I'm a pen and paper person.  A planner girl to the end. 

Even in this day and age of hand held devices which coordinate and connect with the touch of a finger, I prefer the good, old fashioned searching for the pen amongst the clutter on my desk to mark a date on the calendar.  I thrive on the anticipation of turning on my computer to discover a new e-mail and then, writing down the important details.

I get just as excited standing in an aisle of untouched, blank planners as some women get walking into the Nordstrom's Half Year Sale.  I admit, it's a more strange fetish, but far less expensive. I'll gladly pass on those pricey "mother" organizers that expect me to even consider what could be for dinner days from now.  And I certainly don't need a line per family member.  I've got my own system.  Just give me the plain old white boxes with the black lines. 

To me, those boxes and lines represent opportunity.  Organization.  It fits with the way I am wired. And I sort of assumed that Big Guy, being so much like me, would have inherited this desire to write everything down.  Well, you know what they say about making assumptions.

Each year, Big Guy's school generously supplies him with a planner.  And each year, the planner has served as backpack filler.  Never to be opened, just transported back and forth.

Year after year, I questioned why Big Guy was opposed to the planner. He'd tell me that he wasn't. It was just that he preferred to use his own system.  The "it's all in my head" system.  A system great in theory, not in reality.  For in reality, his system had resulted in numerous laps around the block as we pulled back up to school to grab a forgotten book.

I know; I should have let natural consequences take their course.  As a parent, we know there is no better lesson.  But the helicopter parent in me could not be completely suppressed. Instead, I would give Big Guy a window. As long as he remembered what he had forgotten before we crossed the main road, I'd go back.

And I did. Many times, all the while trying to understand his unwillingness to embrace the planner. Why couldn't he see that this was the key to solving his forgotten homework problems?

Heading into this school year, I promised myself I would back off Big Guy.  I'd stop preaching about what I thought he should do and let nature take its course.  I'd ask him about his assignments - one time only - as we walked to the car and then, once we pulled away, not return to school.

Lately, I couldn't help but notice we hadn't been back to retrieve a left behind book.  Perhaps his method was working out better this year.  Maybe it was time I gave credit where credit was due. So this week, I sat down next to Big Guy, who was diligently working on his homework.  

He seemed so focused. So mature. And then, I spotted it.  The brand new planner.  Finally, out of the backpack.  Sitting on the kitchen table.

My urge to peek was overwhelming.  I was curious.  It was a new year. A new schedule. Maybe something had changed.

I casually reached for it, opening it slowly. And to my delight, there was writing in it. Lots of writing. He was a planner person after all!

I started to gush with joy. Almost explain to him how much easier his school life would be. How I could even help him fill it with birthdays, days off and hockey practice. Instead, I bit my tongue and just asked, "Why did you start using a planner?"

And he responded, "This year, I need it."

Sometimes they learn the most when we finally stop talking. 

Illyse appears Thursdays on TriangleMom2Mom.