In my childhood, when I was just 8 years old, I expressed a desire to play soccer, and my mother promptly enrolled me at the local recreation center. With a mere five dollars and the completion of a permission slip, I proudly donned the uniform of the “Red Hots” and took to the field in my standard red T-shirt. The referees were enthusiastic volunteers, we brought our own water, and our games were held on a nearby school field. There were no obligatory “work bonds” for parents, nor did we have to sell overpriced products to enjoy the experience of organized sports. At the end of the season, I even got to keep my T-shirt.
My mother was not burdened with the task of persuading friends and neighbors to purchase overpriced items. Occasionally, teams would need to raise funds for a trip to state championships, but typically, the fundraising efforts consisted of selling candy bars from a simple cardboard box. The only time fundraising made an impression on me as a child was during Halloween when I carried a UNICEF box to collect donations for children in need around the world. Parents were not expected to deplete their finances for extravagant field trips or parties that resembled those at a theme park. Life was simpler and significantly more affordable back then.
Over the years, I’ve found myself selling coupon books, kits of gaudy wrapping paper, and scented candles. My children have hawked cookie dough and pizza kits to unsuspecting relatives. Whether it’s candies, pies, or flowers, we’ve sold it all to contribute to the financial needs of our schools and activities. I’ve participated in car washes, gathered clothing donations, dined at fast-food restaurants, and attended silent auctions. We’ve drained our friends and family’s wallets “for the kids!” so much that it’s surprising anyone still answers my calls when I start with, “So, your niece is selling insert overpriced item that no rational person would buy.”
Recently, I was asked to sell candles to fund a school trip. The cost of the trip was $75, and the kids would receive a mere 10% from the sales. Each candle retailed for $25 and, though they were from a well-known brand, they were smaller than what one could find in stores. Essentially, I was being asked to sell $750 worth of candles to fund a trip to a waterpark accessed by a bus with a bathroom. That translates to 30 candles. Really? I don’t even know that many people, let alone anyone whose home is in such dire need of candles that they would require enough to last a decade.
I understand the financial burdens faced by PTAs and how costly school assemblies and events can be. However, does everything have to be so extravagant? Nowadays, field trips resemble mini vacations with luxurious buses and onboard Wi-Fi. Class parties are elaborate affairs, featuring multi-course meals and crafts that would impress even Martha Stewart. Everything feels inflated and more expensive, and this is a challenge for families on a tight budget.
While I recognize the importance of fundraising in supporting families who may not have extra funds, perhaps we should shift our focus to more affordable and inclusive activities. My fondest memories of class parties involved simple games like Simon Says, a cookie, and some juice. There’s a reason my mother didn’t sell chocolates, pies, and hoagies.
And please spare me the “It’s for the kids!” rhetoric. Much of this extravagance is orchestrated by parents within the school or sports organizations. No one is compelling us to hire bounce houses or DJs with extravagant light shows. Children would be just as content with a tray of brownies and a playlist on an iPod, but it’s often the parents with too much time on their hands who perpetuate this “bigger is better” mindset.
Before you react defensively about your carnival extravaganza (which you insist is for the kids!), let me clarify that I share in the guilt of contributing to this fundraising frenzy. I’ve solicited donations for school iPads, persuaded local businesses to contribute items for fundraisers, and organized class parties with excessive sweets.
So, when will it all come to an end? We need to return to simpler times. Less truly is more, and it seems that today’s parents have forgotten that children require very little to be happy. We now have PTAs operating with budgets in the tens of thousands and sports associations with funds surpassing what many families earn in a year. It’s ludicrous, and what exactly are we trying to prove?
I’ve decided to step back from the fundraising frenzy and hope that more parents will express their concerns to their PTAs. This doesn’t mean I won’t support my children’s activities; it simply means I will inquire about the actual costs involved, bypassing the stale pies with odd flavors that inevitably end up in the trash. But if someone is selling those delightful chocolate-covered pretzels in a fancy tin, I’m all in.
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Summary
The author reflects on how fundraising for children’s activities has become increasingly extravagant and burdensome for families. While acknowledging the necessity of fundraising, she advocates for simpler, more affordable options that still provide enjoyment for kids. The call for a return to basics resonates, as she expresses a desire to step back from excessive fundraising efforts while still supporting her children’s endeavors.
Keyphrase: fundraising exhaustion
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