This post is part of Thirty Things That Help.
Deal with paper at a distance
Sometimes I think with envy of times gone by when paper was expensive and pencils were worth looking after. There’s a powerful bit in Percival Everett’s James where an enslaved person dares to steal a pencil, which is dangerous not only because it provides proof of their literacy, but because the pencil will definitely be missed. Today most of us wouldn’t notice if someone stole a pencil from our homes. (Although, as a previous post proved, many of us are perpetually short of pencils. Maybe pencil theft is a huge and unreported problem?).
Paper and pencils are cheap, and our children can draw and write to their heart’s content. I’m not complaining, but what is one supposed to do with all the resulting creative output?
When one of my children first wrote me a note saying ‘I luv yoo’ I knew I would treasure it forever. But then they started writing me such notes a dozen times a day. Truly, my delight remains undiminished, but I just can’t keep all that paper!
Together my children have produced thousands of pictures of fighting ninja, battling soldiers, jungle animals, geometric patterns, beloved family members, puppies, snowstorms… I know that some parents are able to just chuck all this into the recycling bin each day, but I am far too soft for that. Here’s what I do instead:
I put it all in a pile, somewhere out of sight. 99% of the time the children never want to look at it again by the time they wake up the next day. I continue doing this for weeks or months, until the towering pile becomes a health and safety risk. Then one evening, when the children are asleep (it is imperative you are not caught in the act), I sort through it all. At a distance, it is much easier to bin fifty ninja pictures and keep the best two. The special things jump out at you and everything else can go, safe in the knowledge that it won’t be missed.
In our house, the bits of paper that we keep get glued into a blank workbook (this kind of thing), which cunningly means that hundreds of loose pieces of paper can be condensed into one neat and tidy book.
I think for children the joy is often in the moment of creation, not in the ownership of the creation forever more. There’s probably a beautiful lesson in that for all of us, but for now, just pile your paper high and deal with it at a distance.
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The image for this post is by Alexander Grey via Unsplash.
I don't always agree and as a retired public school teacher (in Ma) IK have trouble with homeschooling. But I find your writing fascinating. Keep it up.
“I think for children the joy is often in the moment of creation, not in the ownership of the creation forever more.” I agree! I have started doing some very basic arts and crafting in the evenings in order to use another part of my brain (the part that is not full of words) and the joy is in creation. I just throw it away afterwards. There’s a real freedom in this- a bit like Julia Cameron telling people to throw away their morning pages.