That Chart seemed like a winner, then it died. Why the chore chart and

That Chart seemed like a winner, then it died. Why the chore chart and

My wife and I have a graveyard of shared notes that outline meal plans, chores, daily routines and schedules. Our shared family calendars are pinging duplicate notifications for carpool and practice and games.

Last Spring, I got good at updating a whiteboard on the side of the fridge. I mapped out the weeks and meals. I passed it by the other day, dried expo stains reminded me of little league playoff games around memorial day.

That’s nothing to say of the fleet of legal pads, computer paper and sticky notes we each have on our own desks.

It’s the effort of constantly organizing family systems to feed, transport and raise 3 boys on two campuses, enrolled in 7 extracurricular activities with robust social lives and chore expectations while we run two businesses. While 3 of the 5 family members battle with a different flavor of ADHD. Please withhold the judgements or interventions, we’re aware of our own crazy. We like it here.

Every family has the graveyard of chore charts, the skylight calendar that hasn’t been updated in a month, the abandoned apple notes, and the accompanying self-reproach. Solidarity is strong. You’re safe here, I see you, I love you.

And while these resources are great tools for externalizing and supporting working memory, they just facilitate use of executive functions. They aren’t executive functioning. In fact, the graveyard of abandoned artifacts is executive functioning.

Because executive functioning is actually exercised, and developed in the repeated effortful conversations where a family collaborates to define what needs to be done, how it will be done and what tools we will use to get there.

The persistent commitment to revise and revisit process is precisely what executive functioning demands. The iterative process of identifying what’s working, what’s not and what needs to be different next time is driven by healthy executive functioning.

It starts with self-awareness, puts that energy into planning and prioritizing, supporting the working memory and moves into self-monitoring. That allows the process to start all over again.

What’s so important to recognize is that there is no arrival, we attempt to master processes - the morning routine, the meal plan, the carpool- then we iterate.

That’s why the promise of perfect organizational products to create executive functioning are a fools errand. A chart, a calendar, an organizer is not a skill, it’s a tool to practice the skill, but the recognition that it doesn’t work, the collaboration, iteration is what develops a functional executive function skills in a person.

This weekend try this

Ditch the chore chart that died in August. Thank it for it’s service, and praise your own functional efforts. Then ask yourself, “What did we learn? What worked, what didn’t?” And iterate again. You’ll be using your executive skill set to build new tools. And if you have no idea where to start, how to design these systems, or ask the right questions, then consider joining my upcoming course Autopilot. The waitlist is open and I’d love to teach you that process.

My wife and I have a graveyard. Shared notes full of meal plans, chore lists, daily routines and schedules. Family calendars pinging duplicate notifications for the same carpool. A fleet of legal pads, printer paper and sticky notes across two desks. Last spring I got good at the whiteboard on the side of the fridge. I mapped out the weeks, the meals, the rides. I walked past it the other day. It's September, and the dried Expo marker reminded me of the Little League playoffs, Memorial Day weekend. The systems are just evidence of the effort. We’re managing three boys on two campuses, seven extracurriculars, robust social lives, chore expectations, and two businesses. And three of the five of us run a different flavor of ADHD. Please withhold the judgments and interventions. We're aware of our own crazy. We like it here. Every family has their graveyard. The chore chart that died in August, the Skylight calendar nobody has updated in a month, abandoned Apple Notes are a meme. And there’s self-reproach that comes with all of it: why can't we just stick with something? If that's your house, you're in good company. Solidarity is strong. But here's what I want you to know about the graveyard. Those are good tools. A chart or a calendar takes what's in your head and puts it on the wall, to support working memory. But resources that support executive function are not the same as executive functioning. You can't buy the skill on Amazon. The skill is everything that happened around that whiteboard. I noticed the carpool, meal plan and calendar weren’t working, I planned a fix, I externalized and monitored it. It worked for baseball season, I learned something and moved on. That's nearly a textbook definition of functional executive functioning. Adele Diamond, who has done as much as anyone to define executive function, names cognitive flexibility, the ability to change your approach when the current one isn't working, as one of its three core components. So the graveyard of chore charts is a strong example of your executive functioning. But those headstones all belong to parents. In most houses, and in ours for a long time, the parents designed the system, the parents monitor it, the parents notice it died, and the parents build the next one at 9pm on a Sunday. The kid's only job is to comply with the chart. The adults get all the practice, responsibility and burnout. The person whose prefrontal cortex is actually under construction gets none. I had this exact moment with my middle child last week. The morning routine I laid out wasn’t working, he was a daily mess. I wasn’t the solution. I had to bring him to the table. We sat down, sorted what worked and what didn’t. Mapped out a new plan in his handwriting. It’s improving. That collaboration is what strengthens his executive functioning. What needs to get done, how we'll do it, what tools we'll use. In a few weeks, we can ask what's working, what isn't, what we change. There's no perfect arrival. We get the morning routine mastered, demand will increase, and we iterate for a new process. A kid who sits at that table again and again through middle school is practicing the exact skill set he'll need to run his own life. The products promising to organize your family once and for all are a fool's errand. The chart was never the skill because the skill lives in collaboration and iteration. This weekend, try this. Take down the chart that you built and then died in August. Thank it for its service. Then sit down with your kid and start asking questions. Let their answers change the design, write it down, try again. That’s functional executive functioning. If you don't know where to start, how to design these systems, or which questions to ask, that's what my upcoming course, Autopilot, teaches. The waitlist is open, and I'd love to teach you the process.