I have become a scary PTA mom. I fear that I frighten the principal, the teachers, and my fellow parents. I run around the halls every morning after drop-off like one of those crazy women with no life who lives vicariously through copy machines and bulletin board decorations.
Other moms and dads turn on their heels when they see me approach, certain that I am going to rook them into working at the Castro Street Fair (yea, so it’s San Francisco. So we do our school fundraising at a gay street party. So what?) or even ask them to write a check to the annual fund drive.
I’m not sure how I got into this. I mouthed off once that I had a professional background in fundraising. And I made friends with all the right (wrong?) people who were also those goody-goody, get-involved sort of parents. And before I knew it, I was the one that got on the short end of the rooking stick.
Yes, meet your new vice-president for fundraising, lord help us all.
It means a thousand extra emails a day. A few extra meetings. And one-hundred people coming up to me each day telling me they have a “great idea for a fundraiser” that I need to implement immediately. Now. Pronto. Snap snap. And, no, they don’t have time to help me out with their great idea.
So all of this piles on top of my “real” paid work, my family obligations, and some seriously personal stuff that I’m not just ready to write about yet.
But the weird thing is that in my heart I don’t exactly mind. I am actually one of those sorts of goody-goody parent too. The kind that thinks that public schools are part of a social contract. Where, yes, they can be tragically underfunded and gutted and trashed by politicians. But they are also full of incredibly hardworking teachers and staff, and bright little minds ready to be kneaded and prodded into productive directions. So those of us with the energy and the resources do what we can to help out. Even if we become scary PTA ladies.