As a kid, I had mixed feelings about heading back to school. 

I loved the freedom of summer days running around the neighborhood, sleeping under the stars, and vacationing at the beach or mountains. I didn’t need any research to convince me of the power of free time to play with friends, enjoy family, and explore the natural world. Those days of warmth, extended light, and freedom from structure restored the body, brain, and spirit.

Kids glow during the summer and not just from a touch of sun.

Too bad we mature, civilized adults didn’t build in an equivalent of an extended seasonal vacation into our work life. In the US, unless you have the financial means and permission from work to take frequent vacations or staycations, you’re grinding through 50 weeks a year at work. This definitely dampens the health and wellbeing of every body, mind, and spirit. But, I digress.

I wasn’t so keen on summer ending even if there were some perks about returning to school. 

Aside from seeing friends and enjoying school, I was always enticed by back to school shopping. I loved the trip to the stationary store with my mom and returning home to organize my notebooks, pencils, and backpack. I realize now that my delight wasn’t just about the “stuff” I carried, rather it was more about what it represented. 

A brand new notebook offered me the promise of building upon old knowledge to reveal doorways into something greater. 

I still love my school supplies and I’m still pursuing my “higher education.” If I could transport my shelves of colorful binders and notebooks along with my computer to a tropical island, I’d have enough course material to keep me busy for 6 months. As I create and consume, I welcome the pleasure of organizing all of this wisdom in colorful binders and matching notebooks. 

I’m not taking these gifts of school supplies, love of learning, and positive experiences in education lightly. 

As a school psychologist and therapist who worked decades in the nonprofit world, I’m well aware that not every child has access to the financial, family, or school support that foster growth. That’s why I’ve been running back to school supply drives for the past 30 years.

Donating school supplies may seem like a token action, allowing the giver to feel good, but making a questionable difference to the tremendous learning difficulties, poverty, or family challenges some kids face.

I know better. I’ve learned of the value of a new notebook or backpack from kids and teens who feel shame, worry, and discomfort when they don’t measure up to their peers. And, unfortunately, when they’ve been shamed by teachers for not being “prepared” with the required supplies.

School supplies matter to these kids. And they bring relief to overstressed parents.