Skip to main content

Confessions of a School Supply Nerd

I must admit, I am a back-to-school nerd.

The new paper, pencils, folders, and crayons all get my inner child happy and giddy.  I vividly remember when the 64 box of Crayola Crayons was a big step in the school supply shopping list, I believe I was in 7th grade when I finally graduated from the little box.

When I was a kid, it was Prang Water Colors, Big Chief Writing Tablets (wrote some of my earliest stories on these), Crayola Crayons, Crayola Color Pencils (for 7th grade!) Bic Pens (for 6th grade, we were big kids then!).  I remember the Cursive Writing Paper required for 3rd grade (some things should still be in the curriculum, like handwriting class!).  I remember picking out our lunch boxes (The Mystery Machine, Scooby Doo for me!) back when they were metal and had the thermos to match (I wish I still had mine!)

I am on my last set of children who have gone through the ritual of choosing their "special folder" and deciding what color binder they should have (they are 3rd and 5th grade, respectively).  I am in the counting down stage of when Target in July and the Mall in August will be my second homes.
My youngest son also got into the back-to-school shopping mode but with a different list.

He is now safely tucked away in his dorm, 5 states and a 12-hour travel day away.

His list included things like Tide Pods and enough Axe deordant to last until Christmas break.  He had to bring his Tux and cufflinks for the Orientation Week Freshman Ball and reluctantly didn't bring all twenty pairs of athletic shoes, deciding that only five would fit into the already overstuffed van.  He had to make the same decisions for his t-shirt collection and shorts, we ended up bring some things back with us.

I think I will always walk the school supply aisle at Target when July rolls around.  I know my son had enough paper and notebooks to last him to his Bachelors of Arts (hey, I went a little overboard back when he was a freshman in high school and filled up his supply drawers to capacity!)

This school-supply-nerd loves the change to late July when all those shiny new pencils and markers take up a huge portion of Target.  I love to look at the kids negotiating with their parents why the $6 safe-like pencil box is a MUST HAVE versus the 98-cents plastic box that is stacked on an endcap.

Glue sticks, packs of 24 pencils, crayons for 25-cents, composition notebooks for 50-cents, filler paper for 25-cents, this teacher-in-heart wants to grab them all!

It is not quite like a shopping addiction, but I do admit to standing there with my daughters, knowing my home cabinet probably already has some, and grabbing a few more of those really cute  composition notebooks. Hey, what can I say, back in my day, the only choice was black and the only rule was WIDE!

I think it is the promise of adventure unfolding, like those new notebooks my daughters are filling with paper, that makes me love the new supplies.  Life, like learning, keeps happening and like July to August, always comes around with the promise that while some things will stay the same, some amazing new happenings are waiting to be explored.

Happy Back-To-School Week!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Hannah's Song

We came together last night and sang Hannah's song. Family from California was in town, it was the night before Aunt Hannah's Home Going Celebration. We met at my house late in the evening to fellowship, remember, hug, eat, and laugh. Thom felt the love in the room and I'm sure his mom would've appreciated us doing what she did all her life - love. Aunt Hannah was a gracious woman. Her gentle spirit, sparkling eyes, and constant smile will be remembered. She has left us physically, but never spiritually. The laughter was like music in Thom's ear. For the first time in weeks I saw my cousin relax. He has been in a tornado for the past four weeks from his mother's diagnosis to her death. Even in her final stage, Aunt Hannah was granted her desire. She asked to not suffer long when it was her time to go, she had been a caregiver her whole life and I'm sure her prayer was for her son. In the last days of her life, she still greeted well wishers with a wa...

Brothers, Can we Talk?

 I'm a Black woman, born of a Black woman and a Black man. When my mother died, it was my father who nurtured me and instilled in me a sense of pride of self, of my race, of my abilities to do whatever I put my mind to do. He never imposed limitations on me as a Black woman. The only caution he ever gave me was to not burn my candle at both ends and to be mindful of my health, I am an asthmatic. He never stopped me from trying anything and always encouraged me. Daddy was a strong Black man who introduced me to Shirley Chisholm when I was a little girl. He reminded me of the fortitude of my late mother's quest for gender equality in the workplace and of the namesake who marched at Selma.  He is the one who gave me my pseudonym, Tayé. Daddy was a strong tower of empowerment and fought all the way to his last breath for social, gender, and racial justice. It is in remembering my father this morning that I'm asking the brothers, can we talk? What is it, especially those of my g...

Ashes to Ashes

 This is Ash Wednesday. For a lot of Catholics and Anglican Christians, it begins the holy season of Lent. We remember we are but dust and to dust we return, ashes to ashes.  It is a somber reminder of our humanity and the finality of life. We are a mere breath. Today, as a Hospital Chaplain Resident, I am imposing ashes on patients, family, and staff. It is a visible marker of a shared faith and belief. We look with anticipation to the finished work of salvation on the cross and in eager hope of the resurrection. As my day progressed, I noticed how much hope was in the eyes of the ones giving and receiving this reminder of our existence. It was both a somber moment and a joyful moment. Two things can exist at the same time. Like the world we find ourselves in. Even as it seems like the darkest, certainly the darkest I’ve known in my six decades on this earth. Completely imperfect as a nation, there was still a glimmer of light until the nightmare became reality. We wonder abo...