Matthew Keenan

I learned this drill when our sons went to Rockhurst High School. There we acquired a library of obscure but nevertheless intellectually challenging textbooks on subjects like Latin, calculus, St. Ignatius of Loyola, plus a few others not found in the Library of Congress: Hawklet Football 101, for example.

But high school is barely a warm up for what awaits your kids in college. The New York Times reports that college textbooks have increased in price 6 percent a year — twice the inflation rate — from 1986 to 2004. According to College Board, the yearly estimate for the average student at a public university runs $1,168. And if you, like us, have two in college, I’d recommend you double your Tylenol dosage.

What worsens my mood is buying textbooks for classes no one would mistake for the classics. Some popular ones at KU that the Keenans have mastered — Geology 101 (Rocks for Jocks), Earthquakes and Natural Disasters (EQ’s and Natty D’s), and English 210 — Intro to Poetry (my sons are haiku masters). One might argue the boys are merely taking a page from their father’s curriculum from his days at KU. Yes, I took Sex Ed my senior year — a famously popular choice with the football and basketball teams and half the Greek system. There is much I retained from that class in spring 1981. Western Civilization, on the other hand — uh, no.

Not long ago the back-to-school budget would barely dent the wallet. After all, the checklist was modest — pencils, crayons, scissors, stapler, spiral notebooks and maybe a new backpack. Now parents drop dough on the tuition, the dorm bill and new bedding (the EPAdeclared last semester’s bedding a biohazard). Other moms may add to the list a first aid kit, Theraflu, smoke alarm batteries, calculators, smartphone upgrades, desk lamps, and permanent markers to plaster their sons’ names on clothing that tends to go missing (shirts, socks and boxers). Your list might also include a mini-fridge, futon, beer steins, and, for the truly fortunate, the Keg-o-Rator.

They head off to Lawrence, and for about three days, peace and quiet return to the homestead. That is until you get a text that says “txtbks — $650! Need CC!” These blasts invariably occur at a moment when you are dealing with your own crisis — like trying to find your Price Chopper card at checkout.

Most college expenses you know in advance and reduce the effect of sticker shock. Books, on the other hand, give you little warning.

Conventional solutions have never worked for us. Like buying used books. Yes, you get a price break and most kids love books already highlighted. Our kids find the graffiti on the margins very entertaining. But the inventory for used books is always thin and typically sold out. So you buy new and then hope to recoup your investment, less the wear and tear, which for our sons have no relevance. And then when you want to resell the now used book, guess what? Buzz kill. No market. The excuses are well known to us:

• “I’m sorry, they are no longer using that textbook. There is a new edition.”
• “The class is no longer offered.”
• “There is used, and then there is this book’s condition. I’m sorry. How did it get wet? And what ran over it? Twice?”

This year we are doing it differently, however. We are planning ahead with instructions that our sons buy them online from websites or possibly even rent them. Like most things, our grand plan will hit some speed bumps along the way. Which will become my problem at the worst possible moment. Guaranteed.