I would rather my kid have a scoliotic back for the rest of his life from carrying heavy textbooks as a tween than carry the internal shame of having been the kid with the rolling backpack, because that shit is way heavier. Once I saw a kid with a rolling backpack fall head-first down a flight of stairs, and let me tell you, that backpack was close to lethal when it landed on top of him. I’ll never forget the tableau of the poor guy as he lay in a crumpled heap at the foot of the stairs, his cuffed sweatpants exposing his skinny ankles in all of their tube-sock-clad glory, the fallen backpack open next to him with papers falling out. This truly depressing sight crystallized my opinion that the rolling backpack is more a form of cruel and unusual punishment than a helpful tool to prevent your child from slipping a disc.
One thought on “Why I’m Anti Rolling Backpacks”
On point. As we may or may not have discussed in life, my mother purchased one of these for me in the 8th grade. Wholly undignified, I almost never lived it down. My classmates named my backpack, and for a whole year it felt like I had an imaginary friend. The next year we purchased two sets of textbooks to prevent scoliosis and I resumed normal social activities.
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