Back-to-School Survival Guide for Parents: May the Odds Be Ever in Your Favor

By Lisa Miller & Tatiana Guerreiro Ramos

Congratulations, parents of middle and high schoolers. You’ve graduated from glue sticks and snack duty to eye rolls and forgotten gym clothes. Back-to-school season is here, and it’s less “sharpen your pencils” and more “brace for impact.” Here are some pro tips you may find useful.

Tip #1: Your teen is now allergic to mornings

Remember when they used to wake up at 6 a.m. on Saturdays? Yeah, that’s over. Now you’re trying to drag a half-conscious adolescent out of bed using a combination of threats, bribes, and interpretive dance. Pro tip: invest in a foghorn or a spray bottle. Or both.

Tip #2: School supplies are still a scam

You thought you were done with the supply list madness? Think again. Now it’s graphing calculators that cost more than your first car, and notebooks that will mysteriously vanish into the void by October. Just Venmo the school your paycheck and call it a day.

Tip #3: The backpack is a black hole

You will never see a permission slip again. It’s in there, somewhere, along with a half-eaten granola bar, three broken pencils, and the will to succeed. Don’t go in. It’s not safe.

Tip #4: Lunch is a negotiation

They don’t want what you packed. They don’t want what the school serves. They want $14 for a burrito and a boba. Every. Single. Day. You’re not raising a student—you’re funding a small food truck empire.

Tip #5: The calendar is a minefield

Between sports, clubs, AP exams, and the occasional existential crisis, your teen’s schedule is more complicated than a NASA launch. You’ll need a shared calendar, a backup calendar, and possibly a project manager.

Tip #6: You are now tech support

You don’t understand the school portal. Neither do they. But somehow, it’s your fault when the Wi-Fi goes down, the printer jams, or the Chromebook dies five minutes before a paper is due. Welcome to IT.

Final thoughts: You’re doing great (even if they don’t say it)

Your teen may not thank you. They may grunt in your general direction and disappear into their room. But you’re showing up. You’re packing lunches, signing forms, and pretending to understand algebra again. That’s heroic.

So pour yourself a strong coffee (or something stronger), high-five yourself in the mirror, and remember: you’ve survived middle school drama and high school hormones before—and you’ll do it again.

You’ve got this. Probably.