![]() I can't come down on them too hard since anything that isn't in my phone, on my computer, or in my Google Apps accounts simply ceases to exist. Kid#2 or 3: It was about this story we had to read. ![]() Me: OK, well tell me what you remember about the essay question. Dinosaurus doesn't know how to post assignments on the Internet. Kid#2 or 3: I think I left that at school. Me: How about a rubric? So we know what the teacher is looking for in this paper. Kid #2 or 3 (it doesn't matter - the conversation is the same, although Kid #2 will tend to throw in a few more expletives): Hey, Dad, can you help me with this essay? This is a pretty frequent conversation in our house: Sometimes these papers are actually important. Another of my kids is a worse piler and pack rat than I am, struggling to find space for his laptop among piles of forgotten papers. I could open my own recycling plant with the sheer volume of paper that spews out of their backpacks, binders, and books. Plenty of people will disagree, but for my ADD-ridden brain, it's a worthless anachronism. It ends up crumpled at the bottom of my bag, in a pile on my desk (or whatever flat surface happens to be near me), recycled, or used as fuel to crank up the fireplace on a chilly day. ![]() Not just because it's usually made of dead trees, but also because I lose it. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |