My children had only been at their primary school for a week when I was set upon by the dreaded Parent Teacher Association (PTA).
There was enough of the eager-to-please about me to attract the attention of the all-powerful leaders. Then they discovered I was a journalist, which meant I probably had a few connections and, more importantly, worked from home (code for ‘free to do their bidding’).
Before I knew it, I was running stalls at the harvest fair, selling raffle tickets for the quiz night and donating prizes for the annual fundraiser. With no second home or internships to offer, I agreed to cook an ‘Asian banquet for 12’.
I was one of several sometimes-reluctant minions for six months – before a cake sale became my downfall.
I can cook, but I can’t bake. So I’d bought slabs of lemon drizzle cake from the supermarket, cut them into individual pieces and piped the initials of the school in bright-yellow butter icing.
Admittedly, my ‘creations’ stuck out like sore thumbs amid the extraordinary sculpted cupcakes and vast towers of red velvet.
‘Are those homemade?’ demanded the former chair of the PTA.
‘Um, no, not exactly,’ I stammered. ‘I kinda pimped up a Sainsbury’s lemon drizzle with some…’
‘We do encourage homemade,’ she interrupted. ‘It’s better for the children. You’ll have to put yours over there at the far end and be sure to label it,’ she paused for deadly emphasis, ‘shop-bought’.
There was enough of the eager-to-please about me to attract the attention of the all-powerful leaders of the PTA, writes Susannah Jowitt
This was your everyday PTA one-upmanship, the sort of pettiness that the Motherland and Amandaland TV shows have highlighted so well.
But there are occasions when low-level criticism spills over into outright character assassination – as demon–strated this week by former friend of the Princess of Wales, Emma Sayle.
Despite being the chair of the PTA at her children’s Church of England primary school for the past five years, Emma says she is often subject to ‘proper bullying’ by other parents – on account of her job.
She runs a highly successful multi-million-pound business, but the fact it’s called Killing Kittens and boasts of ‘leading the sex club scene’ has ruffled many feathers.
While Emma laughs off their treatment of her, I know how bad it can get. I saw both sides of the PTA when I had to liaise with them as part of my job as director of external affairs at a prep school.
Parents’ crimes ranged from snobbery to downright bitchiness. I once witnessed two mums hurling abuse – and muffins – at each other during an argument about which of their sons should have been ‘most valued player’ in that afternoon’s under-9s football match.
Then there was the aggression with which one nutritionist PTA mum single-handedly forced through a sugar-free agenda for prep school dinners, leading to a memorable year of musty dates and beetroots featuring in every pudding, much to the horror of the kids – and everyone else.
The sort of pettiness that goes on in PTAs is what TV shows such as Motherland (pictured) and Amandaland captured so beautifully
I myself came in for shocking abuse as class rep at my own children’s primary. I dared to suggest we limit the donations for the class teacher’s Christmas gift to £20 a head. In a class of 25, that would amount to £500 and I thought that wasn’t a bad haul for a teacher.
But others disagreed.
‘If my daughter wants to give Mrs T theatre tickets for Hamilton,’ hissed one mum at me at pick-up time, ‘who am I to tell her she shouldn’t? How dare you!’
Tickets for said musical were then changing hands at about £400 each but, if that’s what it took for her ten-year-old to get a good school report for Common Entrance, then who was I to stand in her way?
I later read a survey that found 82 per cent of UK headteachers had reported abuse from parents in the past year; apparently, as a mere class rep, I had been lucky to escape actual slaps and death threats.
There’s clearly nothing so emotive as the hopes you have for your children. Nor the inner frustrations of formerly high-flying career women who’ve stepped back to have a family. They are channelling all that thwarted ambition into a new power league, all their aspirations now placed firmly on their children’s unwitting heads.
On paper, of course, the PTA represents the concerns of parents to the staff (better school dinners, clarity about homework, playground facilities) and raises funds for the school for extracurricular ‘value-addeds’.
But, in reality, it is much more of a vehicle for mothers to unleash their inner boss. Whether it’s berating those with jobs they disagree with – as with Emma Sayle – or castigating those who could do better in the cake department.
A friend of mine who was the PTA chair at her daughters’ prep school for years even admits it: ‘I wanted to channel my bossiness legally. I couldn’t bear all the selfish behaviour over parking and the hogging of teacher time for their own little Johnny.
‘I decided I would be better off harnessing the rich and vain parents, stopping them from taking up all the time and attention of my children’s teachers and diverting all that energy into doing something good. Ultimately, it’s about control.’
