In fifth grade, I met Ms. Green, my mother’s fiery Southern friend who also happened to be the president of our elementary school’s PTA. Watching her command the room with her gavel and Southern charm, I knew I wanted to emulate her. I longed for the authority and respect that came with a title, believing she was the most powerful woman around. But let’s be honest; I just wanted that gavel.
Fast forward thirty years and two kids later, my moment had finally arrived. I recall feeling pure joy as I headed to my first PTA meeting. We were set to embark on exciting projects for the kids! Planning carnivals, crafting, and bringing cupcakes to the classroom were all on the agenda. I was not only eager to see my children in their school environment but also thrilled about connecting with other parents who shared my passion for construction paper and creative bulletin boards. I arrived at that meeting with a huge smile, practically smelling the tater tots in the air. I was officially on my way to becoming a school volunteer!
However, my excitement quickly waned during that initial meeting. The women present were serious and no-nonsense; it was clear they took their roles to heart. The more experienced volunteers seemed weary and somewhat burned out, and one even had a rather unpleasant demeanor. Their discussions about budgets and planning made me question what I had signed up for, yet my desire to contribute pushed me forward. I was determined to embrace my role as a volunteer, glitter glue and all.
And I did! For nearly eight years, I chaired committees, organized fundraisers, crafted, and planned parties. I was a room parent, field trip chaperone, and lunchroom volunteer. Alongside a dedicated group of parents, I made myself available for anything our little school needed (ask me about the time I brought our power washer to spruce up the sidewalks). While I mostly enjoyed the experience for the chance to be with my kids and connect with their teachers, as the years passed, my enthusiasm gradually morphed into resentment and burnout. I found myself turning into the cranky woman I had encountered at my first meeting.
In my eighth year, I finally became president of the PTA. That coveted gavel was mine at last, but presiding over my first meeting revealed that it wasn’t everything I had imagined. Leading a group of volunteers tested my patience and made me reevaluate my priorities. I witnessed the darker side of volunteering—power-hungry parents, gossip, and the complexities of nonprofit management were just the beginning. Real issues surrounding liability, insurance, and financial dealings became my responsibility.
As president, I discovered who bounced fundraiser checks and who frequently canceled at the last minute. I had to mediate disputes, tackle financial mishaps, and calm tensions between parents and administrators. The late-night calls, constant emails, and even confrontations at the grocery store began to wear me down emotionally. My marriage suffered as I struggled to separate my home life from my volunteer obligations, and my children often saw me frustrated with yet another school event.
My friendships changed, my health began to decline, and I found myself utterly miserable. The most disheartening part? I wasn’t earning a single cent for all the time and effort I poured into that role. One particularly challenging day, after facing a harsh personal attack, I sat at my kitchen table and cried for an hour, overwhelmed by stress. Did Ms. Green feel this way too when I watched her thrive with that gavel?
At that moment, I realized volunteering had transformed into a burdensome job I despised. It was time to step back.
Since that day, I’ve retired my volunteering hat. The first few weeks were tough; resisting the urge to sign up for events or decline a field trip felt unnatural. However, I recognized that I had become overly immersed in my children’s world, neglecting my own interests. Some might label me selfish, but for the first time in eight years, I put myself first. A few months later, when my husband remarked, “I haven’t seen you this relaxed and happy in years,” I knew I had made the right decision.
Yet, if I’m being honest, I still find myself missing the satisfying crack of that gavel.
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Summary:
The author shares her journey from being an enthusiastic PTA volunteer, inspired by a powerful role model, to experiencing burnout and frustration as her responsibilities grew. After eight years of volunteering, she learns the importance of prioritizing her mental health and happiness over her obligations, ultimately stepping back from her role and finding peace in her decision.