Remember those days when your biggest worry was whether you had enough lead for your mechanical pencil? The 1970s were a golden era for school supplies—not because they were particularly effective, but because they were so darn fun. From the sweet smell of mimeographed worksheets to the satisfying snap of a Trapper Keeper closing, these items weren’t just tools for learning; they were status symbols in the classroom hierarchy.
1. Scented Markers
Those colorful Mr. Sketch markers with their fruity aromas were the highlight of any art project in the ’70s. We’d spend more time sniffing the grape, cherry, and blueberry scents than actually coloring with them, leading to some interesting light-headed moments during craft time. The colors would fade after a few uses, and they’d dry out if you left the caps off for more than five minutes, but we cherished them anyway. According to USA Today, scented markers are enjoying something of a resurgence.
The brown marker—supposedly chocolate-scented but smelling suspiciously like something else—was always the subject of playground humor that would make our teachers roll their eyes. Despite their tendency to bleed through paper and stain our hands for days, these markers were coveted treasures in every student’s pencil box. Nothing said “my parents love me” quite like showing up with the complete 12-pack set while other kids made do with regular boring Crayolas.
2. Trapper Keeper
The Trapper Keeper was the ultimate organizational system that somehow made us less organized despite its promises. Those velcro closures would rip open with a satisfying tear that announced your arrival to class, while the colorful designs featuring spaceships, puppies, or racing cars made your personal style statement. The folders inside were supposed to keep everything neat, but somehow papers would still end up crumpled at the bottom of our backpacks. Mental Floss recounts a history of trapper keepers that’s surprisingly deep.
The plastic covering would inevitably crack by November, and those metal rings would misalign to create a frustrating gap where papers would escape. Despite these flaws, owning a Trapper Keeper was practically a requirement for social acceptance in middle school. Nothing matched the pride of walking into school on the first day with a brand new Trapper Keeper, its pristine vinyl unmarked by the semester of abuse that would follow.
3. Mechanical Pencils with Those Tiny Lead Refills
These technological marvels promised to eliminate the need for pencil sharpeners but introduced a whole new world of problems. The little container of lead refills was nearly impossible to open without spilling the microscopic graphite sticks across your desk or floor. You’d push the button repeatedly only to watch the lead extend and then immediately break off, leaving you with nothing but frustration. EndlessPens goes into the nuances of how a mechanical pencil works.
The erasers were another exercise in futility, worn down to the metal within days and then scraping holes through your paper. Yet we persisted with these pencils, feeling supremely sophisticated compared to our classmates still using those yellow #2 pencils. There was an unspoken coolness factor to clicking that button during tests, even if it earned you dirty looks from both teachers and students.
4. Scratch-and-Sniff Stickers
These aromatic rewards were the currency of elementary school in the ’70s, exchanged like precious gems on the playground. Teachers would place them on top of good assignments, instantly transforming a mundane spelling test into a trophy to be proudly displayed on the refrigerator. The pizza ones never quite smelled like actual pizza, and the pickle stickers were strangely appealing despite their odd vinegary scent.
After a few weeks, the scents would fade, leaving you with just regular stickers that lost their magical appeal. We’d scratch harder and harder, trying to release more fragrance until the picture itself wore away completely. Despite their temporary nature, these stickers were collected in special albums and traded with the seriousness of Wall Street brokers, complete with complex negotiations over the relative value of a root beer sticker versus two grape ones.
5. Book Sox
These stretchy fabric book covers were supposed to protect our textbooks from damage, but they mostly just provided a canvas for doodling and writing band names. Putting them on was an exercise in patience and dexterity, often resulting in air bubbles and wrinkles that would drive the perfectionists among us to distraction. The patterns ranged from trippy psychedelic swirls to space scenes that looked like something from a low-budget sci-fi movie.
By mid-year, the Sox would be stretched out, stained with ink, and collecting mysterious crumbs in their elastic edges. Teachers insisted we use them to avoid textbook fees, but the books somehow ended up more damaged inside the Sox than they might have been without them. Nothing was more embarrassing than having your Book Sox slip off during class, causing your heavy geography book to crash dramatically to the floor during a quiet study period.
6. Pink Pearl Erasers
These pink rectangular erasers were supposed to be the solution to all our pencil mistakes, but they often created more problems than they solved. They’d leave pink smudges across the page, tear holes in your paper if you rubbed too hard, and create those little eraser “worms” that would scatter everywhere. We’d use them until they were tiny nubs, impossible to hold but too precious to throw away.
The scent of a Pink Pearl was distinctive—a slightly sweet, rubbery aroma that permeated every classroom in America. Despite their shortcomings, these erasers were also secret tools for carving tiny sculptures during boring lessons or creating primitive rubber stamps. Teachers could always identify the daydreamers by the pile of pink eraser shavings on their desks and the diminutive size of their once-rectangular erasers.
7. Spiral Notebooks with Wild Covers
These notebooks promised organization but delivered frustration with their metal spirals that inevitably snagged on everything and eventually twisted out of shape. The covers featured everything from rainbow unicorns to psychedelic patterns to popular TV shows like “Charlie’s Angels” or “The Six Million Dollar Man.” The paper inside was thin enough that your pen would often bleed through to the next three pages, creating ghost writing that confused you later.
By the end of the semester, several pages would be hanging precariously from single coils, and the covers would be dog-eared and decorated with our own artistic additions. Despite their flaws, choosing a new notebook each school year was a deeply personal decision that reflected your personality and interests. Nothing was more satisfying than ripping out a page along the perforated edge and actually getting a clean tear—a rare achievement that deserved its own celebration.
8. Mimeographed Worksheets
Before photocopiers became commonplace, teachers distributed these purple-inked worksheets that had a distinctive chemical smell we all secretly loved. We’d hold them to our noses the moment they were handed out, taking deep whiffs that probably killed a few brain cells but gave us a momentary rush of something akin to happiness. The text was often faded and blurry in places, giving us the perfect excuse for wrong answers: “I couldn’t read the question!”
The purple ink would transfer to your hands, papers, and somehow your face, marking you as someone who’d been doing schoolwork. The ditto machines that created these sheets were temperamental beasts that teachers had to wrestle with before class, often arriving with purple-stained hands and a look of triumph when they successfully ran off 30 copies. Technology has advanced, but no PDF or digital worksheet has ever provided the multi-sensory experience of a fresh mimeographed page.
9. Plastic Pencil Boxes
These hard plastic cases were supposedly designed to organize our supplies but mostly served as drums during bored moments and weapons during less supervised ones. They came in every color imaginable, with flip-top lids that would snap off after a few weeks of being opened 50 times a day. The little compartments inside were never the right size for anything we actually needed to store.
By mid-year, the hinge would be broken, and the interior would become a jumbled mess of pencil shavings, broken crayons, and mysterious sticky substances. Yet we loved these boxes fiercely, decorating them with stickers and guarding them jealously when other kids tried to “borrow” from our stash. Having the same pencil box as your best friend was a planned strategy, a visible symbol of your childhood allegiance that was displayed proudly on your desk each day.
10. PeeChee Folders
The iconic cream-colored folders with athletes silhouetted in action poses on the cover held our papers and our childhood dreams. We’d customize them with elaborate doodles, band logos, crush initials surrounded by hearts, and occasionally some actual school-related notes. The interior pockets were never quite large enough to hold everything, resulting in papers sticking out at odd angles and eventually falling out when you least expected it.
The folders would be bent, torn, and generally abused by October, but they still somehow made it through the school year—if only as a shadow of their former selves. Teachers would sigh heavily when they saw how we’d transformed the clean-cut athletes on the cover into long-haired rock stars or given them speech bubbles with phrases that would never pass classroom censorship. These folders weren’t just paper holders; they were our first legitimate canvas for self-expression.
11. Slide Rules
Before calculators became affordable, these mysterious rulers with sliding middle parts were supposedly mathematical magic wands. Most of us had no idea how to properly use them despite teachers’ best efforts to explain logarithmic scales and multiplication properties. We’d move the middle part back and forth importantly during math tests, hoping to appear intelligent while mostly guessing at the answers.
The plastic slide rules would warp if left near a heater or in the sun, rendering them even more useless than they already were in our inexperienced hands. Only the true math nerds mastered these devices, wearing their slide rule holsters with the same pride that cowboys displayed their six-shooters. When affordable calculators finally appeared, slide rules disappeared practically overnight, relegated to the dustbin of educational history.
12. Gelly Roll Pens
These pens with their smooth, glossy ink made homework seem like less of a chore and more of an artistic opportunity. The metallic and glitter versions were particularly prized, even though teachers would refuse assignments written in silver ink that was impossible to read. The pens would work brilliantly for about two days before becoming temperamental, requiring scribbles on scrap paper to coax the ink flow back to life.
We’d collect these pens in every color, creating elaborate organizational systems for our personal rainbow of writing implements. Despite their tendency to blob ink unexpectedly or stop working mid-sentence, they were treasured possessions that friends were only allowed to borrow under strict supervision. Nothing caused more classroom drama than a loaned Gelly Roll that was returned with a bent tip or—the ultimate tragedy—completely out of ink.
13. Liquid Paper
This white correction fluid promised to erase our typing mistakes but created its own special brand of mess. We’d paint it on thickly, blow on it impatiently, then type over it too soon, creating a gummy disaster on both the paper and the typewriter keys. The smell was unmistakable—a chemical concoction that probably violated several safety regulations but gave us a little buzz during late-night homework sessions.
The bottles would tip over with alarming regularity, creating white puddles that dried into crusty messes on desks and clothing. When Liquid Paper finally dried properly, it created a raised surface that was immediately obvious to teachers who knew exactly what we were trying to hide. Despite its flaws, this miracle product saved countless assignments from being completely retyped, even if the final result looked like a document with a bad case of dandruff.
Those school days of the 1970s may be long behind us, but the memories of these imperfect yet beloved supplies remain surprisingly vivid. Perhaps it wasn’t about how well they worked but about the shared experiences they created—the leaked pen ink, the broken pencil leads, and the collective aroma of mimeograph fluid that permeated our classrooms. In today’s world of digital tablets and cloud storage, there’s something wonderfully tactile and human about remembering these flawed tools that helped shape our education and, in some small way, who we became.
