My daughter wasn’t set to start Kindergarten for another two weeks when what had already infiltrated our lives but this:
Oh no. I’m not going to preload that monthly whine-fest.
The Scholastic mailers are a recipe for waste – the flyers, the shipping requirements and the books themselves are things this family doesn’t need to bother itself with.
Except, while I’m at it, why don’t I go ahead and try to get chocolate milk banned from public schools because I might actually have better luck in the cafeteria than heading off the only financially-viable arm of the big publishing houses.
1. The first person standing in my way: myself. Truth be told, as a kid, I loved the Scholastic thing. In fact, as it turns out, I love it as an adult. All those fresh, new books to get my mitts on. “Oh, look – 18 Pinkalicious for $10! That’s a steal! Plus you get a Minion stuffie for free when you order!”
Okay, okay, calm down. We’re doing this in the name of Zero Waste.
2. But free boooooks! This is really the first time Zero Waste has felt like a sacrifice (although that’s probably only because I didn’t give up pizza).
And really, how am I suppose to argue with LITERACY? And am I hurting my child’s love and appreciation of books? No, because my mom didn’t buy me squat from Scholastic and I’d turn down a date with Jake Gyllenhaal for an evening alone with Jane Austen.
Wait, is he buying?
Oh look, now the youngest wants Fancy Nancy and we haven’t even put pants on yet this morning.
Really, though, it might not be her love of reading that I’m squashing, more her love of getting new stuff and that might not be so bad.
3. The gatekeeper: Ms. 18-year-veteran Kindergarten Teacher. Hands on her hips, wisps of grey hairs across her stern forehead. Actual transcript:
Her: “What do you mean, get off the list?”
Me (already feeling silly): “Can I not get this?”
Her: “Can you just throw it away?”
Me (sweat beads forming): “I mean, can we have one less flyer come to the classroom?”
Her: “No…um…well, the class benefits when you order.”
Yah, okay, I know this argument. I got the same guilt trip when I asked my mailman to stop delivering ValPac coupons to my house.
And really, even if she agreed, is she really going to call Scholastic and ask them to send 24 instead of 25 flyers and will Scholastic even do it? You know they send extra as it is for those dullard parents (Me, me!) that lose them right before they are due.
With resignation I will resort to recycling the flyers each month.
Oh, but look….they have Frog and Toad!
Okay, gotta be strong.
To offset the grieving, I took my girls to a sure-thing thrift store WAY up in the heights that always has an excellent variety of used children’s books. The more northeast you go in Albuquerque, the fewer thrift shops but the better the goods. It’s one of the places the middle-to-upper class dump their books.
Smart thinking, Mom.
Too bad you didn’t couple that energy with some forethought.
Do things close on Monday in your town like they do here in the Duke City?
No worries, we’ll checkout a sweet place I heard about on the Mommy vine that sells used Legos. Yes, such utopian convergence of Zero Waste and mommyhood exists. And I’ve heard it’s even a franchise.
One that also takes Mondays off apparently.
So no ‘new’ Legos and no ‘new’ books. We’ll see how the Scholastic thing turns out. Maybe I won’t be the only one that has a problem with it. Maybe my girl won’t be the only one that won’t get something on Scholastic day. Because nobody wants to be that kid. Especially if you are already the kid that brings reusable silverware and napkins to the cafeteria. And isn’t allowed to drink the chocolate milk.