This post is inspired by See Mom Run by Beth Feldman, a compilation of funny parenting stories by bloggers and writers, and the latest book choice for the Silicon Valley Moms Blog book club.
It was my first, real, Parent Teacher Night. Sure, D’s preschool had a Parent Meeting in the Fall where the teachers talked a little about what happens in their class. But this Parent Teacher Night was the big leagues. My baby was no longer a baby. He was a kindergartner. An opinionated, independent, backpack toting Kindergartner. And I was the mom in a new land. A private school that we only toured twice before signing up. A private school that cost more than my first year of college tuition. A private school that had way more parents driving luxury vehicles than parents like us who sacrificed to send out son there.
Darius had survived the first two weeks of school. I was still feeling like a strange man in a new world. Navigating drop off and pick up, learning the intense homework schedule. Between the afterschool clubs, the school uniform policy, and a parent handbook that was thicker than a college freshman textbook, I felt like I had more to learn than my son did.
So there I was on Parent Teacher Night. I knew this was my opportunity to finally size-up my son’s teachers. But I also knew this was the teacher’s night to size-up the parents. So I tried to dress nice, but not too nice. I squished my child-bearing hips into a chair fit for a five year old. And I waited for the teachers to tell all about their class. His teachers talked about what the kids would be learning and how to organize the homework folder. But shortly into their presentation is when the sales pitch for parent volunteers began.
The teachers had three pages worth of positions. There were chaperones for the field trips, volunteers of the class parties, emergency phone tree parents, Friday folder parents, yahoo group parents, rainy day activity parents, and afternoon snack parents. There was one spot that seemed perfect for me: Treasure Store Mom.
The kiddos earned tokens for good behavior and for answering questions correctly. At the end of every week, the kids get to go shopping in the Treasure Store. The store might be filled with junkie plastic toys of the dollar store variety, but the kids think it’s the Holy Grail of Treasures. I just had to come 30 minutes early to school on Fridays and help be a “cashier” in the store. Easy enough. Besides, everyone knows that leaving early from work on a Friday isn’t only the norm these days; it’s practically sanctioned by HR. Now I had an excuse for never attending a 4pm meeting on a Friday again. I was at the Treasure Store. I was a Parent Volunteer. I was making a difference in the lives of these kindergartners by ensuring that their plastic Treasure Store was always in tip top shape.
A week later, I got a lovely email from the teachers about my new volunteer position. The email started with “Thank you for volunteering to be our Treasure Store Manager and Room Mom.” ROOM MOM? I don’t remember signing up to be a Room Mom. I know plenty of rookie moms that have made that mistake. There was no way I was going to be Room Mom. I’m a working mom. I’m too busy to be a Room Mom. Hell, SAHMs are too busy to be a Room Mom. Room Moms are crazy! And super organized! And way too talkative! And they learn the names of all the kids in the class before their child! And they don’t go through the car drop off and pick up line, they actually get out of the car and walk their kid the extra 15 feet! I’m no Room Mom. I’m a slacker mom. I signed up for the easy job. I didn’t sign up for the hard one.
I was all ready to send an email back to the teachers, explaining there must be some mistake. But I sat there, with my fingers frozen at the keyboard. This isn't like sending back a undercooked piece of chicken at the local restaurant. And if waiters spit in food that you send back, I can only imagine what teachers do to children of parents that fail to complete their volunteer commitments. So begrudgingly I accepted my role as Room Mom. I certainly won't be the best Room Mom in the history of Room Moms. I'm not sure that I'll even be mediocre. But here we are half way through the school year, and I haven't been fired. So clearly, I can't be that bad.
Or maybe no one is stupid enough to try to take my place.
