Cooperative Preschool Parent Hazing

So with my job change came the challenge of finding a new preschool for Parker at the drop of a hat. I had heard good things through the grapevine about a neighborhood cooperative preschool near our house. It is a nature/science based school, is very "green," and has a fun playground, and was close to home, so it sounded like it would be a good fit for P-man. Cooperative preschools are run and governed by their parent base, which sounds very warm/fuzzy/and holistic. Our experience as parents has been that it also means elitist/political/and heirchical. On the positive, Parker likes his teacher, they do fun and creative activities, and for the most part, he has enjoyed his student experience there.

On the flip side, Chris and I are finding that because we are both working parents, don't have lots of money, and because Parker turns his nose up at their hummus and edemame parent-provided snacks, we're getting the nose in the air treatment regularly. Chris has been fulfilling the parent-teaching component of the contract because he doesn't work days, while I will be doing committee work because of my more traditional work schedule. I had my first "work day" this weekend as an Art Auction Volunteer. I had kind of imagined setting up do-dads, serving wine, and taking payments. Oh, how I was mistaken...

I arrived at the auction, which was held at a fellowship facility down the road, and walked through the door not really knowing who I was looking for or what I was doing. A few people ignored my entrance and look of confusion, while a short, attractive woman with runner's calves walked up and said snappily: "Oh. You're Allision. Go over there and figure out how to attach that picture tree to the wall." I said, "Actually, I'm Laura, but I can see what I can do." Ms. Bossy Runner replied "Go get your nametag on that table. And, Allison, when you're done with that go set up the food and drink table." A few other yuppie mothers passed by without hello, or recognition, and I'm thinking "well this is going to go just splendidly."

So after figuring out how to attach a 9 foot, 10 pound tree to a ladder so it could stand free in the lobby, and watching as the yuppy dad I was working with took credit for the idea and received praise from Ms. Bossy Runner, I was told to go downstairs to my "station" for the night- "the fishing pond." I went around three corners and down two flights of stairs, and was told that I was in charge of supervising the "children's room" for the evening. On one table there was a giant container of rainbow colored biodegradable packing popcorn and a bucket of water. On the next table there were acorns, glue, contruction paper leaves. On the last table there were popsicle sticks, hay, pipecleaners, construction paper, and sharpies....yes SHARPIES, for the 2, 3, and 4 year olds to use while constructing their scarecrow crafts.

In addition to supervising the children's room activities, I was to stand behind a giant t.v. box that has been decorated with fish, and attach prizes to fishing lines thrown by the toddlers, while collecting $1.00 from each of these toddlers for each line cast. Joining me in the "childrens room" was one dad, who looked as shell shocked as I felt. "Are you new, too? This is pretty intense." I said "yeah, I'm new too. What kind of cult did we join here?" He replied "I don't know- my wife set it all up. I think we're getting hazed." About 20 minutes later, Ms. Bossy Runner popped her head through the starwell entrance and said "Allison- the kids are coming." I was thinking, "well, at least we won't have to be upstairs with the stepford wives all night." Oh, how I wish I had run out the door at that moment.

Just about then, approximately 60 small children with a few parents in tow started running, climbing, and pushing down the stairs. "I want to fish! I want to fish!!" So they fished, and they glued, and they made a swamp of dissolved rainbow packing popcorn. They sharpied the tables, and eachother, they cried, they screamed, the yuppy parents got drunker, stood around talking to eachother about their home made organic yogurt concoctions while their "highly advanced and independent" children covered themselves in various colors and varieties of goo, tried to eat acorns, hit eachother and me with the clips at the end of the fishing lines, and cried some more. The president of the preschool, whom I had never met, came down the stairs and said "who gave these kids Sharpies?" I said "I have no idea." She (at least) said "I apologize- I'm sorry that's the first thing I ever said to you. Now lets get the Sharpies collected." So I collected Sharpies, made more kids cry because they wanted their Sharpies, spent 45 minutes using my fingernails trying to scrape dried rainbow packing goo from the tables, so that more goo could be made, while more and more parents stood leisurely around ignoring their children and sipping on wine and micro-brews.

When my four-hour shift was over ten hours later, I walked up stairs to go get my purse, and Ms. Bossy Runner zipped over to me. "Allison. Go over to that table. There are three people who haven't collected their auction items. Give them their slips when they come." So I stood by the table, watching people tote around their $500 framed coffee filter collages and $1200 toddler-painted toy chests they had purchased that night, and waited. No one came, and finally the president came back up to me and said "Are you done downstairs? Did the mess get cleand up?" I said "Well, I did clean as much I could. The Sharpie isn't going to come off those tables. My shift was over at six, but Ms. Bossy Runner told me I needed to stand at this table." She told me to go ahead and leave, but to tell Ms. Bossy Runner on my way out. I walked up to her and said "I have to leave now. I need to pick up my son from the babysitter." "Oh." She says. "So no one's at the table." "No." "(impatient exhale)Fine. Thanks."

So that was my first volunteer experience at Parker's unnamed (Un)Cooperative Preschool. I think we might explore some other options for next year. :)