The Back to School Spending Bonanza

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In the midst of frenzied back to school preparations for families with kiddos— and the looming re-appearance of fall weather trends (it should be criminal to think about sweaters and pumpkin spice when it’s still 90 degrees outside)— I’ve been thinking about my own back to school experiences as a child.

Stephanie at

Sustainable Minimalists

recently noted that parents will spend an average of more than $700 per child in back to school preparations this year (and she offers some great tips for alternative ways to prepare for the year here). This, to me, is a mind-boggling figure, considering that a basic wide-ruled notebook costs $0.45 (which, to be clear, is indicative of its own environmental and labor chain problems, but I digress). So what this number really tells me is this: Parents are buying backpacks, lunchboxes, new sneakers, and entirely new wardrobes to outfit their kiddos for the year— then refreshing those wardrobes every few months (or days, in the case of teen’s fast fashion habits) before repeating the process again next year. The most concerning thing I’ve seen about this back to school trends is a simple statistic: 42% of parents surveyed say they would “go into debt to pay for back-to-school items that would help their child fit in at school.”

Oof. Growing up, my family was the intensely practical kind that made sure our school supply lists were covered, but we never really participated in the back to school shopping frenzy. Most of my clothes were secondhand, and not in the curated, ‘bought-it-off-Poshmark’ way, but rather the ‘here’s a random t-shirt from Goodwill, hope it fits’ kind of way. I want to say that my mom thought caring about appearances was frivolous— but I’m honestly not sure in hindsight whether it never occurred to her that appearances might matter, or whether she simply didn’t understand what was socially expected in my elite suburban hometown.

Summer was, for me, a very brief reprieve from the performative nature of lunchroom seating arrangements and anxiety about the smallest details of navigating the world, down to the way I walked into the classroom or decorated my binder cover. It wasn’t so much about saying the ‘right’ thing about myself as it was not saying the ‘wrong’ thing. I lived in a precarious social existence where I had plenty of close friends, but my goody-two-shoes nature and “96 isn’t good enough” approach to academics (my school’s GPA system was relentless, and only a 97 meant a 4.0)— not to mention the serious gaps in my fashion sense— meant I’m still not sure how I was well-liked enough to dodge any Mean Girls style cruelty or jeering comments from football players. But I was acutely aware that flying under the radar in that way was a social necessity.

So every year, as the sweltering heat of August rolled through, I began my preparations for the upcoming year. Checklists were made, covering everything from the clothes I would wear to how I would divide my hours of homework time. I roped my sibling, five years my junior, into this exercise nearly every summer (and am belatedly very sorry for any anxiety this neurotic exercise might have triggered in their childhood). And every year looked somewhat the same: The absolute best of intentions lasted through September, and sometimes October, before being crushed under the weight of 5 Advanced Placement classes, extracurriculars, turbulence in my home life, and a serious lack of time management skills (or emotional bandwidth). The checklists fell to the wayside.

I remember my pre-teen and teenage years— at least until I began doing my own shopping, and began experimenting with make-up— as intensely socially awkward. I’m sure plenty of people feel that way in hindsight, but in the brief moments where I recall my teen angst… well, let’s just say it helps to live 1,200 miles away from everyone who knew me during that particular stage.

I think what parents are getting at when they admit to over-spending, and even going into debt, over back to school clothing and gear is this: We are willing to do anything to prevent our children from experiencing the anxiety, angst, or isolation that we ourselves might have felt growing up. Of course, there are more insidious stereotypes, like the pageant mom who forces her child into cheerleading and early Botox. But for the most part, I think this is a very expensive example of loving parents trying their hardest to ease the transition to a new school year, without realizing it shouldn’t cost the equivalent of a mortgage payment.

Photo by David Pisnoy on Unsplash

I have sympathy for the desire to control others’ perception of ourselves. It’s a basic human instinct to want to feel included, and I don’t think the appropriate response— for ourselves or for children— is to dismiss this desire to shape our public appearance entirely.

There are no shortage of ways that this intentional crafting of personhood can be damaging, especially online: Social media algorithms that seem to dictate our self-worth, the content a 12 year old posts following them into adulthood, media funnels that divide people into artificial 'camps’ on issues, while removing the intricacy and complexity of real discussion.

And in the real world, the current easiest mode of ‘fitting in’— especially for kids and young adults— contributes to damaging labor and environmental practices through Shein hauls and TikTok beauty trends. If my primary means of relating to another human is by sharing fashion hauls or funny cat videos, the relationship is probably pretty surface level.

But the base instinct to be included? It’s a visceral human need.

With the benefits of a fully developed prefrontal cortex, it’s easier as adults to recognize that acceptance doesn’t come from outward appearance. It’s more apparent, too, that we have remarkably little control over the way others perceive us. And yet even as adults, we succumb to others’ perceptions of ourselves all the time. It’s socially acceptable to super-size our homes and take on debt for Insta-worthy travel. But if we are constantly trying to keep up with the Joneses’, then of course our kids will think they need to do the same— and so, too, will we raise children who instinctively judge others based on superficial criteria. It’s on us, not only as parents but as mentors, teachers, and community members (yes, including the ‘childless cat ladies’!) to challenge that narrative for the next generation.

So this year, sure, it’s helpful to remember that our kids need a lot less than we think they do. But it’s also helpful to remember that children are reflecting the same values we as a society hold dear, and it just so happens to be triggering a back to school spending bonanza.

+ Ask Me Anything

Last week, I was inspired by

Laura Fenton

’s Birthday Ask-Me-Anything on

LIVING SMALL

(I know Laura and I have quite the overlapping audience, but I highly recommend checking her work out if you aren’t already familiar with her!) so here goes:

Use the comments this week to ASK ME ANYTHING! Is there a particular question you have, or something you are curious about? Any topic you want to see a deep dive into? Let me know!