19 Reasons Why Nothing Will Ever Beat Going Back To Elementary School
Heading back to school, as an adult, just doesn’t have the same pizzazz that it once did. Sure, college is cool. You’ll return to your fraternity or sorority, and unlimited freedom from your parents.
Yet, deep down, you know nothing will ever top heading back to elementary school as a kid. You didn’t have any real hormones yet, so there was no pressure to get laid. Your classwork consisted of coloring within the lines, so there was very little administrative pressures, either.
Your Spiderman lunchbox was stocked with Gushers, and your backpack was brimming with fluorescent-colored Lisa Frank sh*t. When you’d leave for the bus in the morning, your mom would mourn your departure.
When you’d return home in the afternoon, your mom would greet you like Prince Akeem returning from a brief stay in Manhattan.
I think it’s fair to say that heading back to elementary school came along with some of the best times of our lives. Which is depressing, considering we we’re probably 6 or 7. Anyway, here are the 19 things that made those years unforgettable.
Mom would buy you new clothes on the first day of school, like it was your Bar Mitzvah every September.
And you actually looked forward to school…
I mean, as a 7-year-old, summer either consisted of a lot of time spent with parents – or a lot of time spent at camp. Either way, seeing all your friends in one place again was the straight up tits.
…and your kick game was too fly.
Should I wear the Heelies today? Or the velcro joints that light up? Decisions, decisions…
The yellow bus in the morning was shadily far more social than your future party-bus to after-prom.
And sometimes turned into pizza, too, like The Magic School Bus.
You'd finally get the chance to see the girl you have a crush on again.
Deep down, every young prince is just out here looking for his own Topanga.
There were no “popular kids” yet.
Actually, there were. Except instead of having designer clothes, they had designer school supplies.
Ugh. Is ALL of your sh*t really Lisa Frank? Your parents must be Deadheads.
Which went to good use considering schoolwork consisted of doodling sh*t…
Which reminds me, Mr Sketch scented markers smelled amazing and were the first time I got high.
Realistically, they smelt TOO good not to sniff until delirium.
Which also reminds me, passing out in class was totally chill.
In fact, it was somewhat encouraged.
I dare you to find me an elementary school teacher who was agitated with the concept of fewer obnoxious children to keep track of. Double dog dare you.
Your lunchbox definitely said a lot about you.
The future jocks had Yankees or Dodgers lunchboxes. The future stoners had “Ren and Stimpy” ones. The less blessed used brown bags. Ignore it if you want – your lunchbox shaped you.
The packed lunch mom prepared still can't be touched.
Man oh man, what’d mom pack today? Dunkaroos, Hi-C (with the slime dude), Capri Sun, the crusts cut off… you just can’t top whatever mom had ready for you.
Except for pizza sales…
…Or Lunchables, too, actually.
They were pretty much just a sh*ttier quality version of what your mom would pack for you – yet, you’d have to do something extra-special for a day’s lunch to be deemed “Lunchable-worthy.”
That amazing moment when you see your boy in homeroom…
In all fairness, kickball during recess got way more emotional than it probably should have.
I’m not exactly sure why I’m crying, like, we’re playing again tomorrow.
Scholastic Book Orders were your first shopping sprees at your parents’ expense.
I definitely can’t read yet, but I’ll be damned if daddy doesn’t buy me every goddamn book in this catalog.
Sprinting home from the bus, in the afternoon, supplied all the cardio your 7-year-old body needed.
Photo Courtesy: We Heart It
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