The Stillwater High School Yearbook has a name. It’s called the Kabekonian, or more specifically.... Kabekonian & Arts Magazine Stylus. Hello pretentious! Something came in the mail the other day from Kabekonian, and I put it in Hannah’s mailbox, because I try to involve myself as little as possible in the whole yearbook situation. It irritates me that the cost is so extremely high, and my kids know we won’t even discuss the purchase of one until their senior year. I can’t see a good reason why the price should be $80 and I am sorry my kids won’t have the opportunity to laugh at old photos from all four of their high school years, but that’s just how it’s going to be.
Last night, Hannah gave the letter back to me, stating that it was “for parents to purchase full page ads or something”. Hmm... what could this mean? Well, I’ll tell you what it meant... The letter was an offer to take out an “ad” for your own child, stating heartfelt, gushing sentiment for all to see in the overpriced yearbook. The flyer was complete with examples of potential “ads” and of course, a price list. And the tiny, need-a-magnifying-glass-to-read-cheapest-ad costs $50. Or, choose one of increasingly large and increasingly expensive sized ads up to the half page ad (complete with room for a baby photo AND the senior photo). The half page ad=$180 (100 word limit). While you’re at it, feel free to add monogramming and icons to the year book, too. Really, you’re just a few check boxes away from a $300 yearbook. Sorry, I mean $300 Kabekonian.
And these ads! I’ve seen them before... These ads are all the rage out here in suburbia, folks. They have them at the dance recitals, too. And at the “end of the year” banquet program for some of the other sports and activities, too.
So, let’s get this straight. It isn’t ENOUGH that we as parents have paid for kids to participate in the activities, purchased clothing, supplies, costumes, food, activity fees, hotel rooms and who knows what else that we’ve likely forgotten or blocked out. It isn’t enough that we’ve provided healthy meals for top performance at the athletic events. It isn’t enough that we’ve taken time off work to attend the events and the conferences and the recitals and we’ve paid to attend the banquets and we are overpaying for the yearbook and the all night party and onandonandonandonandon. It isn’t enough that we’ve driven MILES, all over the state, and possibly neighboring states, to cheer and support and love and hug and wipe tears & snot and say encouraging things to often ungrateful teenagers.
No. It’s not enough. Now, we must declare our love for all to see.
Never mind the private card. Never mind the text message of encouragement when we couldn’t get out of that meeting. Never mind the photo we sent because we were simply “thinking of” our child.
Not good enough, folks.
Because you just know that every single parent (myself included) looked at that piece of propaganda, with which the school district rapes us of our hard earned dollars, and thought only one thing... Will my kid feel bad if they see that other parents took out an ad and I didn’t? And there they have us. But no! I’m one stubborn bitch if I’m anything. They’re not getting me that easily...
Hannah was sitting in the living room, dutifully filling out one of her college applications. I said, Hannah, I hope you won’t feel that I love you any less when I don’t take out a half page ad for $180 declaring it in the Kabekonian. She said, “Are you kidding me? People actually do that?”. I then went on to make fun of the whole thing, and ultimately ended up feeling even more guilty, because I knew that deep down inside, she might actually WISH that I had taken out the ad. What if she was just playing along to protect my feelings?! So, then I back peddled with talk about how we’re going on that trip to San Francisco together over spring break, in a fleeting attempt to justify the fact that I didn’t take out the ad and may or may not have hurt her feelings and crushed her spirit, creating the necessity for additional years in therapy someday to try and deal with the multitude of childhood traumas I’ve been a part of creating for her.
Guilt. It’s on the menu every damn night out here in Suburbia.
But, I’m still not putting in an ad.
I'm rocketed back to the day Mike came home from Central Middle School in White Bear Lake and told his mother and me that he needed $67.45 (or some amount equally ridiculous - memory fails me) for a calculator for math class. This was the straw that broke the ass's back. (Or was it some other beast of burden? - memory fails me) Apparently it's only gotten worse. No, forget the "apparently" part there. My mother used to say, back in 1974, that she was grateful that she didn't have to raise kids in these times, i.e. USA in the seventies. Did I say, it's only gotten worse?
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