The Thing About Box Tops for Education

It’s reflexive.  I see that little rectangle of cardboard on a box and automatically rip it off.  I stick the little chips in a Ziploc-brand plastic bag (one of the participating products, I might add), and hand them over to one of my kids to take to school.  I think very little about the process, which has somehow been ingrained in my psyche.  I’m like a rat in a Skinner box.

But Psyche woke up.  A few days ago, a call went out on our school’s Facebook page to turn in our Box Tops for Education (or, as the logo reads, Box Top$ For Education).  I was surprised, given my own subconscious efforts,  to see the extended thread this announcement unfurled; it seemed over the (box) top.  The rules for submitting, for one.  The ideas to get kids to bring in more Box Tops so our school can exceed the amount of money received the year before, all through the submission of appropriately trimmed and bagged, non-expired cardboard dimes.  It seems to me the folks at BTFE were dictating these rules (who can actually read those teensy expirations dates??) just to see how many hoops school volunteers would jump through to raise money.  Then I realized my own new-found obsessiveness; all of a sudden I was by putting way more thought into this (box) topic than anyone on Facebook did.  With this perseveration, though, I came to a conclusion.  Yes, I thoughtlessly rip off those colorful little logos but

Box Top$ for Education is the real rip-off.

Now I am in full, 100 percent favor of contributing to my kids’ school.  We do so every year, throughout the year.  But I don’t think Box Top$ is the way to do it.  Here me out:

1.  The participating products are crap.  And some are truly garbage.  Cake mixes.  Froot by the Foot.  Bugles (I bought some the other day for a cub scout meeting and read the ingredient list.  In a word, yuck.  I’ll never buy them again.).  Sugary cereals.  In short, stuff we shouldn’t be buying and putting in our kids’ bodies.  And how about Ziplocs?  They fill up our landfills and are bad for the environment.  We shouldn’t be buying these items, either.  It’s no secret the food industry doesn’t have our health interests in mind and one quick glance at the list of Box Top’s participating products brings that into sharp focus.
2. The return for schools is worse than for Girl Scouts troops selling Thin Mints.  A Box Top is worth ten cents.  Say you purchase a box of Fruity Cheerios for $2.98 (the current going price on Prime Pantry).  Your school gets 0.03 percent of what you spent on those delicious O’s.  Yes.  0.03 percent.  Now occasionally there is the bonus of two Box Tops on a product.  So if you buy a 28-count box of gallon Ziplocs for $4.46, guess what the return is?  A whole 0.04 percent.  That’s worse than with the Cheerios.  So who’s cashing in here?  The product manufacturers.  And the schools get what’s found under the proverbially couch cushions.
3. The reckless investment (aka, Wall Street is not calling).  I understand my kids’ school made $1,100.00 last year from Box Top$ for Education.  Not chump change.  However, what did parents, grandparents, and teachers spend to bring that in?  Using the 0.03 percent rate of return, that amount is $36,667.00.  It doesn’t take a financial whiz to see that this is one bad investment.
4. The bottom line.  Full disclosure.  Do I buy cereal and Ziplocs and snacks-in-a-bag?  Should I stop because these items are just bad for us and the world in general?  Yes.  And yes.  And as if I need another reason to help my family eat and live better, here it is.  I sent 42 Box Tops to school this week, collected over the last  6 months.  That amounts to a whopping $4.20 for our school.  What did I actually spend for that contribution?

$4.20/0.03 = $140.00

Know what?   I’m going to hand our PTO a check;  it’s money spent with them in mind so the school should actually get it.

Box Top$ for Education is a clever system, a program veiled in philanthropy but in reality a marketing windfall for the companies making the participating products. The manufacturers are the ones cashing in, not our schools.  They play on our need for convenience, cravings for bad-for-us treats (those Bugles were darn addictive!) and the desire to give back to our children’s schools.  Who hasn’t bought a participating product over a competitor for the Box Top?  Almost effortlessly the system rakes in profits for companies like General Mills (net sales last year were $17.9 billion) and Ziploc.   And in exchange for our health and money?  These “philanthropic” businesses toss pocket change at our schools.  Personally, I think it’s insulting.

You wouldn’t tip a waiter in pennies.

You wouldn’t toss a few copper Lincolns in a sidewalk musician’s violin case.

This is no different.

It’s a waste.  Of our children’s health.  Of money we could just give to our schools cold.  Of the time school volunteers put into snipping and organizing the cardboard scraps when they could be helping out in classrooms.  And wouldn’t it be better to send a child to school having eaten oatmeal and a scrambled egg (non-Box Top products) rather than sugary Cinnamon Toast Crunch?  I think teachers would consider it pay dirt if kids were better fueled and more attentive.

But what if we are buying the stuff anyway?  I’m sure I’ll continue to buy participating products because we do eat cereal and use Kleenex.  But I’ll be more judicious.  I won’t buy a product for the Box Top, that’s for sure.  If I find a Box Top, I’ll snip it; it’s silly to leave money on the table.  But then I’ll set aside the real $$ I spent for that box of Kleenex or box of cereal and give it to the school.

[BTW, my apologies to the person who had to trim the Box Tops I’ve sent to school.  I sincerely had no clue I had to follow the dotted lines.  I really did learn to use scissors in Kindergarten.  But you may justifiable cuss me out for ignoring the obvious on those dang bits of cardboard.]