As the school year winds down, I find myself counting down the days just like my sixth grader. It’s a widely acknowledged fact that parents crave summer break just as much—if not more—than their children do. I definitely need a breather.
With two kids—my oldest now 11 and finishing elementary school, and my youngest at 9—I’ve been engaged in volunteering at their school events since my eldest started kindergarten in 2008. No one has ever forced me into volunteering; I do it because I genuinely want to be part of my kids’ educational journeys. Working from home, I often grapple with feelings of inadequacy when I’m not busy. To combat this, I’ve thrown myself into volunteer roles, recognizing that I’m fortunate to have the time to contribute.
But truth be told, sometimes volunteering feels like a burden.
The first school my kids attended was a small institution in the Bay Area that thrived on parental involvement. Parents were integral in classrooms, fundraising, and overseeing extracurricular activities. The collaboration between teachers, administration, and parents created a vibrant atmosphere, making it hard not to join in on the excitement. Many parents, even those with jobs, managed to dedicate at least a day a month to school activities. I know this because, during my tenure as the PTA historian, I meticulously tracked volunteer hours.
Over the years, I juggled various volunteer roles. As a first-time kindergarten parent, I eagerly signed up for anything that piqued my interest. I attended PTA meetings regularly until I was invited to join the board—first as historian, then as secretary. I was a room parent, helped create the yearbook, and spent time in classrooms during language arts and physical education. I participated in the Walking Club and even coached a Girls on the Run group, despite not having daughters. I was part of the elusive Wellness Committee, though I still can’t say what it actually accomplished.
By the time my oldest finished fourth grade, I was feeling overwhelmed by my commitment to volunteering, especially with my part-time job as a language arts instructor and writing tutor. While I enjoyed the work and the friendships I forged, I recognized that I couldn’t do it all—nor did I want to. I realized that the activities I loved the most—PTA, Walking Club, and language arts—were far more fulfilling than being a room parent or managing stations in physical education, which often felt like herding cats. I resolved to focus on just the things that truly brought me joy.
Then we moved, and I found myself in a new school with similar volunteer demands but a different culture. In an attempt to integrate into the community, I over-committed myself yet again, leading me to robotics.
Robotics was by far the most challenging volunteer role I’ve taken on in seven years. With no engineering background and minimal STEM education, I was roped into coaching a First Lego League robotics team. I didn’t want to do it, but my participation allowed five more kids to join, including my son, who needed an encouraging activity after a rough Little League season.
Despite assurances from a more experienced coach that it would be manageable, my co-coach and I were left to figure it out as we went along. The kids often grasped the programming concepts better than we did, but the learning curve was steep. Our late evening meetings, after full days of school and soccer, turned into chaotic sessions where tired kids struggled to focus on programming while surrounded by enticing Legos.
The positive? The kids enjoyed robotics, and my co-coach became a friend with whom I shared parenting philosophies. The downside? Everything else about the experience was taxing.
While the kids had a blast, I couldn’t shake the feeling that they would have benefitted more from a coach with actual expertise. My experience with the new school’s PTA was equally disheartening, with a lack of the supportive environment I had previously enjoyed.
This year, I returned to robotics, but only to allow more kids to participate. I’ve stepped back from classroom involvement and the PTA, finding fulfillment in coaching track—where I can leverage my two decades of running experience to offer valuable advice. It feels rewarding in a way that my previous roles did not.
Volunteering left me feeling like a failure during the robotics season. I believed the kids could have achieved so much more under a more qualified coach. When I witnessed other parents being shamed for proposing new fundraisers to the PTA, it infuriated me. No volunteer should feel like they’ve let anyone down or be pressured to participate in activities that suck the joy out of volunteering.
Our public schools desperately need engaged parents. With significant budget cuts, many rely on parents and community members to provide classroom support, maintain extracurricular activities, and fund essential resources like technology and art supplies. It’s tempting for parents to dive headfirst into volunteering, especially when they see the benefits it brings to students. There were years when I relished every moment. However, I’ve come to a place of understanding that I don’t have to do it all.
As my children prepare to transition to new schools next year, I plan to attend a few PTA meetings and assess where I might be helpful—but I won’t automatically sign up for every opportunity. I refuse to feel guilty if my absence limits others’ participation. The adage “Do what you love, love what you do” might sound cliché, but it rings true in the context of volunteering. From now on, I’ll only engage in the activities that bring me genuine joy.
And if you happen to uncover the secrets of the Wellness Committee, please fill me in—I can be found at the track!
Summary
In this article, the author reflects on her journey through volunteering in her children’s schools, ultimately realizing the importance of focusing on what she truly enjoys rather than overcommitting to every request. With a newfound perspective, she aims to balance her involvement while still supporting her children’s education.
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