One more week and school starts.

Yesterday, my son and I dutifully scrambled over to the middle school to get his schedule, locker, locks, gym uniform and all the stuff that gets done a few days before school starts.

When we stepped through the door, we found a barrage of mom-volunteers, lined up with clip boards and boxes, maps of the school, directives and summaries of where to go and what to do.  Bless their hearts.

The noise was deafening, as parents (mostly moms) and students clamored to drag in their wheelbarrows full of school supplies, divvied up into copious plastic bags from Target or Dollar General or Walmart.

Some remembered our son from elementary school.  “Don’t worry,” they all shouted, “you’ll love it here.”  Good thing I’m not going to school any more.  I already hate it.

As we lumbered up the “up” stair case and down the hall, I saw a frantic mom “wallpapering” a locker.  Seriously.  I glanced at my son.  “Don’t even think about it,” he said without slowing down.

Others were furiously unpacking their child’s supplies, taking plastic wrap off of folders and loading up lockers.

When we reached my son’s locker, we opened to a yawning empty abyss. He could barely reach the one and only top shelf.  To the right of us, a mom and daughter team had just finished their remodeling job.

Her locker looked like my first apartment.

It was decked out like a California Closets ad.  She had a mirror…at the perfect height, a small organizer on the door and on the back wall, shelving, decorations and a tiny chandelier hanging from the top. (My first apartment did NOT have a chandelier). Her books and binders were all lined up neatly on the shelves. She flipped her hair and looked at me.

I looked back at my son who had managed to throw all his Target bags on top of one another on the floor of his locker and was shoving at the door trying to get it to close.

“Where did you get all that?”  I asked the mom on the right, shouting above the din.  She was on her cell phone.  “Container Store!” she yelled back.  “And they only have 9 more left!  My friend is picking up more shelving for us!  Call right away and they might reserve one for you!”

I sighed. It’s been 40 years since I was anywhere near 6th grade. I was not driving 20 miles to the nearest Container Store.

We trudged home.  “Don’t you think it would be nice to have some of those shelves?” I asked.  “Yeah,” he said.  “That would probably help.”

To be honest, I did not even know what to google.  Locker shelving? Locker organization? Locker stackers, as I heard someone refer to them?  I called the nearest Staples.

“Do you have any shelves for lockers?”

“Oh yes!  We have lots of pink ones!”

“Do you have any other colors?”

“hmmm…let me see…ummm…yes there’s one black one.  Maybe one more in black.”

“Good! Hold it for me, I’ll be right over!”

I have often wondered why our son just simply does not have huge organizational skills.  I don’t wonder any more.  Apparently it’s genetic.

But I’ll say this much:  At least today in school I learned something.

Here’s a pinterest link to locker organizers!

Multi-hoop project is quilted, bound and finished.