Most kids start a new school year this week or next. Thank goodness in this economy I don’t have to figure out how to strap a kid up with new school clothes and the latest best Trapper Keeper (what, don’t they still have those?). I was such a brat when it came time to starting school, I would always manufacture necessities when we were out shopping (”Yes, I totally need that protractor, and the compass, and the scientific calculator, and every single color of marker in the universe, yes yes, it’s all required”) because, well, I like new stuff, and back then I wasn’t familiar with the step of asking yourself “Do I really need this?” before I put it in the shopping cart, it was all about how much I could scam in one fail swoop. Pencils had to be brand new, last year’s notebooks were not good enough, no matter how unused they were, it all had to be new and shiny and exciting.
When it came to school clothes, I really had no fashion sense back then (thank God I’m super stylish now, wait, am I?) and I relied on my dad to pick my clothes out for me. How we arrived at this point I’ll never know, but somehow it was determined that my dad was someone who could be trusted to make the fashion decisions in my house. Maybe, as I reflect on this, he can help me share the blame of why I was so brutally picked on in school. Between the clothes, the bad hair, the freckles, the glasses, the chubbiness, and the supreme paleness (I was raised at the beach and was the ONLY PERSON, I swear, the ONLY ONE who could not tan), I spent the first day of school each year just wishing that a new ugly kid had moved to town over the summer to help carry the load of the teasing. This. never. happened. -K
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