HEART & SOUL : If mother is befuddled, organized angels help
Posted on Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Some mothers have the organization stuff down. They handle the startof-school scheduling, paperwork and lists with aplomb. For these women, the first day of school doesn’t loom, it simply arrives.
Not for me.
For me, the school year begins with terror. The first official thing parents do is accompany their children to the giant organizational event where class schedules, locker numbers, planners and such are distributed. This isn’t just getting pieces of paper. This is running a gantlet of lines, forms and fees. This is when and where the full organizational weight of school is felt. For moms like me, it’s crushing.
On schedule day, I’m supposed to steer my 14-year-old son gently back into school mode, reassure him that I’m on top of the details, and generally be his rock. Problem is, I’m not very rocklike. I’m more soft-clumpof-moss-like. Fortunately, he sails through these challenges with good humor and an easygoing nature. Meanwhile, I’m a puddle.
Puddle or not, on schedule day we boldly entered the school. “This way,” I told him firmly, and headed for the cafeteria. To my relief, the cafeteria was populated by a host of those angel moms who not only excel at the whole organizational thing, but have enough empathy for those who don’t to volunteer to help. Sure enough, the first angel mother gently pointed me in the correct direction — back. We’d been there 20 seconds and we’d already missed the first stop.
Back out we went, and waited for directions from the second angel mom.
“Here’s your packet, and your blue form,” she explained kindly. “Take your blue form to the first table and verify or change your address. They’ll stamp the blue form and give you the health form. Fill out the health form and take it to the nurse. She’ll take it and stamp the blue form.
“ Take your stamped blue form to the schedule desk. They’ll check it and give you two copies of your schedule and confirm you have the right lunch period. Use one copy for Parent Night, and keep the other for your use on first day.” There was more, much more, but you get the drift. Somewhere in there my son placed his hand reassuringly on my arm, right above the elbow, as if to let me know that he could catch me if I fell. He knew that while angel mom No. 2 was on “lockers,” I was still on “blue form to the nurse.” Or was that “health form to the nurse” ?
We walked to the cafeteria.
“Breathe,” my soon-to-be-ninth- grader whispered with a grin.
I nodded, not sure when the role reversal happened but relieved it did. In short order we navigated the first three lines with relative ease. At each one, smiling angel moms guided us kindly to the next station. At desk No. 3, angel mom Lisa, a friend, waited with an understanding look. She knows me, I was thinking, so it’s OK.
Sure enough, Lisa explained her section slowly, carefully and then, recognizing that look on my face, explained it again. Two copies of schedule in hand, I left her desk breathing so normally and feeling so confident that I told my son to go and talk to his friends. I’d handle the rest.
“You sure ?” he said, unconvinced.
“Go on !” I told him.
Two desks later, Paula, the queen of angel moms, saw me coming. Paula doesn’t just look organized, she emanates organization. Without waiting for that look to cross my face, she took the well-stamped blue form from my hand and helped me check off all but one remaining stop so I could write one check instead of four.
My son, who’d been visiting with friends, joined me in the last line of all, the cafeteria line. With the end in sight, my heart was light. “We did it,” I told him.
Just then, Paula tapped my arm. I turned.
“I’ve got an early Christmas present for you, Jennifer,” she said.
With a smile, she handed me what I’d left at her station — all my son’s forms, both copies of his schedule, his locker number and combo, his new school T-shirt, the receipt for my payments and my checkbook. She was grinning, and so was my son. “Good job, Mom,” he said, gently placing his hand back on my arm. Write to Jennifer Hansen at the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette, 515 Enterprise Drive, Suite 106, Lowell, Ark. 72745. E-mail her at jhansen@arkansasonline. com
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