It is mid August, and with a flurry of backpacks, school supplies, new tennis shoes and lunch boxes, another school year has commenced. I remember when I had three in elementary. There were so many papers coming and going: class letters from the teachers, drawings and math worksheets and book reports from the kids, that they threatened to take over the kitchen, even multiplying overnight under cover of darkness. My method of maintaining order may seem simplistic and antiquated, but it was highly effective. 

I started a new trilogy of files (because I have three kids) at the beginning of another school year. Each child would have his name and grade and sometimes, the name of his teacher as well, written on one drawer. I placed this set of files in my laundry room, just off the kitchen. At the end of the school day, the kids and I would go through their backpacks and pull out the papers. Anything that needed further attention or that I felt had sentimental value, got placed into the drawers. The rest were set aside, to recycle out of sight of the kids. As the year went along, if the drawers started getting full, I would occasionally cull through the papers. It was so difficult to get rid of anything the sweet munchkins produced, but the reality is that twenty years out, one drawer file from each grade is more than enough to represent your kid's scholastic progress. 

At the end of the year, I would place the final report cards on the top of the stack. I did this throughout their preschool and elementary years. Being more pragmatic than sentimental, I placed these units into storage without a second thought. Recently my new daughter-in-law and I were searching through our storage area for a large pot for canning jars of salsa. We did not find the pot, but our eyes were immediately drawn to these files. Of course Tiffany and I pulled out all of drawers spanning Christopher's elementary years, for her to take home so they could peruse through the files together. Tiffany was so appreciative for this peek into a young Christopher's world! They said they laughed a lot as they went through the pages. 

Fasten your seatbelt for a trip down memory lane, my kids' school year of 2000-2001, the first year that all three were at Chattanooga Christian School.  The big news in the world (I mean at CCS) that year was that the guys' basketball team won state! Our family went to a lot of the local games and even followed them to Nashville for the finals. We have a basketball signed by all the team members.

Chris was a fourth grader that year, in Mrs. Levenger's class. Here is how he described himself on the first day of school:

Grandparents Day was held annually at CCS, early in November. It was always an awkward day for our kids, since both my parents were dead and Larry's folks lived far away in Ohio. In 2000, with all three in school, we flew Ralph and Sarah to Chattanooga, so that at least once, our children could honor their grandparents on that special day. It meant so much to all of us!

All fourth graders learned to play the recorder under the tutelage of elementary music teacher, Mr. Will Davis. The kids learned at their own pace. When they had learned a piece well enough, they went individually to Mr. Davis's music room, to play the piece for him. The child would stand beside him on the right, where he stood at the podium, with the music; he would start tapping the beat with his right foot and the child would put their left foot on top of his and then play the recorder to the shared tempo. It was heartwarming to watch. Christopher was obsessed with learning new songs and by Christmas, had graduated to a bigger, more advanced recorder. Mr. Davis fostered his love and gave him opportunities to shine. At the end of the year, I was inspired to write this poem for him: (Lauren was practicing writing her name at the top.)

Lauren was in Mrs. Cox's second grade class. Early in the year, her friend, Chelsea, sent Lauren this letter, orchestrating their recess activity:

Each student kept a journal all year, mostly writing about their weekend adventures. Here is an entry from Lauren's:

We had a twenty minute commute to school each day. Occasionally, on the drive in, we would make up poems and silly limericks. Here is the poem that Lauren and I wrote together at the end of her school year, highlighting some of the things she most enjoyed about being Mrs. Cox's student. 

Kindergarteners start off as babies, who fall asleep on their mats at naptime; by the end of the year, they are reading and writing scholars! It is an impressive transformation. 

Sometimes Larry or I would add a surprise note in our kids' packed lunch. Perhaps it was a joke, an unusual fact to share with friends, or just a term of endearment. Here is one from Dad to Derek, when Larry was headed out of town:

Over spring break, our family vacationed in Sarasota, Florida. Along with visiting relatives, we stayed on the beach at a tennis resort. 

We did some shell gathering on the beach. Some of the larger ones that we found still had critters inside with legs poking out. I told the kids they needed to leave them outside the door of our condo, rather than bringing them inside. Despite our encouraging comments that no one would take them, Lauren was quite worried someone would steal the precious shells. She made this sign, and placed it with the seashells:

The next morning, I discovered that Derek had been showing off his kindergarden writing skills. I found Lauren's sign had been turned over and now read:

I hope that I have inspired some of you parents of young school kids to organize and save carefully; it is a wonderful feeling with adult children, to be able to relive those golden (tiring!) days.