A lot of people don’t realize it, but the lead-up to the first day of school is pretty darned amazing. It starts innocently
enough, with the first end-of-summer sale that comes just before the first back-to-school sale.
Then there is the subtle story outlining the economic impact of the start of school. This year it comes from Michigan State
University, where a recent survey showed that the average family spends $483 for each school child. Studies like that
must be sneak attacks to prepare the way for the academic buying frenzy.
Four hundred eighty-three bucks each, just to be average.
The unspoken subtext for studies like these is that, if I don’t spend my $500, then I am an unfit parent who is willfully trying
to produce below-average children.
I used to have a lot of respect for university studies that examine the economic impact of school purchases. But then again,
the recent trip to the store to buy all the back-to-school stuff that every kid absolutely has to have every year has made me
think that our state universities might serve us better by conducting a study on area garage sales, sorted by the age of the
children in the family.
The biggest purchases I made this year were new lunch boxes. The oldest kid left an open cup of applesauce inside the
nylon Spiderman box all summer, and the youngest has been using his metal Incredible Hulk lunchbox to store his dirty
socks. When I asked him why he was putting smelly old sock in a perfectly good lunchbox, he replied, “Where else can I
put them, Papa?”
Oh sure, I understand what going back to school is all about. I remember walking to school and sitting at the new desk
and opening the cardboard cigar box with its stash of new erasers, pencils, crayons, crayon sharpener, and safety scissors
all nestled alongside the package of Kleenex tissues. I especially remember the familiar smell of unburned tobacco and
that I hadn't learned to associate it with close-up images of diseased lungs. I was proud of my Big Chief writing tablets
and subject folders with pictures of Scooby Doo or the Flintstones embossed all over the outside. But come on, what
kind of cash did my parents lay down for all that, $8?
Today, according to the television, if your child doesn't have a laptop computer, then all the other kids are going to laugh at
him. If he isn't sporting brand new sneakers with wheels that pop out of the sole, then he might as well be wearing a
wooden potato barrel. If he doesn't have an iPhone, then he probably should save time by smacking his face into the door
of a locker before the next lowest kid on the totem pole gives him a black eye for being such a complete dweeb. My sons
can only hope that there are other parents who are not buying their kids iPhones this year.
But there is a big part of me that sincerely anticipated the first day of school.
It’s been a long tiresome summer, filled with wholesome family activities that mostly revolved around mom and dad telling
the children to stop hitting each other.
Sure, some people might think that public school is little more than state-subsidized childcare. Some of a more poetic
nature might say that schools are vital treasure maps that guide a human from the tranquil island of childhood past the
jagged rocks of adolescence and onto the comfy shores of an enlightened adult working as a greeter at Wal-Mart. But for
me, public school is the intervening force that insures my children don’t drive me bug nut crazy.
There’s a certain comfort knowing that for the next nine or ten months, somebody else is going to get bombarded with
questions like:
“Where, exactly, does toe jam come from and should we refrigerate it?”
“If a radioactive meteor suddenly turns me into a monster, would I have laser beams coming out of my eyes, be able to
shoot my claws as if they were missiles, or would my spit dissolve anything it touched into goo?”
“If the world were made out of jelly beans, then what color would that make the sky?”
“Why won’t the dog eat my little brother?”
For the next several months, I will let the public school system field those vitally important questions. And when I think of
the hardworking teachers and the infinite patience they each must exhibit, I really don’t mind the trip to the back-to-school
sale.
WHAT YOU NEED
1 (10-ounce) can refrigerated pizza crust dough
1/4 pound Genoa salami, thinly sliced
1/4 pound pepperoni sausage, sliced and diced
1/4 pound provolone cheese, sliced
1/2 cup shredded mozzarella cheese
WHAT YOU DO
1. Set the oven to 350 (175 degrees C) and lightly grease a large baking sheet.
2. Roll out the pizza crust dough into an approximately 10x14-inch rectangle on the baking sheet.
3. Place a layer of salami, followed by pepperoni, and ending with provolone cheese.
4. Sprinkle mozzarella cheese to within 1/2 inch from edges of the dough. Roll it up like it was a sleeping bag, except start
on the long edge. Some people call it jelly roll style. 5. Seal the edge by laying the seam down on the cookie sheet.
6. Bake it for 25 minutes, or until golden brown. Slice into 1 inch pieces to serve.
Copyright 2007
Macho Chef is a registered trademark
enough, with the first end-of-summer sale that comes just before the first back-to-school sale.
Then there is the subtle story outlining the economic impact of the start of school. This year it comes from Michigan State
University, where a recent survey showed that the average family spends $483 for each school child. Studies like that
must be sneak attacks to prepare the way for the academic buying frenzy.
Four hundred eighty-three bucks each, just to be average.
The unspoken subtext for studies like these is that, if I don’t spend my $500, then I am an unfit parent who is willfully trying
to produce below-average children.
I used to have a lot of respect for university studies that examine the economic impact of school purchases. But then again,
the recent trip to the store to buy all the back-to-school stuff that every kid absolutely has to have every year has made me
think that our state universities might serve us better by conducting a study on area garage sales, sorted by the age of the
children in the family.
The biggest purchases I made this year were new lunch boxes. The oldest kid left an open cup of applesauce inside the
nylon Spiderman box all summer, and the youngest has been using his metal Incredible Hulk lunchbox to store his dirty
socks. When I asked him why he was putting smelly old sock in a perfectly good lunchbox, he replied, “Where else can I
put them, Papa?”
Oh sure, I understand what going back to school is all about. I remember walking to school and sitting at the new desk
and opening the cardboard cigar box with its stash of new erasers, pencils, crayons, crayon sharpener, and safety scissors
all nestled alongside the package of Kleenex tissues. I especially remember the familiar smell of unburned tobacco and
that I hadn't learned to associate it with close-up images of diseased lungs. I was proud of my Big Chief writing tablets
and subject folders with pictures of Scooby Doo or the Flintstones embossed all over the outside. But come on, what
kind of cash did my parents lay down for all that, $8?
Today, according to the television, if your child doesn't have a laptop computer, then all the other kids are going to laugh at
him. If he isn't sporting brand new sneakers with wheels that pop out of the sole, then he might as well be wearing a
wooden potato barrel. If he doesn't have an iPhone, then he probably should save time by smacking his face into the door
of a locker before the next lowest kid on the totem pole gives him a black eye for being such a complete dweeb. My sons
can only hope that there are other parents who are not buying their kids iPhones this year.
But there is a big part of me that sincerely anticipated the first day of school.
It’s been a long tiresome summer, filled with wholesome family activities that mostly revolved around mom and dad telling
the children to stop hitting each other.
Sure, some people might think that public school is little more than state-subsidized childcare. Some of a more poetic
nature might say that schools are vital treasure maps that guide a human from the tranquil island of childhood past the
jagged rocks of adolescence and onto the comfy shores of an enlightened adult working as a greeter at Wal-Mart. But for
me, public school is the intervening force that insures my children don’t drive me bug nut crazy.
There’s a certain comfort knowing that for the next nine or ten months, somebody else is going to get bombarded with
questions like:
“Where, exactly, does toe jam come from and should we refrigerate it?”
“If a radioactive meteor suddenly turns me into a monster, would I have laser beams coming out of my eyes, be able to
shoot my claws as if they were missiles, or would my spit dissolve anything it touched into goo?”
“If the world were made out of jelly beans, then what color would that make the sky?”
“Why won’t the dog eat my little brother?”
For the next several months, I will let the public school system field those vitally important questions. And when I think of
the hardworking teachers and the infinite patience they each must exhibit, I really don’t mind the trip to the back-to-school
sale.
After School Special
WHAT YOU NEED
1 (10-ounce) can refrigerated pizza crust dough
1/4 pound Genoa salami, thinly sliced
1/4 pound pepperoni sausage, sliced and diced
1/4 pound provolone cheese, sliced
1/2 cup shredded mozzarella cheese
WHAT YOU DO
1. Set the oven to 350 (175 degrees C) and lightly grease a large baking sheet.
2. Roll out the pizza crust dough into an approximately 10x14-inch rectangle on the baking sheet.
3. Place a layer of salami, followed by pepperoni, and ending with provolone cheese.
4. Sprinkle mozzarella cheese to within 1/2 inch from edges of the dough. Roll it up like it was a sleeping bag, except start
on the long edge. Some people call it jelly roll style. 5. Seal the edge by laying the seam down on the cookie sheet.
6. Bake it for 25 minutes, or until golden brown. Slice into 1 inch pieces to serve.
Copyright 2007
Macho Chef is a registered trademark
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