When I was a child, at just 8 years old, I was eager to join a soccer team, and my mother quickly enrolled me at our local recreation center. With a mere five dollars and a signed permission slip, I proudly donned my standard red T-shirt as a member of the “Red Hots.” The referees were volunteers, we brought our own water, and we played on a nearby school field. There was no obligatory “work bond” for parents, nor were we pressured to sell anything to enjoy participating in organized sports. At the end of the season, I even got to keep my T-shirt.
My mother didn’t have to pester our friends and neighbors to purchase overpriced, unnecessary items. Occasionally, a team might raise funds for a trip to the state championships, but that typically involved selling candy bars from a cardboard box. Honestly, the only fundraising I remember from my childhood was collecting coins in a UNICEF box while trick-or-treating. We gathered nickels and dimes to help children in need around the globe. Parents weren’t expected to deplete their finances regularly to fund extravagant field trips and parties reminiscent of a Disney production. Life was simpler and much less expensive back then.
Over the years, I have found myself selling coupon books, tacky wrapping paper, and candles. My children have hawked cookie dough and pizza kits to unsuspecting relatives. We’ve sold candies, pies, flowers—you name it, we’ve had to sell to contribute to the financial needs of our schools and activities. I’ve helped wash cars, gathered clothing, dined at fast-food restaurants, and participated in silent auctions. We have extracted a small fortune from our friends and family “for the kids!” It’s a wonder my relatives even pick up the phone considering how often I start calls with, “So, your niece is selling [insert overpriced item that no rational person would buy at a discount store].”
Recently, we were asked to sell candles to fund a school trip. The trip cost $75, and the kids received a mere 10% of the sales proceeds to cover their expenses. The candles retail for $25 each, and while they come from a well-known brand, they were significantly smaller than what you’d find in stores. In essence, I was being asked to sell $750 worth of candles to fund a trip to a waterpark that involves a bus with a bathroom? That’s 30 candles, people. Are you kidding me? I don’t even know 30 people, let alone anyone in such dire need of candles that they would buy enough to last a decade.
I understand the necessity of fundraising; as a former PTA president, I am aware of the costs associated with school assemblies and events. But why does everything have to be so extravagant? Nowadays, field trips resemble mini-vacations complete with luxury buses and Wi-Fi. Class parties turn into major productions featuring four-course meals and crafts that rival those of professional event planners. Everything has escalated in size and expense, which is incredibly frustrating for families on a budget.
I recognize fundraising aims to assist families who struggle financially. I understand the importance of ensuring no child feels excluded from activities. However, perhaps we should strive to find more affordable, inclusive options that won’t strain our wallets. The class parties I recall involved simple games like Simon Says, a small cookie, and some juice. There’s a reason my mother wasn’t peddling chocolates, pies, and hoagies, folks.
And please spare me the “It’s for the kids!” argument. Most of these extravagant events are orchestrated by parents in our schools and sports organizations. No one is compelled to rent bounce houses and hire pricey DJs with glowing light shows. Kids would likely be just as satisfied with a tray of brownies and an iPod filled with music, but it’s often the parents with too much time on their hands who promote this “bigger is better” mentality.
Before you react negatively to my critique of your elaborate carnival extravaganza, know that I, too, have contributed to the fundraising frenzy. I’ve solicited donations for school technology, coaxed businesses to support events, and hosted class parties laden with sugar.
So, when will this end? We need to return to basics. Less is more, and it seems parents today have forgotten that children require little to feel fulfilled. We have PTAs with budgets in the tens of thousands and sports organizations with more funds than some families earn in a year. It’s absurd. What are we really trying to accomplish?
I, for one, am stepping back from the fundraising carousel, and I encourage other parents to express their concerns to their PTAs. This doesn’t mean I won’t support my children’s activities; I’ll simply inquire about the actual costs of events and skip selling stale pies in bizarre flavors that wind up in the trash.
But I still have a soft spot for those chocolate-covered pretzels in pretty tins. If anyone is selling those, please feel free to stop by!
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In summary, the fundraising landscape has changed dramatically, and it’s time for parents to rethink extravagant expectations and focus on more practical, budget-friendly solutions for our children’s activities.
Keyphrase: fundraising fatigue
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