Fundraising

One of the things I don’t like about school: fundraising. The kids’ school has a silent auction and Halloween carnival coming up. I feel guilty because we receive a parish subsidy (for which we also work Bingo – stealing from the poor), so I offered to call a few businesses to ask for donations. Then I get handed a list of about 50 businesses. (I was expecting about 5.) Once I get started calling, making the pitch is pretty easy. These places are all used to being asked for donations and probably a third say yes. The most generous are the small business owners who are looking for customers. The big corporations say no, or tell you where to submit paperwork. Something to miss about a local economy. Happily, there do seem to be more small shops here than other places we’ve lived.

On the other hand, when I go to these little stores to pick up the gifts, I feel guilty if I don’t buy anything – or even plan to come back to the store: a formalwear place (don’t need sparkly cocktail gowns for Mardi Gras or pageants), a men’s store (can’t see my husby in patterned silk shirts), an upscale baby store (would like to shop here, but can’t find the 75% off rack). There probably are families at the school who go to these places, so I hope they will visit and say thank you for the donation and strengthen the community connection that doesn’t exist with the new Target that opened yesterday to great fanfare.

So now I’m getting tired of begging. And I’ve had to say no to buying the t-shirts that come around every few weeks – don’t want to spend money on something that is going to add clutter to already full drawers. (Trying to be a little Franciscan here.) I’d rather just send in money, which I’ve done. And I’ve sent in candy for the carnival, and money to help make wreaths for the carnival, and will bake goodies for the Halloween carnival bake sale and will work set up and the booths and clean up...

I know it costs a lot of money to run a school. And I know a lot of people work hard to make it a success, although most don’t have to send in stuff for four classes. But last night I was reading The Story of the Van Trapp Family Singers (who actually did go to school although they seem like home schoolers) and feeling envious of their nights at home around the fire reading aloud and singing, and their celebrations of birthdays and feast days with home made gifts. I want to say no to all this external stuff and just make a pretty, happy home. (‘course we can’t carry a tune and nobody can sit close to each other for long with poking, prodding, and pinching.)

Then I see the Room Coordinator for my 6th grader’s class at school during pick-up. She has no legs. She drives a car, makes the class wreath, works for the VA, sends out lots of email reminders, and organizes the class parties. And here I am complaining.