The thing I dislike most about Maddie's school is the fund raising. Hardly a day goes by that I don't get an email asking to support the band, the cheerleaders, the 5th grade Save the Turtle club, or the 8th grade High School Musical Fan Club. And by "support", I mean "give money".
Maddie is in the 3 day a week Mother's Day Out program. It's not even real school yet, but please don't tell her that.
I've avoided most of the money pleas. Like the freakin' plague. Mostly because we are not 100% sure that Maddie will be attending this school next year. And I don't want to give away my hard earned money to the building fund for a building that she may never step foot in.
Last week, I got the most dreaded of all fundraising strategies. The blank envelope in which to gather pledges for a walk-a-thon.
I considered calling upon my family and friends. But, really, why? Would I want to pledge money to a random school? Um, no. Did I want to explain that it was for the new building and then explain that we were switching schools? Definitely no.
So, I filled in my name and my name only with a pledge of $2/lap that Maddie walked. I figured that since each lap was 1/10 of a mile and she had 45 minutes to walk, I might be out $10-$12 tops. I could swing that.
When I dropped her off, I gave her the standard pep talk. "You will do great. Take. Your. Time. Don't worry if you are being the slowest. In fact, try to be the slowest. I know you can do it."
When I picked her up later that day, I noticed a number written on the back of her walk-a-thon shirt.
"Um, sweetie? Why do you have the number 19 written on the back of your shirt?"
"That's how many laps I did."
$38 going to a brand new building. Woo-hoo. insert heavy sarcasm.
Next time I'm sending Maddie to collect money. From neighbors. From strangers in the grocery. From the post office workers. From anyone that can not resist serious cuteness.
It's a brilliant strategy, if I do say so myself. The school gets the money it wants so badly, and I won't have to give it to them.