I started obsessing over my son’s school supply list. I realized I was just anxious about him starting middle school.

Sure, we helped him tackle the small challenges of elementary school: making it out the door on time, remembering to put his name on his schoolwork, and resolving playdate disagreements. But drugs and alcohol? Porn and internet predators? How could he possibly be ready for all of that?

I longed for a way to crisis-proof my kid with self-esteem bubble wrap, ensuring he could somehow leave middle school with his sense of self intact.

I channeled my anxiety by trying to make things perfect for my kid

By August, anxiety over the unknowns ahead squeezed me like a scratchy, too-tight sweater. When I received the email with a recommended school supply list for the upcoming year, I pounced.

While I knew I couldn’t forestall every landmine ahead, I could make sure he showed up to school with a fierce array of school supplies. I printed out the list and flew into action.

I researched pens (erasable! left-hand friendly! continuous flow ink!), locker shelves, and binders. The pile of boxes towering on my doorstep had me second-guessing my strategy — as did my husband’s eyebrows, which raised higher and higher with each delivery truck. But my anxiety and uncertainty kept me clicking “Add to Cart.”

The night before school started, I sat in the living room unboxing, unpackaging, organizing, and arranging. With each swish, zip, and click of the binder rings, I sent out a silent prayer to the universe: May you be happy, safe, and free from adolescent angst and insecurity.

I need to rely on my kid to show me his needs

Maybe the prayers worked, or maybe he never needed them at all because two months into middle school, my son was thriving. He was making new friends easily and managing the increased workload better than I’d imagined possible. He was not the victim of any vicious bullying or inescapable peer-validation treadmills.

He was doing great — not because of some protective shield of perfectly tabbed binder folders I’d curated, but because of his resilience and resourcefulness. And most of the supplies I bought? They remained totally untouched.

I’d let the noise of the outside world and my own fears drown out the one person I needed to pay attention to most: my son.

Though there will be more twists and turns as we navigate teenagerhood, I learned my lessons from the Great School Supply Panic of 2022. There is no way to pen-proof my child against the challenges of adolescence.

All I can do is remember to be a parent who listens more closely to how her child is actually doing. I need to keep reminding him of who he is and try to enjoy the view from the passenger seat as he starts taking more of the wheel. (Theoretically, of course. There’s no way I’m ready for the real thing.)