It was the moment all parents dream of from the day they send junior to kindergarten. My daughter was on the stage at her graduation, being honored as one of the top students in her class and the top community service student. As I beamed brightly, another mother leaned over and whispered, "What’s your secret to her success?"
Were I in a sitcom, I would have gazed knowingly into a camera and a giant cartoon bubble would have appeared over my head. In the bubble would be some of my memorable experiences from my daughter’s years in school.
Like the day I had to drive my car 40 miles with more than 2,000 donated bags of potato chips in it for field day.
Or the eighth-grade whale watch—me holding back the hair of child after child after seasick child, each throwing up with gusto.
Me running the middle school "store" at lunchtime, my adolescent daughter recoiling in horror at the vision of her mom exposed to her world.
Or the midnight session when a handful of moms finished off all the goody bags for Breakfast with Santa. Candy cane, jingle bell, note from Santa—over and over until there were 700 of them.
Those images passed through my mind as the woman, awaiting my response, wondered why I was smiling.
"Good study habits," I said with a wink. Because really, who would believe that the seemingly benign tasks of school volunteers lead to academic success for their children?
Well, me, for one. I was raised by a volunteering mom. My school memories are peppered with thoughts of big exams and advanced courses, the real spice comes from things like the time my mom stayed up all night sewing green felt skirts for the backup cast for my fifth-grade production of Macbeth. (I got to be the main witch; Mom got just about every other task.)
Mom was a PTO president, a classroom mom, a field trip chaperone. She was, without saying so out loud, my partner in everything I did at school. I never thought much about it then. I mean, isn’t that just what moms and dads do?
Then I became a mom. I stumbled into my first PTO meeting not knowing a soul; I was a young parent, and this was my first child in the school. In that room, as one friend with older children had promised me would happen, I found a group of people as motivated and dedicated about being a positive part of their children’s education as I wanted to be.
Before I knew it, I was one of the handful of moms always on the "do." Setting up the field day and then running it. Helping run an auction that would raise more money than our little PTO had ever seen before. Lugging 488 juice boxes from the storage area. Books! Field trips! Curtains for the auditorium!
Deep down, I knew what I was doing would pay off. I was showing my daughter that to make things happen, you have to roll up your sleeves. I was, letting her know that school and its surrounding activities were an important part of her life and I was sharing it with her.
As she took the stage that graduation day, she was joined by four or five other top achievers. Watching them line up, I had a revelation: Each was the child of one of those parents helping that night with the Santa bags. Lugging the juice boxes. Setting up the balloon toss for field day.
I leaned over to one of the other moms, tapped her on the shoulder, and gestured toward the stage where our kids were reveling in the kudos. "We must have picked the right crafts," I said, smiling. She knew just what I meant.
—Moira McCarthy