#homeschooled

Most, huh? So tell me why every one of my friends as a kid was homeschooled?

Obligatory “my opinions are my own and not intended to represent the whole of autistics, homeschoolers, or accidental PTA presidents” caveat.

I know, WTF indeed.

To quote the magnanimous Sam Reich, “The only way to begin is by beginning” and the very beginning of this story is the fact that I was homeschooled from kindergarten up through twelfth grade. I had a homeschool prom and homeschool graduation (there were other homeschool kids at both, it wasn’t just me and my siblings). I enjoy telling people that I met my current husband while escorting (“He trained me on my first day!), it was security escorting but that’s less entertaining. He will then chime in with “don’t forget to tell them how you met your first husband at homeschool”. Which is arguably even more entertaining.

Both my first husband and I were homeschooled from elementary through high school. I went on to take classes at community college then transfer to a four-year university for my B.S. We’d always intended to homeschool our kids, we have three, but after the divorce we enrolled them in public school. My kids going into public school has been my entire experience with public school to date.

Institutional knowledge? We don’t know her.

Elementary school was actually pretty great. The teachers were sweet and communicative, and when our middle son started struggling, his teacher made special accommodations for him without requiring an IEP or 504 Plan (all you need to know about those is they’re for in-class accommodations, take forever to get, and not everybody respects the fact the student has one). Then came the hell known as middle school.

I knew it was going to be awful for my kids. I was prepared for that. I was not prepared for how awful it was also going to be for me.

Those expectations that the elementary school teachers set for interactions and communications? Out the window.

The school year started in late August. By October, when I saw a post on social media about a PTA meeting, I was already frustrated with the quality (and lack thereof) of school communications. I decided to go to the meeting. That was my first mistake. I did one of my more autistic things and researched “how to attend PTA meetings” extensively before I went. As it turned out, I didn’t have to go that hard into the research.

There was no PTA. The meeting was to gauge interest in re-starting a previously-abandoned PTA. There were 9 people in attendance, one of them was the school principal. No other teachers or staff. The principal and 8 parents. That was three and a half years ago.

I learned that one of the requirements was a minimum of 3 board members: President, Treasurer, Secretary. Vice President was optional. Now, I knew (from my research) that the Secretary had to take minutes and I did not want to do that in a volunteer position. I had to do it for work, I didn’t want to double-up. They already had a President and Treasurer, so I said they could put me down as Vice President because, “I have three kids, I’ll ‘be here’ for seven more years.” That was my second mistake.

In that meeting, I learned the following requirements for a PTA in our area:

3board members

Bank account

Insurance

Letter of Good Standing with overseeing PTAs (county and state)

Our PTA had just the 3 board members and none of the others because the school had changed names two years prior. Because the original PTA had incorporated the old school name, the school’s name change meant the PTA had to change their name.

That process took an entire year.

I don’t know why, I couldn’t tell you. I can tell you that the school was gracious enough to host “unofficial” PTA meetings in their spaces so we could get around insurance requirements for the time being. The lack of a bank account was the true hold up. We couldn’t accept dues or hold fundraisers without them. Participation dwindled because it (accurately) appeared like we couldn’t do anything until we had a bank account. Which we couldn’t get until the name changed.

Year 2 of this process starts.

We have the name change, but there were other requirements to get us into “good standing”, and we needed the “good standing” letter to become a 501(c)(3) Non Profit, which we needed to open a bank account. Tax paperwork had to be submitted (for what? Literally $0 in our non-existant bank accounts but ooookay), bylaws needed to be updated (easy enough: copy, paste, done), state “Personal Property Report” needed to be submitted (again, nothing to report but fine), state “Financial Review Form”--are you getting the idea? A bunch of paperwork was required to get into “good standing” but because we weren’t in “good standing” none of this paperwork was reporting ANYTHING. WHY was it required?

Actually, I got over the “why is this required” hold up early on in the process. I knew from working in my industry that asking “why” was rarely helpful if you were already mid-process. The thing that mattered most in that moment was: you’re here now, it’s required to get through, so just do it.

The part that DOES still get to me is that three years later, I STILL HAVE TO KEEP FILING THESE “EMPTY” FORMS in order to remain in good standing, which I need to continue the process of starting the PTA. I have worked in the federal government for almost seventeen years and have NEVER encountered an exercise in futility this aggravating.

If I had to give you a TL;DR of my entire experience (don’t worry, there’s still much more rant coming, I’m still VP at this point in the story), it’s this: the process for re/starting a PTA has been shoe-horned into the process for sustaining an existing PTA and they are very much not the Same ThingTM.

By the end of Year 2 of Reinstatement, we had exactly one thing: a new name. It was time for the President to move on as her daughter had finished 8th grade and was moving into high school. I was passed the baton and I accepted it. Third mistake.

At the beginning of Year 3 of Reinstatement, one of the school admins put me in touch with the president of the county PTA and I rejoiced. Here was someone who could help me navigate this god-awful process. Fourth mistake.

First, I get an email from that president with a bullet list of action items. Good enough, I appreciate a list of action items. I had some questions though. Specifically about the EIN (the number the IRS gives business accounts so they can do tax shit) because the president advised I needed to follow the steps to reactivate our old one.

I sent a long email (fifth mistake) with my questions and points of clarification to the president. Instead of answering what I asked, she answered questions I didn’t ask. She said I wasn’t instructed to create a new EIN (which I’d done because the last one was inactivated during the Obama administration, I didn’t see appoint in resurrecting data that old when the IRS only required businesses keep tax records up to five years–which I’d explained in my long email), and I needed to follow the steps to reactivate the old one.

See earlier paragraph about how asking “why” isn’t always productive. I accepted this and moved on, but still required answers to my other questions and pushed for a response to them. Reply from President: “Oh, I guess you don’t need to reactivate the old EIN.”

Face meet palm.

That was October. I did all the things on the checklist, filed all the empty or $0 forms I could, and finally reached a roadblock: I couldn’t continue until I had a letter from the State PTA before I could register/incorporate as a non-profit with the State. I reached out to County President. Heard nothing. Ok, she’s in charge of a lot of PTAs, we have hundreds in the county, I’m sure she’s busy.

December. County President reaches out to me, tells me that oh actually I need to register under a neighboring state’s PTA because our state’s state-level PTA had some drama and are still getting their shit together. What. The. Fuck.

I fill out the form she gives me, I ask where to send it and she says, “oh I’ll forward it to where it needs to go”. I give it to her. Sixth mistake. I follow up a couple weeks later, letting her know I hadn’t heard anything yet, did the neighboring state send her anything? No response.

March. County President emails me asking if I’d checked this random spreadsheet on the IRS website because it confirms our membership under the neighboring state. I have a bathroom cry at work out of sheer frustration because at what point would I have found out this spreadsheet existed or knew to check it to confirm A NEIGHBORING STATE’S PTA HAD CLAIMED US?? She agrees I probably wouldn’t have known to do that. Naturally. I tell her I don’t have a letter from the neighboring state and I need it to move forward, can she put me in touch with the POC (point of contact) over there? No, but she can reach out. Seventh mistake. Also the address on file with the IRS is incorrect and I needed to correct it (I misunderstood what address needed to be on file and put my own). Fine.

Hope appeared on the horizon in an unexpected form: an incoming parent (for the fall) who was president of the PTA at the elementary school wants to help! Huzzah! I filled her in on the state of the PTA (trying explicitly not to trauma-dump on her and scare her away) and asked if I continued handling the paperwork, could she handle holding elections? Yes, absolutely! Huzzah again!

April. County President emails neighboring state PTA about our letter, CC’s myself and New Accomplice. Better late than never I guess. Neighbor PTA sends letter. It’s for a different school. County PTA catches this (thankfully because I would have just accepted it and taken it to the bank, that’s what I get for assuming competence I guess) and asks they resend. They resend. It’s still the wrong one. County PTA sends using our EIN (the new one, small vindication) and we finally get the official letter that I’ve been waiting almost an entire calendar year for.

New requirement: County President includes a list of action items that I’m already familiar with (see earlier paragraph about empty forms) but includes a new one: PTAs must have ten members on the books.

I’m sorry, FUCKING WHAT?

How am I three, almost four, years into this process and you’re still giving me new requirements?!

Brain = 🤯

I don’t have a conclusion to this essay because this process is still ongoing. I will leave you with an anecdote from my coworker.

Actual conversation at work:

Me: this whole process would be better if–

Coworker: –Careful Ghoulboss, that’s how you became PTA president

Me: goddamnit you’re right, I guess I’ll leave that alone