The Village Of School Still Exists But It’s A Bit Of A Privilege Now

My elementary school in my breezy, beachside Florida hometown was quaint and familial. Seagulls squawked over the pavilion during P.E. class, and you could smell the ocean anytime you walked from the cafeteria to recess. All the classrooms opened up to little courtyards with picnic tables, and our parents would gather outside the doors for us to be released at 2:30 each day. I still remember walking out in the afternoon and knowing exactly which of my classmates each mother was there for, their first names, and the cars they drove home each day. I remember the way my mom chatted with everyone at first, then, over the course of the school year, gravitated toward the other mothers who’d been through divorce — those women, especially, were kind and caring toward me even when I wasn’t necessarily close with their kids.

Today, parents are lucky when they get the opportunity to set foot on campus. There is no waiting in the courtyard together each day; schools are fenced in, badge entry protected, and battened down to prevent any kind of violence or tragedy. While I obviously appreciate the protection for my own child, it comes at a cost. It is harder than ever to find community with other parents at our kids’ schools.

Recently, I mentioned this feeling of disconnect to a coworker — that I wouldn’t know how to get in touch with another parent in my son’s class without asking his teacher for their information, and I didn’t even know if she was allowed to give it to me. She said her son’s school had a directory that parents could opt into, which shared their phone numbers, email addresses, and children’s names so things like birthday and playdate invitations, and rides to and from school, could be arranged easily. That seemed wild to me, and my other colleagues, as we all so rarely see the other parents in my kids’ classes. And asking for such information feels inappropriate, like prying, when it’s not made readily available.

During my son’s first year at his new school, I felt totally lost when it came to meeting and connecting with other parents. We don’t congregate at any point during the week to drop off or pick up, and when my son asked if he could have a classmate over to play, it felt awkward to even ask for their parents’ info. Teachers do so much already — should I really pester them about this sort of thing? “No” is the answer I always settled on.

Instead, I tried to make myself known any chance I could. When my son points out another child he knows at pickup, I go out of my way to greet their mom. Birthday parties for other students? We’re there, and I’m chatting you up between pizza and cake. My husband and I went to all the open houses and school events. I volunteered in the classroom. I chaperoned a field trip. Doing these things is a privilege, obviously — I am lucky to work for people who value parents and are super flexible with allowing me to attend daytime events. Not everyone is so fortunate. But by finding ways to bump elbows with other parents whenever I could, I kind of got to recreate the courtyard crew I remember from my own childhood.

This year when we returned to school, we followed our usual routine: We parked in the grass lot across from the school, got out, and gathered our things. Before even crossing the street, the mom of one of my son's classmates — a mom I’d befriended at a birthday party, and again on a field trip — rolled down her window as she passed by. “Hey! So good to see you!” she said, and it genuinely felt that way to me too. We said good morning to the school resource officer directing traffic. Another mom friend who had just dropped her son off saw us and gave me a big hug. My son’s wonderful music teacher was at the front gate, greeting everyone. After he went to class, I strolled to the cafeteria for the first day “boohoo breakfast” thrown by our PTA, and quickly found a table full of parents from my neighborhood all munching on croissants and talking about their kids’ first-day feelings. Some were new, and the parents I was already acquainted with made introductions.

I walked back to my car, smiling inside, and texted my mom, glowing that all the times we’d shown up the previous year had indeed resulted in a sense of community. Cultivating that is no longer as simple as showing up to pick up my kid every day. It was inconvenient and sometimes simply not possible to make it to everything. But by going to the things I could, making conversation even when I normally wouldn’t, and giving my time when I had some to spare, I finally feel grounded in the network of parents at my son’s school. And yes, he knows many of their names and what they drive too.