Am I Taking On Too Much Work For The Upcoming School Year? Tips For Overcommitted Caregivers
The granola crumbs are still sticky on my kitchen table, and my chamomile tea went cold two hours ago. It’s 10:30 pm, the kids are asleep, and I’m staring at a stack of curriculum printouts, schedule printouts, sign-up confirmation emails, and a half-written 4-H meeting agenda that I stopped mid-sentence when the thought hit me: I might have taken on too much this year.
Last year, I did this same thing. I paged through all the pretty homeschool curriculum posts online, signed up for two co-op classes, agreed to lead the local elementary’s fall fundraiser, planted a 20-bed vegetable garden, and made a 12-month hands-on science challenge calendar that I was sure would make this the best year ever. By the second week of October, I yelled at my 10 year old for forgetting to write down his spelling words while I was trying to grade papers and stir pasta at the same time, and that night I crumpled the science calendar up and stuffed it in the back of the junk drawer. We spent the rest of the year cutting things one by one, and by May, we were having more fun than we’d had all September and October.
This morning, I got a text from my friend Liza, who’s a 3rd grade teacher at the local elementary. She wrote that she agreed to sponsor student council this year and lead an after-school book club, and she’s already having panic dreams about grading papers at 2 am. Turns out this worry isn’t just for homeschool parents scrambling to plan the year. It’s for classroom teachers taking on extra roles for a small stipend, for working parents signing their kids up for every activity that looks good on a college application, for caregivers who just want to give their kids the best, and end up with a schedule that feels impossible before the first bell even rings.
My 7 year old wandered into the kitchen this morning while I was stacking the papers, and he leaned on the table next to me, yawning, and said, “Can we just do reading and math and play Legos this year? I don’t want a million classes.” I laughed, but it stuck with me. All the extra stuff I added, I added it for them. But what they actually want is more of the unplanned, slow stuff that doesn’t make it to the end-of-year photo albums.
I’ve tested a few small things this year that have helped me sort it out without too much guilt, and they’re simple enough that any caregiver (parent or teacher) can try them. First, I sorted every commitment into three piles: non-negotiable, starts this month, starts later. Non-negotiables are the things that can’t move: core math and reading for the kids, my 10 hours a week of part-time editing work, my 10 year old’s weekly speech therapy, his soccer season. That’s it. Everything else went into the other two piles. The 4-H leadership I wanted to do? It can start next year, when my 7 year old is a little older and I have more space. The extra American history unit I bought on a whim? It goes into the start in October pile. If we have extra time after we settle into our routine, I can pull it out. If not, it’ll keep until next year. This works for teachers too: if you’re asked to lead an extra committee that doesn’t have to start until October, you can say you’ll reevaluate after the first month of back-to-school chaos, instead of committing upfront.
Second, I added 15 minutes of buffer time to every single commitment on my calendar. I used to plan drive time to co-op as exactly 20 minutes, but that never accounts for the lost water bottle, the sudden need for a bathroom stop, the train that crosses the road right when you’re going through. Now I add 15 minutes to everything, and if after adding that buffer, my week has less than 2 hours a day of unplanned time, I cut something. Unplanned time isn’t wasted time, for me or for the kids. It’s the space where they build Lego castles, or we stop to look at a caterpillar on the way to the car, or I get to sit and drink a hot cup of tea instead of rushing to the next thing. For teachers, that buffer might be 10 extra minutes between after-school commitments, instead of running straight from dismissal to club meetings. It makes all the difference.
Last, I put a 15 minute monthly reset in my calendar. Every fourth Sunday, I’ll spend 15 minutes going through the schedule and asking one question: what are we not enjoying right now? If something feels like a chore, we cut it, no questions asked. Last year I kept forcing a weekly art class because I paid for it, and we all dragged our feet going every week for two months before I canceled. This year, if it’s not working, it’s gone before it makes everyone miserable.
Right now, I’ve cut three big commitments from my schedule, and the stack of papers on my table is half the size it was last night. I still have that little niggling voice in the back of my head that says I’m not doing enough. That I’m missing opportunities for my kids, that I should be more productive, that taking on less means I’m slacking. I caught myself scrolling through back to school posts an hour ago and almost signed up for a weekly nature study group that I don’t have room for. I closed the tab.
We’re starting the first week next Monday, and so far, the only after-school plan we have is to make popcorn and watch a show together three days a week. I don’t know if I’ve gotten the balance right. I might get bored in a month and add something new, or I might still end up stressed halfway through the semester. But right now, before the year even starts, I’m not lying awake panicking about all the things I have to do. That’s enough for me.
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