DAILY NEWS - OPINION | Surviving back-to-school shopping

Staples’ back-to-school campaign circa 1996 with a zealous (maybe even drunk?) dad doing wheelies with his shopping cart, wielding a rotary pencil sharpener, flanked by two extremely macabre grade schoolers dressed as pallbearers, may well be the most iconic moving image of the joyous anticipation of sending the kids back.

He’s galloping along to the tune of “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year.”

The kids are not. 

Yes, summer break has reached its organic end. Moms, grab your last summer spritz as I present you with the joys and tyranny of this extra special moment in time: Back-to-school shopping.

The tradition surely predates me, with Mary escorting Jesus to woodshop when he was 7. But nonetheless, I’ve picked up a few crucial pointers over the decades that might allay both internal and wallet-filled anxiety.

I mean, Mary’s pressures had nothing to do with Instagram.

Are the pencils Ticonderoga strong? Are we treating to JanSport or Tiktok Shop? Are your pens ballpoint or click and erasable blue or black? iPad or cheap Chromebook? How about a MacBook with one terabyte of memory?

We do what we have to, until it wears us down like a chewed eraser on the stump of an overworked pencil.

First, a small rule: Buy a hybrid of good stuff, cheap stuff, and in-between.

But the most important rule? Do it alone.

Completely alone. Wear earbuds if you must, noise canceling, but just do it alone.

Do not bring any bite-sized shopping associates who will inevitably go off-list grabbing for shiny unnecessaries that have zero academic connection on a low shelf.

I don’t need any little hands distracting me. Unless you have a death wish, please, trust me on this tribal ritual of ditching your kids to shop for your kids.

But don’t worry, those little hands will get their chance.

After ruler and notebook reconnaissance, followed by the D-Day collection mission, I return to base, clear the kitchen table, and dump out this care package. The recipients converge magically from rooms as far as the basement.

Perfect.

Doing it this way convinces my kids that they thought they had picked their cherished status symbol pencils when in reality I did, cheaply and in Zen mode. No chance for a balk, cry, tantrum or sneaky cart purchase. This was the end of the road.

No turning back.

The unnecessary supply hype combined with unnecessary summer reading have taken their toll. These fruitless purchases coupled with wasted paperbacks based on boys and puppies are ways to justify the importance of academics even at rest.

Take it from me, the summer reading list is just another superfluous cost and a nag I don’t need to partake in. Hey — it’s my summer, too. 

If after nine months of rigorous training, do you think, truly, your kid is going to forget how to read? If that’s the case, your problem goes way beyond a Google classroom work packet; you should look for another school.

But enough complaining. Where I will exalt the educational universe since my first, Devin, started pre-K in 1998, is how the iPad, the laptop, Chromebook or the like cut way down on textbooks and unnecessary paper and assignment pads I used to sign.

So, moms and dads of the Z and Zillenial generation, take it from this Gen X Mima…

Carry your Venti Latte Cold Foam Matcha — no whip — to the playground knowing your kid made it into first grade with the appropriate desk wipes and gummy erasers — all on your terms, with those mini me(s) never the wiser.

May your only pressure be the filled-in placard and back-to-school headshot: First Day of [fill-in-the-blank] grade. Forced smile. Good to go.

—-

Perillo, a mother of eight, is the author of “Your Payment Method has Been Declined.”