confessions to share? Poor parenting loves company!

Putting an End to the Nightmare that is Gym Class

Television, radio, websites and publications — in nearly every form of entertainment there is something that appeals to our individual interests, quirks and passions. There’s no reason to be like everyone else or even engage with anyone else when it can so easily be all about you. By immersing ourselves in that which fits our personality, IQ and emotional needs, we can be assured that no harm will come to our confidence, self-esteem or self-image.

With this in mind, three years ago in “Food for Thought,” I suggested that supermarkets designate lanes based on the kinds of food a customer buys. That way, those of us who purchase crap loaded with preservatives and artificial sweeteners won’t feel badly about ourselves when we’re in line with the organic health food buyer. I’m sorry to say that I have yet to see a grocery store implement this excellent idea. I can practically guarantee they’d enjoy an impressive customer base and strong sales.

Along those lines, today I would like to propose separate gym classes based on body type, athletic ability and basic level of fitness. And I recommend that these segmented classes begin as early as kindergarten so those of us who require remedial hand-eye coordination activities will not find ourselves ostracized during snack time. The reasons for despising gym class tend to vary from age to age and person to person, but the end result is always the same: emotional scarring, night terrors related to dodgeball and long-term aversion to anything physical.

For some, what they most loathe about the experience of phys ed is the actual performance part. Run a mile in 6:30. Finish 10 pull-ups. Catch this ball. Walk in a straight line. These requirements can be brutal and cause one to break out in tears hives at the mere mention. Others may not dread the activities so much, but find undressing in front of their peers is a fate worse than death. Are you as well “developed” as your classmates? Are you clean shaven? Did you forget today was P.E. and wear your Thomas the Train briefs? This is the stuff that keeps therapists in business. That, and our parents.

Personally, I still have nightmares about the choosing of teams in gym class. Who in the world thought it was a good idea to put a couple of kids (usually insensitive bastards athletes) in charge of picking teams? While you can try to blend in with a group of fellow gym class haters for the activities themselves, or disappear in a toilet stall to avoid comparing bra sizes, when you’re lined up against the wall for team selection there’s absolutely nowhere to hide. As each captain starts calling names and the wallflower lineup gets shorter and shorter, it’s basically the equivalent of someone shouting, “We don’t want Shimer! She’s the worst athlete ever!” I was usually chosen second to last, saved only by the significantly overweight kid or the one on crutches.  Good memories.

My simple solution, separating kids into appropriate groups, has the potential to be life-changing. Imagine no more…
• mysterious illnesses on gym class days
• terror at the prospect of playing dodge ball with the football players in your class
• standing alone against the wall like the girl who never gets asked to dance
• shame at wearing granny panties
• fear of ridicule when you fall over your own two feet at the starting line
• hyperventilating when you run out of air during those aptly named “suicides”
• concern that you’re overweight, underweight, undersized or oversized
• costly long-term therapy to address issues of self-esteem

With separate gym classes all kids can feel comfortable in their own skin. There will be no pressure to improve skills, get in shape, lose weight or talk mom into buying you appropriate underwear. Simply put, gym class, high school, and the world in general will be a kinder, gentler place. Now that's something worth cheering for!

I'm Getting Queasy on this Emotional Rollercoaster

There have been teenager sightings in my home recently. (And they don't all have long hair and play ice hockey.) I realize I'm quite lucky that it took a couple years for the behavior of a certain someone to catch up to his age, but unfortunately, I did not use that extra time to effectively prepare. Perhaps more disconcerting than the increasing tendency to mope, mumble, and spread misery, or anger easily and rage over Xbox FIFA team performance, is the equal likelihood that within a matter of minutes hours this person will revert back to his funny, charming self. And like all men, once he's back to normal, there will be no indication or acknowledgement that he had embodied Mr. Hyde just moments before. And I thought I my personality was erratic.

While I haven't figured out the best way to react to the Hyde episodes in my teen's life, I have read enough to know that all this craziness is apparently quite normal. I also know:

1. Asking what's wrong will either be a waste of time or a sure-fire way to frustrate your teen when in all honesty he doesn't know exactly what's wrong...other than everything
2. As hard as it is, you can't take your child's behavior personally. Even though you may have contributed to his rotten mood when you forbade him to play any computer games after he failed to put away his clean laundry again, this mood isn't all your fault.
3. When this person formally known as your little boy returns to his pleasant Dr. Jekyll status, do not ask "What the hell is going on with you? It's like you're Jekyll and Hyde and the roller coaster ride I'm on with you is making me nauseous." Nope. Don't say that. Just enjoy what most likely will be only a brief return to sanity normalcy.
4. If your teen has not been particularly successful in his latest competitive endeavor, do not pull out your trophies for the same activity and show him how great you were. This will not cheer him up.
5. While at one time it might have been amusing for you to embarrass him in front of his friends, once the serious instability begins, it's best to avoid doing anything that could set him off. Like write a blog post about him, for instance.

All despair, confusion, and frustration kidding aside, the toughest part of seeing the true teenager emerge from your child is the helplessness you feel while you stand by and watch. You get it. You've been there. And unfortunately, there's little you can do to make it all better. In fact, just trying to make it all better could result in your demon spawn teen telling you to leave him the hell alone suggesting this is something he will have to handle on his own. And sometimes, he's right. The boy-girl stuff, strained friendships, the challenge of schoolwork, and the demands of extra-curriculars are issues he will need to experience and struggle through in order to grow. But sometimes the sadness or anger comes from a place where he can't and shouldn't have to navigate it all on his own. 

The past year has made me realize that the after-school specials of our youth weren't based on someone's imagination. I might have been blissfully unaware of the struggles some of my classmates experienced when I was in high school, but now I've learned first hand that this stuff happens.Teens in our community deal with bullying, eating disorders, and mental illness. And that's on top of the challenges of divorced parents, the pressure to succeed, and the standard navigation through issues of drinking, drugs, and sexual behavior. You couldn't pay me to go back there. 

While no one would ever accuse me of being Mother of the Year, I think I'm doing a few things right as I help the precious not-so-little split-personality boy in my life. You may want to take my lead:

1. Ask if he'd like to hear your advice, suggestions or insights before you offer them. Believe it or not, once in a great while he'll answer "yes."
2. Share some horribly embarrassing story from your own teen years to make him feel better about his own. 
3. Offer a hug, but only when out of site of everyone he knows.
4. Allow him to read the 10+ years worth of journals that you started when you were 12 so he'll know exactly from whom he inherited his emotional instability
5. Let him scream at the television or video game, but pull the plug when it sounds as though his head might explode and/or he starts to throw things.
6. Suggest he put his feelings into a poem which he might want to share at the coffee shop the next time Mr. Mendell's class gathers for poetry night.
7. Guilt him back into Dr. Jekyll form by crying and asking where your sweet, loving child has gone.
8. Tell him he'd better square his sh*t away or you'll write a blog post about him.
9. Direct him to take all his drama to the community theater.
10. Remind him for the umpteenth time that you love him and that you're there for him if and when he wants to talk.

I think #10 might be the best advice you'll ever get from me. I better stop there.

If you have anything to add, would love to hear it!

Just One of Those Days

My first moment of peace all day. Our summer fun facilitator's (SFF) last hurrah was Tuesday and I've been home alone going stark raving mad with my children since then. Today was "one of those days." One of those days that only parents of pre-driving age children can relate to. One of those days that makes me think I need a summer-fall-winter-spring facilitator to manage my children and their schedules. I believe rich people call them nannies.

I mentioned in my introduction to Summer and Shane (our 2012 SFFs) that one thing I particularly appreciate about my summer help is the errand running and children shuttling. I despise both of those things. Basically anything that requires me to get into the car for something other than work, the movies, or dinner out is a major imposition. Today I had the pleasure of adding one other thing I detest into the errand running/kid shuttling mix: WAITING. I don't wait well and today included waiting to the extreme.

The plan for my morning was simple enough. The Silvertone's (the high school group Ian sings with) was performing at our school district convocation in the morning. The director told me to be there by 8:45 a.m. and that it would end by 9:30. Because I'm always punctual, particularly when Abby's nagging me, we were there right on time. We entered the auditorium and the high school's drumline was already on stage. The rest of the 300+ kids in the band filed in. It was a sight to behold and the sounds were as spectacular as one has grown to expect from one of the greatest high school bands in the state. We were off to an excellent start.

After the band performed, the Silvertones took the stage where they performed a moving rendition of the nationl anthem, followed by "Happy Birthday" for one of the teachers in the audience. Good stuff.

And then they left the stage. And Abby and I stood along the back wall of the auditorium to wait for them to reappear. And we stood. And we stood. And we stood some more. Around 10:00 a.m., more than an hour later for those of you who don't want to do the math, the Silvertones came back and performed "What a Wonderful World." And then they sat down on the stage, suggesting a short break before their next song. And Abby and I stood and waited. And we stood. And we stood. And we stood some more. Around 10:45 a.m. the Silvertones rose and perfomed Adele's "Rolling in the Deep." It was almost, but not quite, worth the wait.

We asked Ian if he could leave with us so I wouldn't have to come back and pick him up. He first shot me dagger looks for speaking to him while in the company of his fellow performers, then he said "no."  He couldn't leave. Abby and I headed home. We walked in the front door and as I set down my keys my phone rang. You guessed it. Ian was ready to be picked up.

An hour later he required a ride to his afternoon babysitting gig.  An hour after that, Abby required a ride to her orthodontist appointment where we sat and waited for an insignificant (compared to our morning) 30 minutes.

An hour later Abby required a ride to soccer. She couldn't go in the carpool because the other driver has a problem with punctuality and Abby won't tolerate being late. I dropped her off at soccer practice at 3:45 p.m., called Ian to see if he was ready to be picked up from babysitting (just a few blocks away). He said no. I went home. I walked in the front door and as I set down my keys my phone rang. You guessed it. Ian was ready to be picked up. I kid you not.

And all this is just a precursor to my life for the next nine months. Ian has 7 a.m. rehearsals daily and plans on joining debate team. Abby will have band rehearsals, plus soccer practices and weekly games. And God knows how many clubs she'll join when she arrives at the middle school next week.

 

I'm up for the challenge though. In fact, apparently I'm so squared away and in control of my life that I'm hosting an exchange student come the second half of the school year. I think a 16-year-old French speaking Canadian who will probably play soccer and/or volleyball and require rides to and from practice is just what I need. Best of all, the Rotary Club tells me I also have to feed her while she's living with us. Good times are a comin!

I know some of you crazy parents with more than two kids have it way worse than me, but it helps just to get it all out. And a bottle of wine helps a good deal also.

Enjoy your Labor Day weekend. The fun is just about to begin!

Back to School Preparation Analysis (aka, Why You Couldn't Go to the Movies with Me)

It has come to my attention that I should be getting ready for school.

This morning, in an effort to escape a dreary day of toilet cleaning, laundry folding, and catering to a sick kid (who damn well better be feeling fine for school tomorrow), I sent out an APB to my so-called friends in search of a date for a matinee showing of "Our Idiot Brother." In more than one instance, I got the lame excuse was told that they were too busy "getting ready for school tomorrow."

This either means:

1. My friend(s) just didn't want to spend time with me and back-to-school preparations seemed like a legitimate excuse;
2. My friend(s) wanted to spend time with their child(ren) as part of an end-of-summer last hurrah that I could in no way identify with;
3. My friend(s) has serious organizational challenges and therefore requires a minimum of 12 hours prep for any activity involving more than brushing ones teeth
4. I am up the creek without a paddle and bound to be completely overwhelmed at 6:30 a.m. tomorrow morning

I really don't think the correct answer is #4. In my eight years of back-to-school experience, getting ready has involved:

• School supplies. This is generally done well in advance if your child nags you about it like mine does.  Even if you waited till the day before school, this should take an hour, tops. 
• A backpack. Often part of the back to school supplies. Hint: Buy Land's End or L.L. Bean and the same backpack you had last year will be good to go. 
• The back-to-school outfit. If you only have a son(s), this doesn't apply to you. With girls, back-to-school clothes shopping should definitely be done well ahead of time. If you waited till the last minute for this, I understand why you can't go to the movies, and I'm glad I'm not you. 
• Signing papers. Regardless of all the technological advancements we have made in the past few decades, school administrative paperwork is still stuck in the dark ages. If you waited until today to tackle these forms, they should take you ten minutes. Longer if you actually read what you're signing and give serious consideration to emergency contacts.
• Grocery shopping for school lunches. School lunch items should have been part of your regular shopping trip last week. If you want to go to the movies and have no school lunch food in the house, tell the kid(s) to buy what the cafeteria is serving tomorrow. I've heard great things about school lunches these days.
• Making school lunches. Unless, God help you, you have seven school-age children, lunches should not take more than 15 minutes to make. Of course, I'm assuming you're not baking the bread, grinding the peanuts, and stomping the grapes yourself.

Based on this to-do list, as long as you didn't wait till today to buy the back-to-school outfit, "getting ready for back-to-school" should take no more than 80 minutes. 

Let's say you're a little more neurotic involved than I am. You might need to add time for:

• Laying out clothes for your child to wear tomorrow. If you're still doing this, stop. Let the kid express him/herself, even if it means nothing matches. If you are a control freak/my sister must do this, it shouldn't require more than 10 minutes of your time. Or else your child has way too many clothes.
• Bathing/showering. Even with time spent de-tangling Rapunzel's hair, I hope your child doesn't require more than 30 minutes in the bathroom. 
• Parental self-preparation. Okay, let's say you need to iron your clothes (but who does that, besides Doug Fischer?), review your work itinerary, and make yourself a lunch (good for you, saving money that way), that's maybe an hour.
• Devotions/prayer/quiet time. If you're upset about the little ones going off to school, get over it you may need some quiet time for reflection. You may want to look at photo albums and get misty-eyed over the good old days when they were still suckling at mother's breast. Don't do this for more than two hours, please, or we'll need to stage an intervention.

We'll take my 85 minutes and add a generous 220 minutes in case you're a little nutty. That comes to 305 minutes or roughly 5 hours. If you require five hour of prep time to get your kids on the bus in the morning, well, words just can't describe what advice I'd like to give you right now. I would, however, say you still could have spared two hours to go to the movies with me, especially since I'll be the one you'll call after the kids decide they'd rather die than be seen in public with you. 

 Just sayin'.

P.S. Never did go to the movies. 

Back to School at 40+

I loved college. I loved it so much that I went to grad school less than a year after finishing my bachelor's degree. And then, only a year into my first real job in advertising in New York City, I decided I'd rather be in school again. I quit and went back for a PhD, expecting I would become a college professor (though I left after a year to return home to get married, be near family and settle in to the ho-hum life of a suburban soccer mom). I'm sure you'll say I was just avoiding the real world by staying in school, but I also loved everything about the college experience. The atmosphere. The culture. The professors. The books. The bars. Oh, and the learning.

This week I'm completing a "mini-MBA" in social media marketing at Rutgers University, thanks to the generosity of my employer who has taken note of my interest in Facebook, blogging, webinars, and all things virtually social. It's a one-week accelerated course designed to help me create and implement a social media strategy for Judson Press and the American Baptist Home Mission Societies. The instructors are leaders in the field and the course is packed with everything one could hope to know to be cutting edge in social media. We even get an iPad2 out of the deal, which I'm very excited about, assuming I can figure out how to turn it on.

You're probably thinking I must have been deliriously excited to return to school, but in reality, I was anxious. Would the other students be younger, smarter, and more technologically adept? Would I feel overwhelmed?  Would there be group projects? Will I be tested? What about networking? I know I should network but I hate networking. Will the teachers be nice? Most importantly, what should I wear? Is this like real college where I can wear sweats and a baseball cap, or should I dress like I'm going to a business event? All very important questions.

Well, it turns out that I'm comfortably holding my own in my previous knowledge of social media. And I'm right in the middle of the pack age-wise. Everyone else (at least all the women) also wondered what to wear (I erred on the side of caution with khakis on day one). They're all friendly enough that the networking thing isn't so scary (we've even got happy hour on the schedule for after class today). The teachers are nice but kooky (as most college profs are). And yes, there's a group project and presentation but I think I'll be okay.

Does this mean it's time for me to go back to school again? Alas, no. While a college campus was my happy place at one time, I can tell you that 20 years later it's just not the same. Maybe it's because I'm at Rutgers University's Livingston campus where there are no ivy-covered or brick buildings to make me nostalgic. Maybe it's cause I'm too old (and married) to flirt with the freshmen should I see any. Maybe it's because I'm working a full time job, have two children, a husband, and a home to look after and I'm too damn tired to read and study at the end of the evening. I know my mother-in-law will be disappointed (she really wanted to be able to tell people her daughter-in-law was a "doctor"), but I don't see that completed PhD in my future.

So how about you? Have you gone back to the classroom after a long absence? Was it the same? Was it better? Was something missing? Share!

Back to the Business of School

Alrighty. My fans My readers MaryAnn told me I needed to make my next blog post funny after the tearjerker that I offered last time. Will funny at my kids' expense do it for you, MaryAnn?

The obligatory first day of school picture

Here's a snapshot of life in "back-to-school" mode here at the MacShimer house:

• The back to school shopping list is always an irritating way to start the year. And I'm not talking about the traditional first day of school outfit and backpack. No, I'm referring to the school-dictated supply list that seems to get longer every year. How is it we spend a gazillion dollars a year on school taxes yet we have to provide for the classroom or our child:

• Baby wipes
• Cleaning wipes
• 2 boxes of tissues
• Zip loc bags
• Composition book, writing paper, graphing paper
• Folders
• Dry erase markers, regular markers, highlighters, colored pencils, regular pencils, and mechanical pencils
• Protractor
• And more stuff I can't remember off the top of my head.
• Abby kicked off the year spending hours creating the most awesome "Me" bag ever, her first assignment. This was preceded by a daring attempt to complete an entire summer math packet (more than 30 pages long) in just the last couple weeks of summer. She darn near finished it, too.
• Ian announced after the first day at school that he was going to hate the entire year because "none of my friends, except Hannah, are in any of my classes." I found out later this was an exaggeration. So unlike him.
• Abby wore a Hatfield hot dog hat to school yesterday because "my teacher wore a hamburger hat" the day before. And we know hot dogs and hamburgers go together. 
• Ian is joining the fencing team this year with a coach who is not only a former Olympian in the sport, but also claims to be part "pixie." Seriously.
• At back to school night, Abby's teacher described her as "highly motivated," and noted she "raises her hand for everything." Abby said the teacher never calls on her. Teacher annoyed with know-it-all over-eager student already?
• Ian had his first official meltdown over homework today. Asked me for help on his math assignment (insert emphatic "You must be kidding" response here). I suggested calling someone from his class for help but he declined. Instead, he prefers to just "drop out of enriched math." Claims it's too much for him. 
• $90+ Texas Instruments graphing calculator was too much for me (and that was for a used one on Ebay), but I bit the bullet and bought it. You're sticking with math, kiddo.
• Abby shed tears today because the teacher marked an answer on her in-class worksheet wrong. Abby says she's certain it's correct (and based on my limited subtraction skills, I think Abby's right). Only perfect worksheets get stickers and stickers are collectible. Abby doesn't want to bring it to the teacher's attention for fear of seeming like a know-it-all (see bullet point above).
• Ian has already lost misplaced one house key, less than two full weeks into the school year.

We've got our work cut out for us here, but it's all worth it when mom catches a look at Ian's first writing assignment for his "Journeys" language arts program:

I am funny and smart

I wonder if there is life on other planets

I hear the sound of the keyboard and my sister watching TV

I see the sights of the world from Google earth

I want to see the sites in person

I am funny and smart

I pretend I am good at sports

I feel a new insect in my hands as I make a great discovery

I touch the world around me

I worry about the environment

I cry about dead things

I am funny and smart

I understand that I am not perfect

I say God's Word is true

I dream about getting lost

I try to do well in sports

I hope there is life in the universe besides us

I am funny and smart.

(used by permission!)