A collection built on milk money
I recently learned how to acquire a priceless collection for the price of $12.50. And I have my 8-year-old second-grader to thank.
Second-graders do a lot of math problems related to money. During one of them, Ravi realized that quarters come with different states on the back. Before I knew it, he was deep in the throes of a collecting frenzy unmatched since his Yu-Gi-Oh! card phase two years ago.
Like many kids today he has a tight schedule, but he found time, stayed focused, and his collection steadily grew. He kept his hard-won quarters in a Ziploc bag and counted them every night like Ebenezer Scrooge. Dedicated numismatists might buy uncirculated proofs, but he was happy with his coins, each of which had a story to tell. Some had been found in the jar of change on the kitchen counter. Others had been seized from the floor of the minivan, the bottom of Grandma's handbag, or exchanged with a friend.
I didn't really help, except for providing quarters to swap with, but Ravi managed to recruit a growing army of helpers. This strategy proved highly effective. After karate, a friend of Ravi's brought him "Colorado." He found "North Carolina," but alas his Mom fed it to the parking meter.
Ravi breezed through much of the lower 48 at the start, but then things slowed down a bit. Duplicates piled up, of which he kept the shiniest, but new states were hard to find. I began to wonder how to help. I even toyed with the idea of
I help out at my children's school as a parent volunteer by selling milk and helping the lunch staff in the cafeteria once a week. Milk is 40 cents, and a richer lode of quarters does not exist. I had Ravi write out the list of states he hadn't found yet without telling him of my plan. The next time I went in to sell milk I brought his list and a pocket full of quarters.
"What are you doing?" a tow-headed kindergartner at the front of the line inquired that day, as I peered at the two quarters he handed me with my not-so-young eyes. The milk-buying regulars like to chat. I explained my mission and some kids down the line immediately scanned their milk money. Amazingly, kindergartners who can hardly read seemed perfectly capable of identifying states! What's more they could even tell Philadelphia-minted coins from Denver ones, a feat I certainly can't accomplish without a magnifying glass. By the time kindergarten and first grade had their chocolate, skim, and whole, I had six of the 10 states on Ravi's list.
When the second-graders trooped in to eat their lunch, someone was in for a grand surprise. I set the six quarters down next to Ravi's lunch box and hurried back to the milk table. From a distance I could see an awed look spread across his face. Two thumbs up and a huge grin said everything.
That weekend when I was away at a conference my husband, probably sick of having to hear of Mom's coup, decided to get in the game. When I returned, Ravi had ditched the now fraying Ziploc bag and transferred his collection to a spiffy state quarter folder. Dad had actually taken the kids shopping to the craft store! This was an impressive effort on my husband's part. Usually, he would rather wait in the parking lot on a 100-degree day or have his teeth pulled than set foot in a craft store.
Ravi soon found the last few quarters, the final one, "Michigan," from his piggybank, which amazingly he had overlooked. Looking ahead, he has the upcoming release dates of "Idaho", "Wyoming" and "Utah" marked carefully on the calendar.
But we're far from done. Anika, my 7-year-old first-grader, has been going through the jar of Ravi's extra quarters. "I found 20 states already.
Mom!" she announced one morning, clutching a half-full Ziploc bag.
"Can I have a coin folder just like Ravi?"
At least I have a few more days of selling milk to get her going before the start of summer vacation.
Nandini Bajpai lives and writes in Natick. 
