I sat down at the computer to write a story about recycling. My idea was to detail the towns latest rules and incentives for paper and plastic, and to reveal whether or not locals are really following them. But its the end of the school year, and my mind is on another category of valuable trash, so to speak: the piles upon piles of art projects my kids have proudly carried home over the past months.
I know I cant save every scrap of construction paper covered in pencil doodles forever. Even the drawings and paintings I consider masterpieces (My children are geniuses, of course. Arent yours?) number too many to frame and hang, or even to put in a box in the back of the closet. This is especially true when you take a long-term view. Two kids, an eventual seven years of elementary school (figure pre-K through fifth grade), an estimated three projects per week per kid look, I was never very good at math, but I know I dont have that kind of storage space.
Still, the thought of mixing my nine-year-old daughters lovely still life of yellow tulips with a stack of unwanted newspapers makes me feel positively sick. I would sooner have one of my sons crayon renderings of Darth Vader tattooed on my chest than crumple it up and throw it in a bin. I worry that my kids will be hurt if I callously toss their work away, but chances are these remnants of their early years will lose meaning for my children long before they do for me. When they are grown and gone, Ill be the one clinging to these memories, wishing the days when my little ones could barely sign their artwork hadnt flown by so quickly.
And so, for now, I leave the piles of paper and cardboard and Elmers glue untouched. The refrigerator remains covered with my childrens creativity. They probably wouldnt notice if I took a few drawings down and slipped them in with the rest of the recycling.
But I would.
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