The Straw That Broke The Camel's Back!
So we're up to date. The PTA is entirely teacher-run, and the teachers have just been elected to a second term. But you know what? It's still my kid's school, I still have good relationships with the other parents I've met in PTA, and -- call me crazy -- I still have that hankerin' to do stuff. I guess I'm just a fucking glutton for punishment.
Plus, I genuinely like some of the jobs that need doing. I've volunteered my DJ services for the upcoming Family Fun Night, because I really love doing music mixes around themes, even when I despise the theme (this year it's "World of Sports," which might as well have been plucked out of a barrel labeled "Things PTA_Rebel hates most in this universe"), and I also volunteered to do an ice cream sale.
The ice cream sale came out of a chat I was having with Gramma, that went something like this: "Remember all of afterschool those ice cream sales we did last spring? Those were fun. Let's do one again this year, for old times' sake." Gramma enthusiastically agreed. I really did love doing those ice cream sales, because I love the excited chaos it creates among the kids. Ice cream bars and dollar bills are flying every which way, as fast as you can hand them out and take them in. The kids go crazy with excitement, crowd around the table, there are highs ("I've got two dollars! I can get one for me AND my friend!!!) and lows ("I don't have any money!") and dramas ("if you buy me an ice cream I'll be your best friend") and it's a kooky, hilarious scene that unfolds over a frantic fifteen minutes, and then it's all over, except for the sighs of a few lingering kids who hang around hoping they'll be randomly chosen to receive free ice cream for no reason other than their huge, hungry, saucer-like eyes.
So I went to the principal, and said, "Gramma, the PTA treasurer, and I, would like to do an afterschool ice cream sale this friday for PTA." The principal said, "Sure, no problem." Another administrator who was standing nearby cited a schedule conflict, so I asked, "Is the following Friday okay then?" Again, the principal said it would be no problem.
Today, one of my suspicions about Interrupting Cow was confirmed. I always thought that she would find fault with me even if I were to do nothing but hand her a box full of money, and that is exactly what happened today. I handed PTA a box full of money, and they got pissed at me.
First sign of trouble: Gramma didn't show. Assuming that she'd be along shortly and already beginning to be swarmed by a boatload of money-waving children, I began the sale.
A few minutes later, Vice Principal shows up. "Is this a PTA sale?" he asks. "Yes, and I've already cleared it with the principal," I reply.
A few minutes after that, Principal shows up. "I don't have this on my calendar!" she barks.
"But I went to you and asked your permisssion to do this, and you said it was no problem."
"I don't remember what I said, but as far as I'm concerned, if something is not on my calendar, it doesn't exist."
Great. How am I supposed to be in control of your fucking calendar?
Then, along comes Interrupting Cow. "You are not a board member, so you are not supposed to be handling money, and you are not supposed to be doing this. Are you planning to turn this money in to PTA?"
No, I was planning on secretly keeping it all, you hairy bitch. That's why I'm oh-so-discreetly doing this sale right in front of the main school office, right next to the school library where the entire administration is gathering for a meeting, because I figured no one would ever notice me here. Muhahahah, the perfect crime. At least that's what the inside voice said. Outside voice said:
"I'm planning on taking it up to the main office and dropping it off with the secretary."
I take the box full of money up to the front office. Interrupting Cow snatches it, and also demands the leftover ice creams. We exchange a few terse words, the same kind of shit that's been going on between her and I for what seems like centuries, and I walk out, never to be seen or heard from again.
This is officialy the end for me. If I can't even hand over a box full of money to the school without pissing a bunch of people off, then it's just not worth it anymore.
Sure, I would get pissed about the way things went often, as readers of this blog well know, but I always used to mitigate that feeling by telling myself, "at least I'm contributing something positive to the school. And I'm going to keep trying to do that."
But today was the last straw. I'm just fucking done with it all. Today's incident was the big wake up call, the last round up, the fat lady singing. I'm done with fighting, I'm done with volunteering, I'm done with lipsticking pigs. I'm done with this PTA for good. I've said this out of anger and frustration before, and not really meant it, but this time it doesn't feel like a reactionary pose; it just feels like a logical conclusion.
Do all volunteers wind up bitter and disillusioned in the end? I sure did.
Plus, I genuinely like some of the jobs that need doing. I've volunteered my DJ services for the upcoming Family Fun Night, because I really love doing music mixes around themes, even when I despise the theme (this year it's "World of Sports," which might as well have been plucked out of a barrel labeled "Things PTA_Rebel hates most in this universe"), and I also volunteered to do an ice cream sale.
The ice cream sale came out of a chat I was having with Gramma, that went something like this: "Remember all of afterschool those ice cream sales we did last spring? Those were fun. Let's do one again this year, for old times' sake." Gramma enthusiastically agreed. I really did love doing those ice cream sales, because I love the excited chaos it creates among the kids. Ice cream bars and dollar bills are flying every which way, as fast as you can hand them out and take them in. The kids go crazy with excitement, crowd around the table, there are highs ("I've got two dollars! I can get one for me AND my friend!!!) and lows ("I don't have any money!") and dramas ("if you buy me an ice cream I'll be your best friend") and it's a kooky, hilarious scene that unfolds over a frantic fifteen minutes, and then it's all over, except for the sighs of a few lingering kids who hang around hoping they'll be randomly chosen to receive free ice cream for no reason other than their huge, hungry, saucer-like eyes.
So I went to the principal, and said, "Gramma, the PTA treasurer, and I, would like to do an afterschool ice cream sale this friday for PTA." The principal said, "Sure, no problem." Another administrator who was standing nearby cited a schedule conflict, so I asked, "Is the following Friday okay then?" Again, the principal said it would be no problem.
Today, one of my suspicions about Interrupting Cow was confirmed. I always thought that she would find fault with me even if I were to do nothing but hand her a box full of money, and that is exactly what happened today. I handed PTA a box full of money, and they got pissed at me.
First sign of trouble: Gramma didn't show. Assuming that she'd be along shortly and already beginning to be swarmed by a boatload of money-waving children, I began the sale.
A few minutes later, Vice Principal shows up. "Is this a PTA sale?" he asks. "Yes, and I've already cleared it with the principal," I reply.
A few minutes after that, Principal shows up. "I don't have this on my calendar!" she barks.
"But I went to you and asked your permisssion to do this, and you said it was no problem."
"I don't remember what I said, but as far as I'm concerned, if something is not on my calendar, it doesn't exist."
Great. How am I supposed to be in control of your fucking calendar?
Then, along comes Interrupting Cow. "You are not a board member, so you are not supposed to be handling money, and you are not supposed to be doing this. Are you planning to turn this money in to PTA?"
No, I was planning on secretly keeping it all, you hairy bitch. That's why I'm oh-so-discreetly doing this sale right in front of the main school office, right next to the school library where the entire administration is gathering for a meeting, because I figured no one would ever notice me here. Muhahahah, the perfect crime. At least that's what the inside voice said. Outside voice said:
"I'm planning on taking it up to the main office and dropping it off with the secretary."
I take the box full of money up to the front office. Interrupting Cow snatches it, and also demands the leftover ice creams. We exchange a few terse words, the same kind of shit that's been going on between her and I for what seems like centuries, and I walk out, never to be seen or heard from again.
This is officialy the end for me. If I can't even hand over a box full of money to the school without pissing a bunch of people off, then it's just not worth it anymore.
Sure, I would get pissed about the way things went often, as readers of this blog well know, but I always used to mitigate that feeling by telling myself, "at least I'm contributing something positive to the school. And I'm going to keep trying to do that."
But today was the last straw. I'm just fucking done with it all. Today's incident was the big wake up call, the last round up, the fat lady singing. I'm done with fighting, I'm done with volunteering, I'm done with lipsticking pigs. I'm done with this PTA for good. I've said this out of anger and frustration before, and not really meant it, but this time it doesn't feel like a reactionary pose; it just feels like a logical conclusion.
Do all volunteers wind up bitter and disillusioned in the end? I sure did.