Broadcasting

Ever get fed up with fundraising?
Read my commentary, broadcast in June 1999.

When I was 35, I didn’t think I was too old to start having children. You could say that I smugly thought that my maturity was an advantage and I was confident I would be able to meet the demands that lay ahead. I read the parenting books and anticipated the stages of those early years. Before long, my first child was starting school. I thought I knew what was coming.

But why, oh why, hadn’t anyone warned me about FUNDRAISING? For all my education, I admit I was naïve. I thought that our taxes paid for public schooling, and, if I wanted to expand my child’s horizons, a simple registration fee would get him into the program of his choice.

Clearly, I was wrong. Everything requires fundraising and fundraising has presented me with the most physical, creative and moral challenges of parenting yet.

I have trudged through the snow in 30 below selling popcorn door-to-door with my Beaver and Wolf Cub. Not exactly what I had in mind when they signed up for "outdoor adventure."

I have stayed up till two in the morning decorating cakes like snowmen and bunny rabbits for cake walks. Of course, I’ve never made one like that for my family.

And how many times have we had this conversation?
"Mmm! Cookies!"
"Don’t touch! Those are for the bake sale!"

I’ve tried so hard to teach my boys about good nutrition, but now I’m disappointed when Stephen won’t buy a hot dog at school to support his Grade 4 class trip. And I feel guilty when we don’t have any 2-litre pop bottles to contribute to the latest bottle drive. We do make up for it, though, when it comes to those irresistible, expensive, nutritious chocolate-covered almonds.

Then there are the raffles. I admit I cheat here. But you see, we’re at a disadvantage. We don’t have any grandmas or grandpas or uncles or aunties in town to pester. The only people to sell tickets to are the parents of the kids who already have their own books to flog. So, mostly, we just take those ticket books, write in our own names, and shove the money into an envelope. As my friend, Judy, says, "I don’t even look at what the prizes are. It’s not as though I ever expect to win anything." Do you?

Pennies for each word spelled right, quarters for each minute of jumping rope, dollars for each kilometre run - I’m convinced that every community I’ve lived in is competing for a place in the Guinness Book of World Records for the longest, continuous Pledge-a-thon.

There are no signs of this letting up. The Grade 4 class trip will be followed in two years by a Grade 6 class trip and three years from now David will be in Grade 4 and on and on it goes.

I’m 45 now. The other day I saw a newborn baby girl. Ahh! My heart melted. For a split second, I thought..…but, no, I know better. I just can’t see myself for another 18 years looking for excuses for why I can’t work at Bingo!