A Bouquet of Newly Sharpened Pencils

"Don't you love...the fall? It makes me want to buy school supplies.  I would send you a bouquet of newly-sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address." 

~Nora Ephron (You've Got Mail)

For well over a month now I have been eyeing, yet resisting, the circulars from Staples, Office Max and Target in the Boston Sunday Globe.  According to these advertisers, it's been "back to school time" since mid-July.   I still don't want to admit that it's "back to school time" (even though tomorrow is the official first day of school), nor did I want to begin to glance at all the offerings in the circulars:  Uni-ball pens, many-colored paper clips, Post-it notes in the shape of the letter S, note pads with groovy flowers, eco-friendly paper, wipe board/bulletin board combos, funky magnets, etc.  As soon as I begin to look in these flyers, I am in School Supply Heaven and also in School Supply Hell.

As a educator, I have a love/hate relationship with school supplies.  At many points during my career, it has been incumbent upon me to buy supplies for my office, and because I have my own sense of style, I sometimes prefer to purchase supplies and office items that suit my taste.  On more occasions than I care to count, however, I have had to buy them simply because the school has run out of something.  Five years and three high schools ago, I remember that there was not a staple remover to be had in the entire 2000-person building.  So I went right out and purchased a pretty aqua staple remover - and matching stapler.  In my current high school, the only liquid paper we've had for years simply does not "white out."  Therefore, I generally treat myself to the white-out pens or strips, or my favorite, Bic White-Out with the foam brush.  I confess that I'm often very happy to have these excuses to buy office supplies.

I was in Staples three weeks ago to buy a new cord for my digital camera.  (In my zeal to clean out my condo, I inadvertently donated the cord for transferring photo data from camera to computer to the Salvation Army).  I found a salesman who told me to skip the cord and buy a Memory Card Reader instead.  Done. I should have been all set, right?  Wrong.  I spent the better part of the next hour wondering around Staples as if in a lovestruck fog.

How could I be expected to resist all the new items?  It's like being a kid in a candy store.  Or an addict in a crack store.  How does one choose from among the pens? Should I buy a new 5-pack of the Pentel RSVP medium point in plum?  I have three left from the last pack, but what if I lose those?!? Or worse, if someone steals one? I love the opaque blue Bic pens - the most streamlined design in a cheap pen since the white Papermate with the blue cap that I used to use all the time in college.  Maybe I should buy some of those!  It's all so irresistible!

And let's not forget the lowly pencil.  An old-fashioned pencil with a really sharp point makes me very  happy.  In the past year, I have taken to writing notes at my desk in pencil.  I don't know why I've begun doing that, but maybe because it's so basic, so organic.  When you write with a pencil, you can hear yourself writing.  That scratchy sound is evidence that your thoughts are one step closer to being shared.  Interestingly, I still prefer to write with pencils I purchased at Crate and Barrel ten, I repeat ten, years ago.  They are plain wood pencils each stained in a different color:  sage, cranberry or brown, and they have black erasers. Very chic, very stylish pencils - without a trace of the obnoxious orange that is painted on the typical #2.  The fact that I still have these pencils and still use them makes, pardon the pun, my next few points.  1) We really don't need as many office or school supplies as the advertising account managers for Staples would have us believe; 2) The amount of these small items for sale fuels conspicuous consumption and is environmentally irresponsible, and 3) owning too much stuff diminishes the value of all of it.

As I wandered around Staples in my silly delirium, I started to hear the voice of my frugal Italian grandmother inside my head.  Each time I picked up a packet of pens, I could hear Nonna saying, "How many pens does a person need?  One."  She's right, of course.  Each of us needs just ONE pen, the one with which we are writing at this very moment.  (And I'm not even writing; I'm typing.  Despite the fact that I write very little in longhand anymore, and in pencil to boot, I have 19 pens in my condo right now, and this does not include any that might be in my handbags or totes.  Nor does it include pencils.)   The Voice of Nonna also said, "Step away from the rainbow paper clips.  You have enough paper clips to last you for the rest of your life."  I repeat, for the rest of my life.  (Because paper clips multiply.  And don't say they don't.  This is just a biological fact.)  As I wandered around Staples and filled my basket, Nonna's voice got stronger and stronger.  This in turn became overwhelming, and ultimately, I set down the basket and walked out of the store, having purchased nothing but the Memory Card Reader that I actually needed (and now highly recommend).

As a self-described eco-freak faced living in America and bombarded daily with tempting advertisements, I also have to continually remind myself of my values about consumption, reduction and recycling, and this is not always easy.  The idea of all the "beautiful crap" floating around Staples sets up a horrible conflict between my senses and my rational mind.  Let's face it, if a clutter-reducing-pro-recycler like me can be seduced by the gentle waft of an open Sharpie marker, then no one is safe. 

My third and final revelation about office supplies came on a rainy day two weeks ago, when my family and I, unable to go to the beach and looking for something to do, went to visit Pilgrim Hall in Plymouth, Mass.  It's one stop in the Plimoth Plantation package that locals rarely see after their mandated field trip there in the third grade.  Within Pilgrim Hall are numerous artifacts that the Pilgrims carried with them on the Mayflower, and we were reminded that the Pilgrims couldn't take much, only a few items that had personal meaning to them.  Among the mugs, Bibles, and samplers, there were also quill pens, ink wells and writing desks. I imagine that the Pilgrims cherished office supplies, too, not because they had groovy flowers on them, but because it's these small things that we, Colonial and present-day Americans alike, use which imbue our lives with a little bit of meaning and pleasure.  It doesn't take much, maybe just a finely sharpened pencil or quill pen to make writing something to look forward to (even if you are writing out the Mayflower Compact in longhand). I very much understand why people are drawn to these small items; I just don't think that we need to have so many of them.

Like a harbinger of fall, school supplies mark the start of the new school year.  We know we're back to work when the new Post-its and, yes, more pens, appear on our desks as if by magic or the press of an Easy Button. When I went into work last week, I popped into my boss's office.  There, on the credenza, was a large box of white-out that had yet to be distributed.  I did a double-take.  It was the good stuff.  It was Bic!   I looked at him and said, "You guys sprung for the quality white-out?!?"  "Yup," he said. "Oh my God!" I said, "Can I have some?!"  "Of course," he said. I picked up a bottle and in that moment, I was very happy.