What Happens When Your School Can’t Find Parent Officers and Team Members
I’m staring at my laptop screen at 9:17 PM, half a cold grilled cheese on the counter next to me, and the third draft of my email to our third grade parent list is still open. The subject line reads “Still Looking: Next Year PTA Officers & Fall Fest Team Members Needed!” I’ve already softened the wording twice – first it was “URGENT: We Need You”, then “We Could Use a Hand”, now this. I don’t want to sound desperate, but we are kind of desperate. After three emails and two in-person announcements after back to school night, we have one sign up for treasurer, that’s it.
Our current PTA president is stepping down this year, after three years of running everything from fundraisers to teacher appreciation week. Her youngest is moving on to middle school, and she says she’s ready to not spend her Sunday nights updating spreadsheets. I don’t blame her. Two years ago, I was the one deleting every call for volunteers without reading it. I worked full time remote, my husband traveled every other week for work, I could barely remember to pack my kid’s extra sneakers for PE, let alone make a 2 PM meeting on a Tuesday. I thought PTA officers were just people who had way more free time and energy than I did, and I was fine with that.
I reached out to 12 parents individually last week. Half said they couldn’t commit to anything extra right now – one mom picked up extra nursing shifts to cover for a coworker on maternity leave, a dad is caring for his elderly mom who just moved in, two couples are expecting new babies. One dad replied all to the group email saying he wasn’t signing up because the district should be paying for all these things, not asking parents to do free work. I get that too. It’s unfair that public schools rely on parent fundraising for basic supplies now, but that doesn’t make the need go away. This year’s Fall Fest pays for the new sensory tables in the special education classroom, all the classroom art supplies the district cut from the budget last year, and the bus fee for every 3rd and 4th grade field trip, so no kid has to sit out because their family can’t pay. If we cancel Fall Fest, all that goes away.
Last month I chaperoned our field trip to the local nature center, and I was talking to our school counselor, Ms. Henderson, about how hard it is to find people to join these teams. She said she’s seen a clear shift in how kids talk about school over the last five years, as fewer parents have been able to participate. More kids say they don’t feel connected to the school, because the events and extra opportunities that let them participate outside of math and reading tests are disappearing. It’s not just about the candy and the bounce houses, either. When parents show up as part of a team or as an officer, kids see that their school is a place that matters enough for the people they love to spend time on. That sticks with them way more than any lesson on citizenship they get in class. Kids who feel connected to their school community also show up more consistently for class, and struggle less with social anxiety starting out the year, Ms. Henderson told me. That’s a real impact no one talks about when we’re sending out these sign up emails.
That conversation got me thinking, and we changed how we’re asking for people this year. Instead of listing a full role with a two-year commitment and 15 bullet points of duties, we split every role into small, 1-3 hour a week chunks. Instead of one president, we’re looking for two co-officers who split the monthly meetings and four big yearly emails. Instead of one Fall Fest coordinator, we’re looking for four team members, each with one specific job: one to manage the bake sale sign up, one to check in volunteers the morning of, one to coordinate the bounce house delivery, one to clean up after. We moved all monthly meetings to 8 PM on Zoom, after kids are in bed, instead of 2 PM on a school day when most working parents can’t make it. We also tell people up front that if you sign up and you have to step back after a month because life gets crazy, that’s fine – no guilt, no questions asked.
Within three days of sending out the new, adjusted email, we got two new sign ups. A part-time graphic designer who sets her own hours signed on as co-president, said she never would have signed up for a solo full role, but splitting it sounded doable. A dad who works construction gets off early on Fridays every other week signed up to handle bounce house delivery for Fall Fest. We still need two more people: a second co-president, and someone to organize the cake walk sign up. It’s not fixed yet.
Last night my son came home and asked if we were going to have Fall Fest this year, because he wants to enter the pumpkin contest with his best friend. I told him we’re still looking for a couple more people to help, so we’ll see. He frowned and thought for a minute, then said “Well, I can help pass out cake walk tickets, if that helps. I’m good at handing out stuff.” I laughed and told him that’s okay, we’re looking for grown ups first, but I’d keep his offer in mind.
It made me think: we’re all so used to thinking that being on a team or an officer means you have to do everything, that you have to have all the time and all the experience. But most of the time, it just adds up to a whole lot of people doing a tiny little bit of something. We’re still looking, and that’s okay. It’s a slow process, but we’re getting closer.
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