“It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year. “

It’s that season. A time of year I dislike more than the sweltering heat and humidity of July, or the crazy rush of tourist traffic in December. Time for my son to do a MESP (Major Elementary School Project).

It started with an informational packet, and the words “It’s worth two major grades.” At first it seemed almost fun; Brandon brainstormed ideas (most fairly implausible), then decided (with Steve’s help) to invent a Bike Sun Shade, and the ball went rolling..

He worked on the project concept, and finished the packet bit by bit. Things seemed to be coming along well, until the weekend before it was due when he said the fateful words: “Sorry, I left my information packet at school.”

I managed to track down a class mother to ask for last minute directions. “The Invention Project?” she said, voice rising. “I’ve been arguing with my son about that damn thing for weeks!” She proceeded to tell me that although he had procrastinated, and she thought his idea was silly, she and her husband had insisted that he make it by himself. I waited politely until she got around to the part about the placement of the titles for the Board, since that will be part of my artistic endeavor for tonight while my husband is duct-taping the actual invention in our garage.

It’s not that I don’t believe in independence. I do, strongly. It’s just that I don’t think it’s fair to dump such a large amount of work on a child, any child, and expect him to do the thing on his own. I am a student of this kind of thinking. I remember well my mother reading portions of Tom Sawyer to me at our kitchen table (the night before my report was due), and prodding me on as I filled out one index card after another with chapter summaries. “Why didn’t you wait until the last minute?” she snapped, but she stayed up with me as late as it took, and we finished it, together. This episode repeated (in a slightly different version) the night before my “Distance Between the Planets” Science Project, (as my father cut and spray-painted Styrofoam balls at our kitchen counter). So, in a way, I’m just carrying on a family tradition of sorts, and there is a certain surge of energy as you write, cut and paste, forcing your lethargic child (who is trying to finish his dinner) to help you, or at least not leave the room.

Last night, we finished the project, collectively, and this morning his grandfather rode behind him as he bicycled to school. I had to drive and meet him there to hand him the Project Board. As he walked his bicycle down the hall (passing other ingenious inventions; a tubed cardboard box for disposing of cat litter, hamster sling, and bird car-wash), I saw a flush of pride on his face. When his friends gathered around to ask questions, exclaiming “Cool!” and “Awesome!” I saw his dimples as he pressed down a smile.

Maybe it was all worth it, I thought, snapping pictures. I told his teacher we barely survived this one. “Just wait a few weeks till Science Project time!” She smiled. I can hardly contain my excitement.