Harper's new phone buzzed on the kitchen counter at 7:14 on Monday night. It was Ben, texting from the living room, about twelve feet away, to see whether she'd answer. She did, with a thumbs-up, a picture of the ceiling and "hi dad" four more times, and then the two of them texted each other for twenty minutes while I stood between them folding towels.
Sixth grade starts August 6. Harper is going from the top of an elementary school, where she knew every hallway and every lunch lady, to the bottom of a middle school with lockers, a bus that comes before 7 and a band room. We spent July getting three things ready: the supply list, a phone decision we'd been putting off for two years and one calendar that all three of us actually use.
The supply list
The list came out in early July. It's one page, longer than fifth grade's but not by much:
- Five composition notebooks
- Two 1.5-inch binders with dividers
- Three packs of loose-leaf paper
- Pencils, blue and black pens, highlighters and colored pencils
- Index cards
- Wired earbuds
- A basic calculator
- Tissues and hand sanitizer for homeroom
We already own the calculator, the colored pencils, one binder and a pencil pouch Harper describes as "fine for now." The backpack has one more year in it, a statement that earned me a long, slow eye roll. We're buying the rest in one trip on Saturday, August 1, and holding back anything teacher-specific until the first week, because elementary school taught me that half of every list changes once you meet the teacher.
She's also starting band on clarinet, which we're renting, plus gym clothes the school requires. All of it goes on the August tab of the spreadsheet in one place, so I can see the full start-of-school number instead of finding it in pieces.
The phone we finally said yes to
For two years, every time she asked, we said "middle school." Then it was middle school. The real reasons we said yes now are practical: a bus stop at the end of our street before 7 a.m., band after school some days and two parents who aren't always reachable at the same moment, between Ben's late clinic nights and my office days in Huntsville.
She got a basic smartphone, about $160, and a line that added $25 a month to our phone bill. It came with rules, written down and signed by all three of us at the kitchen table:
- The phone charges in the kitchen from 8:45 p.m. until morning. Never in her room.
- No social media. We'll talk about it again at 13, and that's a conversation, not a promise.
- Contacts are people we know in real life.
- We know the passcode, and we can see where the phone is.
- If something on it makes her uncomfortable, she tells us, and she is never in trouble for telling us.
Ben was the holdout for most of last year. Rule one was his condition, and his summary was, "She gets a phone. The phone doesn't get her." Harper's only question about the whole contract was whether she could pick her own ringtone. She could. It's a duck.
From the HR side, I'll admit I borrowed the format from every policy acknowledgment I ever collected: short rules, plain words, a signature. The difference is that this one gets reviewed every August, and the employee is allowed to argue.
One calendar for three people
For years our family has run on a paper schedule on the fridge, and that isn't going anywhere. But this fall has more moving parts than ever: band, Tuesday piano, soccer practice on Tuesdays and Thursdays with Ben coaching, Grandma Carol's Wednesdays, my office days and Ben's two late nights. So we set up one shared calendar on our phones, with a color for each person. Harper picked purple, obviously.
- If it isn't on the calendar by Sunday night, it doesn't exist.
- Each person enters their own things. Harper adds band and anything a teacher sends home.
- Anything that needs a ride gets the driver's name in the title. No more "I thought you had her."
Harper's first three entries were her first day of school, the day we pick up the clarinet and, in March, "MOOSE'S GOTCHA DAY" in all capital letters. I'm told it's important. She's ready, or close to it. I'm the one checking the bus time twice a day.
