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Going back to school mighty hard on wallet
(by Christine Thome - August 18, 2010)
BEYOND MY CONTROL, BY CHRISTINE THOME
Going back to school mighty hard on wallet
"Ooooo! I like the lime green one and the neon pink. Which one do you like?" one of my daughters asked her twin sister.
"I think I like the pink one, but I like this bright blue one too -- I can't decide. Do you think Mom will let us get both?" the other sister hoped.
"Oh, for God's sake, girls! They're Post-It Notes -- get whatever colors you want!" I screamed a little too loud in the office-supply store.
Yep, it's back to school time, and not only am I watching my hard-earned money fly away like loose-leaf paper, but my nerves are strung about as tight as a bouncing chicken nugget in the school cafeteria.
"Where are the pencil pouches? We need new pencil pouches this year," they said in unison.
"What are pencil pouches?" I asked.
"You know, where you put all your pencils, pens and highlighters." Duh.
"But I thought you put your pencils in your backpack," I questioned.
"We put them in a pencil pouch, and then the pencil pouch goes into the backpack," the other daughter explained to me very slowly.
I thought about all the chewed-up pencils, discarded pens and dried-up highlighters that I pick up off the floor every day and dig out of the couches each month. I knew nothing was making it into a pencil pouch.
"Forget it," I said. "You can use a Ziploc bag. Now, let's go before I have to dip into your college funds to pay for all of this."
If I thought a pencil pouch was going to be the key to their success and bring them a step closer to a full academic college scholarship, I would have bought one in every color. But I know better. You see, I have a child going to college this year, and I know that, no matter how much you spend on school supplies, school supplies do not pay for college. Crazed parents do.
Earlier this summer, my college-bound daughter and I attended her campus orientation. "Oh, look, Mom! You got a free tote bag and pen," she said as we sat in the auditorium, flipping through the handouts.
"Those are not free," I said matter-of-factly. "That tote bag right there? That's a $15,000 tote bag. And that pen? That's a $10,000 pen. Those are the most expensive tote bag and pen I will ever own."
It would be one thing if the university gave me a tote bag large enough to hold everything she needs for her dorm room, but they practically require that you rent a small semi-truck to haul everything down.
"OK, besides some new jeans, I think I have everything I need," she said as she looked over her five-page check list.
"Oh, wait. I didn't get a welcome mat. I still need a welcome mat, Mom," she called to me.
"Why in the world do you need a welcome mat?" I asked, trying to do everything possible just to hold onto a few extra dollars.
"So people can wipe their feet before coming into my room." Duh.
"You are on the third floor. People can wipe their feet on the doormat outside the dorm building and continue to stomp the dirt off their shoes during the long hike up the stairs. If that doesn't knock the crud off their shoes, then I would question where they've been and if they should be coming into your room in the first place."
Beginning to feel like a doormat myself, I conceded that she could get a doormat as long as it stated, "What the hell are you doing here? Get back to the library! -- Mom"
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