Sage Advice from Supermodels

Kate Moss famously said, “Nothing tastes as good as productivity feels.” Or something very close to that. I’m not one to talk up supermodels, but Kate knows what’s up.

I’m an efficient person. I never pulled all-nighters in college or begged professors for extensions in my sweatpants. I never sat in the library bemoaning a looming deadline with a blank screen in front of me and my body convulsing from too much library coffee (okay, once or twice). I rarely wait until the last minute. Not really my style. I’m not sure if I was born productive (proudly checking off my to do list in the womb) or if I turned productive after realizing just how incredible productivity feels. Productivity is more addictive than your favorite vice—your high of choice. Maybe a productivity campaign is the solution to the nation’s drug problems. DARE to be productive. I’ll call Barack (speed dial one).

Over the years, I’ve used various methods of productivity-promotion. I used to rely on a certain brightly-colored planner made in Ashland, Oregon (a town on the California border known for naked street dancing, Avant-garde Othello and apparently organization). I have a stack of planners in my bedroom in Portland that chronicle my life in terms of boxes checked and commitments no longer pressing. One year, I created daily Moleskin to do lists, because—like the rest of Brooklyn—I fall prey to the hipster notebook. That smooth black cover just makes me want to get shit done, be creative.

Last August my life changed in many ways (boy out, job in, new city), but mostly in terms of productivity.

When my friend Ian first heard me refer to my Flexi-Friend (Flexy for short) I think he thought I was talking about some sort of sick comfort-object/vibrator hybrid—wait, has that been patented?

Every week, you and your Flexi-Friend must have a “meeting with yourself.”

You take your Flexi-Friend everywhere. Just in case of emergency. It’s just so…flexible.

Okay, not the best name, but a rose by any other name…

At the end of my program in Boston, a Brooklyn-based charter school type named MAYA came up to the Bean to give us an hour-long professional development session on the Flexi-Friend, her patented, tried and true organizational system that she claimed was taking over progressive education in New York. MAYA is a fast-talking New Yorker who wears tailored outfits from Banana Republic, has perfectly highlighted hair and I suspect an addiction to something harder than her Flexi-Friend. She scared the crap outta me.

She was a living, breathing infomercial, only I couldn't change the channel.

“The best thing about the Flexi,” she cooed in her New York accent to a bunch of tired 23-year-olds, “is that it can be tailored to your needs! Your Flexi-Friend is YOU!”

Right, MAYA. I wanted to vomit on her low-heeled pumps.

I’m a proud cynic, so after promising to use my Flexi-Friend (there was an oath), I threw it in my bag and promptly forgot about it.

To get things straight, the Flexi-Friend is really nothing special. It’s a clear plastic tabbed notebook in which you’ll find things like your weekly worksheet and thought-catcher (cute, huh?). In essence, there’s nothing better or different about the Flexi-Friend; it’s a glorified planner.

And yet.

When I started teaching in September, I felt overwhelmed in a new way. I grasped for that glittery feeling of productivity that I bragged about in paragraph 2, but my arrogance was weakening. The workload felt insurmountable, and I touched my eyelids at night, knowing there must be permanent lead weights up there. I wasn’t having any fun. As someone accustomed to productivity and the life-work balance that ensues, I was angry that my work was showing me who’s boss.

So I pulled my Flexi-Friend out of a box from the Boston move and decided it was high time I met with myself. I closed my door, put on a little mood music and got to work.

For some reason, the introduction of the Flexi-Friend into my life reinvigorated my sense of productivity and purpose; I remembered Kate’s wise mantra. Though on the surface it’s in no way superior to other methods of “getting your life together,” the Flexi felt shiny and different. It tracks your daily, weekly and monthly workload. It reminds me who I need to tell what, and it encourages me to cross things off in brightly-colored Sharpee. Of course, the sweetest high there is (more than just the toxic smell).

I take it with me everywhere and look at it constantly. In fact, just looking at my Flexi-Friend centers me. I’m not sure if it’s the Flexi-Friend or a mindset adjustment, but come December my life had re-calibrated and rebalanced.

During a meeting a few weeks ago (not with myself), my boss articulated the key to productivity success that I think I'd always known. I believe a strong sense of efficiency is what allows teachers (maybe even laypeople) to work a stressful job and lead a fulfilling life. She said that when making a to do list, you must grant equal importance to work things and life things. Getting a pedicure or brunch with friends should be given equal weight on your to-do list as grading vocabulary quizzes or lesson planning. You should put absolutely everything you want to accomplish on your Flexi-Friend to do list. No thing is too big or too small (I’ve had everything from ‘eat lunch’ to ‘stop acting insane’). That way, balance is written into my Flexi-Friend, and I can make sure it happens.

And so, the cynic cowers in shame, MAYA is unknowingly proud, and I meet with myself every Thursday morning so that I can keep on riding the efficiency high.