Undercover at the PTA

Nothing makes you feel like you’re back in school like being back in school. Your child’s school, I mean. I went to a room mother’s meeting this morning at my daughter E’s elementary school, and it was like stepping back into my awkward school years, only not in a good way. Our family is new to the school this year, as my daughter finished her last year at the private school she has attended since she turned three. Now she is in the fourth grade, and it is like we are starting from scratch. I don’t know where anything is and I don’t know who anyone is, including both the staff who works there and all the moms sitting in the cafeteria that I could only find by following the color coordinated strip on the floor (orange for fourth grade). And I am not even the one in school. I can’t imagine how much worse it is for my daughter, so I concentrated instead on how it affected me.

I walked in the cafeteria which still held the stale odor of the free and reduced breakfast and took a seat near the front of the room. No one said hello to me, nor did I to anyone else. I sat there alone, fretting over the same things I did in school, only with a hopefully more mature slant. Am I overdressed? Underdressed? Why are they wearing flip flops? Can we even wear flip flops to school? We should set a better example for the children. Can anyone see my roots? I should have pulled my hair back. I need a touch up. I need some lip gloss. I’m so thirsty.

As more mothers strolled in, it became apparent to me that there were cliques here just like in high school. The thin pretty moms are seemed to know each other, and they chatted loudly in the back over the announcements of the former student council types who conducting the meeting. There were moms who looked sleep deprived and slightly disheveled and clearly had not showered for the occasion. There were the gym moms, all in their fitted tank tops and sporty little skorts. There was even one lone father who had fortified himself with a bible. I wonder if he knew what meeting he was attending or if he just saw it as another opportunity to spread HIS word.

I tried to focus on why I was there. But I don’t know why I was there. At one time, it had something to do with wanting to be involved on a more personal level so I can keep an eye on what happens in E’s classroom, which at this point seems to be a whole lot of nothing. I wanted to see what the kids in my daughter’s class are like, to help out her teacher so she can get busy with teaching. But sitting there, feeling alone with my chin acne and alcohol bloat from the long weekend, I realized that none of what that meeting detailed had anything to do with being involved in my daughter’s class at all.

In theory, we were all there to support our children and the school. The reality was more along the lines of one-up-man ship and controlling personalities. As we divided ourselves into grade levels and classes (by teacher, not socio-economics), I realized I did not fit in here much in the same way I did not fit in when I was in school. I defied classification then, and I still do. I had and still have a strong work ethic and desire to do the right thing, but a nasty lazy streak and fear of responsibility. At least I was smart enough to not head up anything.

It took a few hours for the awkward to wear off, when I could return to telling myself I was slightly fabulous and full of potential. It feels better when I’m at home making a tasty dinner or cracking a joke instead of being one more mom sitting in a cafeteria on a Tuesday morning. Feeling adequate doesn’t come easy to some, certainly not to me. Maybe those other moms are just better at faking it.