The PTA Meeting

I talked my husband into going to a PTA meeting with me.

Since our daughter started kindergarten we have been paying members of the school’s PTA. Had we ever been to a PTA meeting? No, we had not.

This time around, when the flyer came home the first week of this school year with a date that worked for both of our schedules, I was determined for us to attend.

Now, I had mentioned the PTA meeting to my husband every few days after having received the flyer, and even had to remind him the day of. It was fine, I had it all worked out. He just had to come along. My live-in mother-in-law had agreed to watch our daughter that evening, so when it came time, we packed our camping chairs and headed off to the school.

I’m sure as we walked across the parking lot where the meeting was being held, my husband’s hawk eyes zeroed in on the participants present and took note of their gender. I made no such observations. We got to the group, some faces familiar, some new, greeted everyone, and set up our chairs.

It was then that my husband pointed out that there were only women present.

Crap.

My heart sank.

He did NOT look happy.

I looked around at the PTA officers, the nurse, and the principal at the head of the group– all female.

The group that has assembled so far – all moms.

I inwardly started to panic. This isn’t his thing, and it was already not going well. I assured him that he would not be the only guy there. And if he was, it just showed his level of involvement in his child’s education.

I still really needed another dude to show up.

We were given some handouts – the agenda for the meeting, notes from the last meeting of the previous school year and the proposed budget for the new school year. I perused the documents, all the while taking note on the increasing number of attendees, all female.

Please let a dude show up, please let a dude show up.

I repeated this mantra in my mind, willing just one man to join the meeting. To save my husband from feeling self-conscious as the only male at the meeting and to save myself from sarcastic reminders I would be sure to get from him going forward.

I could hear it now. Me: Wanna come (x place) with me? Him: Are there gonna be men there?

So, with all my might, I willed just one person with XY chromosomes to join. Literally attempted to use the force to make it happen.

Also, why hadn’t it occurred to me that the participants would be majority female? If I’d thought that, I would’ve attended a long time ago on my own . No, there was definitely an idea in my mind that this was something both parents would be involved in. I don’t know, I’m not from the suburbs. Chalk it up to naïveté.

And then it happened.

I had to stop myself from heaving a sigh of relief when I caught sight of a husband walking alongside his wife as they approached the group.

“You’re not the only one,” I told my husband triumphantly.

He harrumphed his displeasure.

Lo and behold, more men began to arrive; most with their wives but one even came solo. Six in total. Out of the thirty-ish people positioned in a circle on the pavement in camping chairs and blankets. Personally, I think there should have been more father representation, but I guess someone has to watch the kids.

Nevertheless, I felt the tension in my shoulders slowly release as my anxiety eased.

It was an okay meeting. Informative. Paying members, us included, approved the budget for the year. A rundown of activities for the year; only a few local trips and a forecast of potential activities the kids could do if COVID restrictions are lifted. The nurse presented updated information regarding quarantine and isolation protocols for students.

You know, the norm.

When it was over, I promised I’d never drag him to another meeting.

It’s the least I could do for such a close call.