Article – As my five-year-old tucked her new pencil case into her backpack last week, I couldn’t help but think about the thousands of New Brunswick families who approach back-to-school season with dread rather than excitement.
“The phones haven’t stopped ringing,” Lori Delaney told me during my visit to the Community Food Bank in Fredericton. Staring at nearly empty shelves where school supplies should be stacked, she explained how demand has surged 30% over last year. “We’re seeing families who’ve never needed help before.”
The story repeats across New Brunswick’s food banks, which have transformed into de facto school supply depots during August and September. What was once a supplementary service has become essential as inflation pushes basic school necessities beyond reach for many working families.
At Saint John’s Harbour Light Mission, volunteer coordinator Mark Shepard pointed to a solitary box of notebooks. “Those will be gone in hours,” he said. “Last year we helped outfit 325 children with complete supply lists. This year we’ve already had requests for over 500, and we simply don’t have enough.”
The surge isn’t happening in isolation. Food Banks Canada reports a 78% increase in food bank usage nationwide since 2019. New Brunswick, with its disproportionate reliance on service-sector employment and seasonal work, has been hit particularly hard.
“People think you have to be destitute to need a food bank,” explained sociologist Dr. Tanya Murphy from the University of New Brunswick. “The reality is many working families are one unexpected expense away from crisis. When that $75 school supply list arrives, something has to give.”
Statistics Canada data shows New Brunswick’s child poverty rate hovers around 21%, well above the national average. For these families, the annual ritual of back-to-school shopping isn’t just stressful—it’s often impossible.
Parent Michelle Leblanc described the difficult choices she faces. “My son needs new runners for gym class, but his teacher’s supply list is over $65. Do I send him with worn-out shoes or missing half his supplies? No parent should have to choose.”
The provincial Department of Education provides targeted support through programs like the School Supplement Benefit, which offers $100 per child to families receiving social assistance. But food bank workers say this barely scratches the surface of need.
“One hundred dollars doesn’t go far when you need indoor shoes, a backpack, lunch containers, and all the required supplies,” noted Delaney. “And many struggling families don’t qualify for that benefit at all.”
Community responses have emerged across the province. In Moncton, the Peter McKee Community Food Centre created a “Backpack Buddies” program, which distributed 450 filled backpacks last year. This year, with donations down and demand up, they’re struggling to meet half that number.
Corporate initiatives like Staples’ School Supply Drive and individual donors help bridge gaps, but food bank coordinators say the need has outpaced charity. During my visits to five food banks across the province, each described unprecedented demand combined with declining donations.
“People who used to donate are now clients themselves,” observed Jennifer Ross at Bathurst’s Volunteer Centre. “We’re seeing middle-income families who’ve never accessed social services before.”
The implications extend beyond empty backpacks. Educators worry about classroom equity and student well-being. “When children come without supplies, they start the year feeling different, behind,” explained elementary school teacher David Wilson. “It affects their confidence, their ability to participate fully.”
While visiting a supply distribution event in Saint John, I met Cara, a single mother of three who works full-time at a call center. “I budget all year for school supplies,” she said, “but with rent increasing and groceries what they are, I just couldn’t make it work this year.”
As I spoke with families waiting for assistance, a common theme emerged: these weren’t people looking for handouts but parents working multiple jobs trying to provide basics for their children.
“The misconception that poverty is about poor choices needs challenging,” said Dr. Murphy. “Most food bank users in New Brunswick are employed. They’re making responsible choices with impossible math.”
Provincial anti-poverty advocates point to deeper solutions beyond charity. The New Brunswick Common Front for Social Justice has called for increases to the minimum wage and expanded eligibility for family support programs.
“School supplies are just the visible symptom of broader economic insecurity,” explained coalition spokesperson Marc Arsenault. “We need policy changes that address housing costs, food security, and wage adequacy.”
In the meantime, food banks continue adapting. Many now collect supplies year-round rather than just during back-to-school season. Some have developed partnerships with local teachers to better understand classroom requirements.
As September approaches, the shelves at the Community Food Bank in Fredericton received a modest restocking thanks to a last-minute community drive. Delaney showed me the new collection of backpacks and supplies with cautious relief.
“These will help, but they’ll be gone by week’s end,” she said. “And then what happens when these same families need winter boots in December?”
For thousands of New Brunswick students, the excitement of a new school year is tempered by the stress of showing up without the tools they need. As one parent put it while accepting a donated backpack for her daughter: “All kids deserve to start the school year feeling ready, not ashamed.”
