Growing up, I was never a joiner. I never wanted to try out for cheer leading or run for student council. I liked coveting my own group of friends, fostering my own interests. I liked books, theater, and Elvis Costello. This was at a time when most of my peers were glued to Beverly Hills 90210 and Janet Jackson. For most of high school, in fact, I took a special pleasure in not joining in all of the normal teenage activities. I wasn’t an outcast, but I wasn’t interested. I wanted to wear Doc Martins and feel obtuse.
Fast forward (gulp) twenty years. My oldest has started her public school career with her Scooby Doo lunchbox in one hand and her Tinkerbell backpack in the other. Kindergarten. So cute, so full of wonder, so full of…of…
Joining.
Ugh.
This joining primarily takes the form of the school’s PTO. As a “kinder parent” (this is apparently my new status classification), I had three pages of volunteer opportunities to choose from as a way of solidifying my standing as an “involved mother”. I say “mother” because at my first PTO meeting there was exactly one father present. He was the chair of the audit committee.
My husband thought I was a nutjob for showing up for the first PTO (parent teacher organization) meeting. I wasn’t feeling well. I was tired. And, he and I had nearly killed a bottle of wine during dinner before the 7 PM meeting. Nonetheless, I dragged myself there. To be fair, I knew what I was getting myself into. I had experienced a hearty warm up the previous year at Ava’s preschool. Her preschool offered a very active Parent Committee available for all my volunteering pleasure.
As a joining-adverse teenager and young adult (I never rushed a sorority, either), I developed a healthy skepticism for joiners. As an adult, this manifested itself as a mistrust of overly energetic, eager-to-please, unnervingly nice, accommodating women. Don’t get me wrong, they are all perfectly nice. Too nice. I mean, I get it. But, it makes me crazy and more than just a little uncomfortable. The meetings seem to take just a little too long…too much conversation about things that (during my workday) would take about a third as much time to resolve. I get the feeling that everyone is working really hard not to offend anyone. Let’s face it, I don’t fit in. I don’t get them. I don’t know why they feel the need to one-up each other about who can pick up the most corn stalks for the Harvest Festival decoration. Where do you even buy corn stalks? The country?
Despite all of this I joined.
Here’s why…
First, I think it is important to establish early on who make up the “Queen Bees” of the parent volunteer corps. These Bees have excellent information and lots of opinions. They don’t usually have a sense of humor and would be hard pressed to use the word “fuck”. Nonetheless, they are a force to be reckoned with—and can be really helpful to new parents trying to find their way. Truthfully, they can be a bit scary. I am still undecided as to whether or not this intimidation factor is intentional. Usually, they have been around for a while, so they won’t likely join the “kinder parent” social circles. But, who knows…a new friendship might develop. Not likely. But possible.
The second reason I joined was because I think it’s important to figure out early in the year my personal pain threshold for volunteering. Boundaries are important, even when it comes to your kid’s school. So, getting involved early gives you more choice (i.e. “I will help with the Harvest Festival in the fall because the spring auction conflicts with an important work meeting”). This is a necessity for a busy working mom who has to squeeze this volunteering in around conference calls, business trips, and staff meetings (i.e. me). Waiting too long, limits your choices, and may lead to latent guilt about not helping out sooner.
Finally, I joined for my daughter. I wanted her to see that joining can help make the experience of school more fun. You are more invested. You feel more connected. You probably care a little more.
I don’t want her to be the only kid on the kindergarten playground reading Jack Kerouac by herself in a corner.
