Social services in our world often exist in a world of non-profit, a world where begging is the only way to stay afloat, where the kindness of strangers is a necessity for the survival of the most needy in our country. This was true before the economic emergency; it is in itself an emergency now.
But how exactly do we define “social services”? I have been thinking about that, watching as agencies that provide services to people with disabilities scramble for funding to replace that which the state government has had to cut, or that the corporation that just laid off employees can no longer justify to its stockholders. Now, the state agencies themselves cannot solicit for private funding. In principle, they should be funded appropriately by the state budget, but of course there is never enough. Some do without, and some simply stay home. Of course, in one area, going without and staying home are not viable options, or even legal ones. This area is that of schools.
I look at schools, and wonder, what is necessary? What is effective? And then, I go to the PTO and wonder the same things as we discuss the school picture day and the PTO’s gifts to classrooms and the bingo for books, and I wonder, really wonder, why are our schools structured around this paradigm? Why is the PTO a private fund raising organization and not a grassroots community organization demanding change?
Last night was the annual wrapping paper pickup at my girls’ school. Every year, the biggest fund raiser comes just in time for holidays. And it really is all for a good cause: the PTO raises money for field trips, class parties, playground equipment, school supplies, teacher salaries…
No, I am getting carried away. The PTO does not pay the salaries of our educators… not yet. Still, teachers often do dispense with their own wages to pay for supplies in their classes. Hence, the wish lists that are sometimes attached to homework papers: “Our classroom needs glue sticks, kleenex, erasers…” This begging for necessities, I declare, is shameful. It creates a climate for favoritism, for–dare I say it–low-level corruption. No, I did not raise money for the PTO last year, and no, my daughter did not get to move to a classroom with her best friends. Coincidence? I think not.
And this year, I return to my philosophical opposition to the sale of wrapping paper for religious holidays. I did not participate in the fall fund raiser. No, flipped through the glossy pages of papers, $20, $8, and chocolates (even more expensive). I thought about knocking on the doors of Section 8 housing near my house. It is shameful, I believe, to ask for people to buy wrapping paper when they cannot even afford the gifts that would need wrapping. But desire would eek into some neighbors’ minds: the lure of the shimmering samples offered in the back of the catalog, the captivating descriptions of luscious chocolate tempting tempting. All right, then. Maybe just one box. My little girl looks up. “Please. It’s for the schools.” Guilt seals the deal: it is for a good cause. How can anyone say no?
No.
I say no to the continued dependence of our schools on this elitist structure. I say elitist, because children are rewarded with prizes, like I-Pods, for the greatest number of orders. While families do not circulate those order forms expecting a prize, the message remains. I say no, because even that family teetering on the brink of TANF eligibility, that family that buys something is probably not going to contribute to an order form that wins an I-Pod. No, the winner will be the child whose parents take the form to the high-paying job with highly-paid coworkers. When children are told not to go door-to-door as we did in the way, far-off days of my youth, what other options are there but relatives, friends, and your dad’s junior partner? And really, that child whose parents can participate in these shams–yes, shams!… that child may already have an I-Pod. Do we really need another way to reward the wealthy? Does this beneficent effort assuage the guilt of an excessive lifestyle?
So much energy goes into these wrapping paper and candle extravaganzas that I can only imagine the changes we may accomplish if the immense effort of collecting money for the “good cause” were redirected. No, what if we simply stopped worrying about dollars ourselves, but got a little noisier ourselves, as parents? What if we were to have the audacity to reexamine our entire educational system and to advocate with legislators around the role of schools, around evidence-based learning practices, around ethics, around the needs of children and families, and around the questions of equality of education and quality of education?
This is not to say that some of the advocacy work does not already happen. There are indeed elected officials who serve on a school committee, and townwide PTOs whose efforts go beyond funding field trips. But what if we in the school-based PTO dropped the wrapping paper jargon, and instead moved our real concerns into the forefront?
I do not see this sort of change in the immediate future. For one thing, I do believe that the real concerns often are wrapped up in wrapping paper. In a suburban comfort zone, the good deeds we do in the form of cookie dough sales and dinner auctions are social habits that have too much history and happiness to dispense with them for the mistrusted realm of community action. And indeed, maybe these fund raising activities should not disappear entirely. A bake sale and a car wash and movie night at school are all fun things for a community, a way to bring families together as well as to make a few dollars for something special. But we do need to step back and think about the excess that the enormous money-making fund drives have prompted on a personal level as well as on the school’s dependence upon these funds. If a school is poised to lose a music program without the aggressive salesmanship of parents who have time and money to put into it, then we are starting from a place that is fundamentally wrong.
Parents who have a child with a disability have some sense of this frustration: having to fight for an free, appropriate public education, while at the same time defining what that education should be. Who’s talking wrapping paper?! Who has the time? In the world of special education, time is scarce and precious. Parents fight for their children’s lives. But really, is it–should it–be any different for any child?
The time has come when we should examine the idea of a free and appropriate education for all children, not just for those in special education. What is appropriate in our classrooms, in our children’s education? How do we make it better? And what are schools doing that goes beyond their role? If children have needs beyond a the role of schools, who should fill this need? Is it a healthcare issue? Is it a life issue? What should be funded by our government, and what should be the responsibility of individuals? Can schools serve broader educational roles for a whole community, and not just for the children and families who attend the regular school day?
I rant. I rave. I feel a little crazy in the world of suburban moms who are just trying to get their kids through school and help the teachers out a little. These are good people most of the time, living in a crazy world. I suppose there is an admitted resentment that I have in the back of my mind as I write these thoughts, all the while remembering that the PTO has its own culture of conformity, of white, middle- to upper-class social norms, married parents, 2.5 typically developing children. Though it is not always an unkind world to those who stand outside of it, it is not always an inclusive world, either.
But one thing sticks in my brain as I ponder these revolutionary thoughts. I wonder, do the families who fit into the PTO demographics really want all that wrapping paper?
