Preparing for school as you would a siege
I’m just back from the hunting grounds. That’s where parents go, at the beginning of each new school year, to try to complete the treasure hunt designed by sadistic educators. Around and around the aisles, dodging others with exactly the same mindset, constantly scanning the edges of counters where the article you need may have been carelessly abandoned by another. All this, to assure that Johnny Who Can’t Read will be able to write, on a wide range of paper types with an even wider range of marking tools. Blood from the parent, included.
My youngest is approaching the final years of high school, educated in the eyes of society. Alas, the school lists still strike fear, if only because of some distorted sense of brand loyalty expressed by the teacher who knows all. Tell me, is there really a difference between Hilroy and Canada, between DuoTang green and NoName brown? Are there only five kinds of refill sheets on the list this year? Do we really need another box of coloured pencils, or even two dozen lead pencils (with erasers)? Where do those pointy compasses go at the end of each season? Is there some sort of deadly area in the lower reaches of a school building, where thousands of needled math kits wait to pierce the unwary foot?
We didn’t buy a school bag today. The remaining stocks didn’t bear up to examination. Still, the paper goods store is richer by $150, and all we have to show for our troubles is a large bag of paper, doomed to be assigned to a blue bin in a few months. At least the covers tell the truth: “Made from recycled fibres”.
