It was just May, and the school
year ended; it seemed like only three months ago. Actually, it was. August, to me, was the downhill slope of
vacation time and the quick approach of another dreadful school year.
Family vacations in our modest hometown were rare and short, revolving around the factory maintenance and available money to escape the city for a few days.
People who had access to “camps” on forest land or lakes were fortunate enough to be gone, but not the less fortunate such as me, who were subject to making a few dollars mowing lawns, cleaning-up overgrown yards, or even caddying on the municipal golf course.
During this dismal time most money we earned through menial tasks was saved, only to be spent come August to purchase pieces of school uniforms that our parochial school required.
Our uniforms consisted of charcoal gray slacks, black dress shoes, a white shirt, and plaid tie. The girls’ uniform was a plaid jumper, white blouse, white sock, and black patent leather shoes. These combinations were unique to our particular school to differentiate our juvenile delinquents from those of other parochial schools. But I digress.
Those uniform purchases included several of each ensemble to facilitate washing rotations and extra sets in case of playground mishaps.
Any additional money went to
needed pencils, paper, protractors, colored pencils, pens, and binders. My parents insisted last year’s book bag was
still useable, just as it was from the previous year. Hint:
When purchasing a book bag and lunchbox, choose wisely.
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I didn’t need to worry about that lunchbox thing because we were flush with brown paper bags, FYI.
In any case, as an adult out of elementary school for nearly 50-years, I now find it amazing how and what school supplies are incorporated into children’s lives.
Today, we are on the cusp of
dutiful television news stations’ annual campaign to instill guilt into the
minds of unsuspecting citizens in communities across
This flood of guilt-to-feel good emotion begins simply enough. A small advertising blurb mentions how kids will be going back to school and desperately need supplies. Those supplies include pencils, paper, protractors, colored pencils, pens, and binders, not unlike my list from a half-century ago.
The difference is these modern day ads include the need for backpacks, pencil cases, and the latest fashions for both girls and boys. And of course, those fashions are different from last year’s, and far more expensive.
Here’s where the fun begins.
If you’d like to reread today’s story anew, please feel free to go back to the top and do so. You may remember how I worked mowing lawns, cleaning up overgrown yards, and washing smoke-baked walls for local widows, to earn money to buy this same stuff.
We didn’t have video games or summer sports camps, rather we had bicycles and local parks, whiffle balls and bats, and imaginations. Our parents weren’t wealthy, they were hard working.
They filled-in the gaps for the money my sister and I needed for our supplies and uniforms, and they did without for themselves until more money was available.
Our car – yes, car – singular, was a modest Ford; we couldn’t afford a second car. There were no SUV’s, and no mention of handouts of any sort. We bought what we could afford and only that. Period.
Today, kids are raised under an umbrella of privilege expecting only the best and without delay. Not having to work, kids from ages twelve to twenty-four, and beyond, have little sense of responsibility. They never held a basic job which teaches a person how to tell time, get along with others, take the initiative, and handle money.
I couldn’t find a kid to help me spread 80-bags of mulch, so I hired a 51-year old hungry roofer to do the job. He needed the cash and was delighted to make a couple of bucks to help with household bills. At least he knows the mechanics of work and reward.
So when these school kids begin making the rounds to sell wrapping paper, overpriced candy, and other crap for their schools, they should not be surprised to hear a resounding “NO!” They would be wise to read this story for a thorough explanation why.
Let their parents fork over some dough for their school supplies instead of buying a giant SUV, or make their kids get odd jobs to gain something called “work ethic.” That is something even the wealthiest of the wealthy can buy – much like a personality.
This year should begin a new era of teaching kids, and parents alike, about how life really works and how to be either a success or a failure. The choice is yours. Put the critical race theory material aside and learn how to get along and function in the real world.
Otherwise, a terrible disappointment for both parents and their progenies is just over the school horizon. Then it’s too late.
