This story was contributed by Meredith Bodgas.
My working parents participated in a single-digit number of school activities during work hours throughout my childhood. I truly don’t hold that against them. But I always thought it was so special and exciting when a classmate’s parent walked through the door to tell us about a holiday their family celebrated or to join us on a field trip.
The vast majority of these class parents were stay-at-home moms, but I’m an editorial director at a financial services company. In fact, my full-time job is very full–with covering for people on leave and vacation. Plus, I have a sixth grader with ADHD and a second grader with autism, both of whom demand more from me than my friends’ typical kids. And still, when the opportunity to sign up to be class parent hits my inbox, I drop what I’m doing to express my enthusiastic interest.
My initial ulterior motive
Besides remembering my own wish for my mom to be the one handing out ice pops on Field Day or helping us pick out books at the book fair, I was prompted to raise my hand when my little guy entered first grade because of a lackluster kindergarten class parent. She unfortunately didn’t check her work when compiling the class contact list. Phone numbers had 9 digits instead of 10. Parents’ names were misaligned with their contact details by one row. And despite my pleading messages to her to correct the list, my own contact info was completely left off. We missed birthday party invites, as well as the flurry of over-the-summer messages about everyone’s first-grade teacher assignments. In an effort to avoid a repeat of the situation the next school year, I signed up the moment our first-grade teacher sought class parent volunteers.
The happy side effects I didn’t see coming
Maybe it was a byproduct of COVID, or maybe kindergartners were too young to leave the school grounds, but first grade was the first time my son’s class was scheduled to take a field trip. He thrives on routine, so special school days like those trips and also class parties can send him spiraling. But class parents are invited to help those days.
When they came around this past school year, I used precious PTO days to try to keep my son regulated amid out-of-the-ordinary schedules. My son did (relatively) marvelously on these days. I’ll never know whether my familiar presence and constant reminders about what was happening next were actually the reasons for my son’s good behavior, but I’d prefer not to find out how he does without me. At least not yet.
Another bonus: I spent nearly the entire bus ride to a children’s play chatting with my son’s teacher. I learned about her family and talked in-depth about her faith in my son’s future, despite his behavioral challenges now. That’s a lot more than we could cover at the parent-teacher conference months earlier. It was also so reassuring to see kids happily sitting next to my son and laughing at his jokes. Though class parents give up a lot of their free time, it’s a fair trade-off for getting glimpses of our children with their classmates and extra time with the teacher.
How I keep class parenting manageable
Class parenting can be a lot, but dividing and conquering can help. For instance, my co-class parent last year took on craft ordering for the Halloween party and other tasks, while I promised to handle the end-of-year school party. I made that task easier for myself: At the beginning of the school year, I found out which allergen-free ice pops they needed, waited for them to go on sale, ordered them months in advance one lazy winter weekend, and was ready to go when the day to bring them in came in June, a chaotic time at my job. I also delegated end-of-year gift pickup and delivery to my husband because, after all, it’s his kid’s class too.
I’ve become more realistic about what I can handle. It was too much to be class parent and on the back-to-school picnic and Parent Social committees, so I’m stepping back from those two roles as my son enters second grade. I raised my hand to help out at my older son’s middle school last year, but he was so embarrassed by my presence, that’s another easy activity to cut out to free me up. They were fun, but ultimately, they didn’t directly help my needy sons.
I’ll also solicit the boys’ help with the most time-consuming class parent task of all: assembling the class list. Yes, I’ll probably still be the one stalking fellow parents on social media to get their OK to share their contact info, but my children can help input parents’ details into a spreadsheet and alphabetize all the names. I’ll, of course, check that it’s all correct. While I’m glad one parent’s mistake initially got me involved, I don’t want to be the reason some other family misses out.
I’m keenly aware the opportunity to be class parent is fleeting, with my older son already in middle school, rolling his eyes at me if I dare even to show up on his walk home. I won’t be spending an eternity fact-checking class list details or doling out brown-bag lunches on field trips. So I’ll remain willing to report for duty because, in a few short years, chances to be with my child’s class will disappear.
More back-to-school inspiration from The North County Moms
Back to School Checklist: 8 Things To Do To Ease the Transition
