EDUCATION

Last September, a shiny new student agenda came home with my then 12-year-old son. It was emblazoned with the school name and a jazzy 3-D hologram of Canadian flags. We pored over all the neat information and cool Canadian factoids inside.

“We have to write in it every day,” he said, full of enthusiasm. He showed me where he had already written his name, in his best cursive, and listed his tasks for the week. “I’m really going to keep it up this year. Honest.”

By November, that agenda was somewhat less pristine. The hologram maple leaves were now replete with googly eyes and moustaches. Page after page was blank, or filled with cryptic doodles like “Robot chicken lives!” and “Dork-nob!” The book itself was shaped like a standing wave, and the spiral binding was partially unwound. It should have been banned from school as a serrated weapon.

January arrived. Andrew had no idea when his report on States of Matter was due because his agenda had been lost under a pile of smelly hockey gear for a week. (He hadn’t written down any to-do’s in weeks, anyway.) It was time to start calling his friends (again). Surprise — none of them could find their agendas either.

And then came May. Agenda? What agenda?

Originally published in Today's Parent, November 2007