“I’m guessing ten to fifteen grand for all of it?”
“I like the idea. I just wonder if it’s the kind of thing that would make more sense on the middle-or high-school level. I’m not up on the current science, but to my mind, ten and even eleven years old seems a little young for kids to be identifying themselves that way. Though I’m sure it does happen.”
“Well, there might be only one kid in the school right now who’s come out as a trans person, but I’m sure there are others dealing with the same feelings. And even if there aren’t, it’s an issue that affects the whole school. Apparently, there was an incident last week in which some fourth-graders objected to Liam using the boys’ bathroom, and the teacher—I’m not going to name names—basically sided with the objectors, which I thought was totally outrageous. But whatever.”
“Okay, but doesn’t Lia-I-mean-Liam still have a vagina?” cut in Leigh. “I mean—sorry if this isn’t PC—but my son was one of the kids who didn’t feel comfortable, and honestly, I can’t really blame him.”
There was mumbling and grumbling.
“Ladies, why don’t we wait to see a proposal before we make any decisions,” said Susan. “Deirdre, can you get us something to look at by the end of the week?”
“I’ll do my best,” she answered.
“Any other proposals?” asked Susan.
“More technology in the classroom?” asked Meredith.
“Well, we already have iMacs, iPads, patch panels, and ceiling-mounted video projectors in every classroom,” said Janine, the STEM chair. “And the library—as you can see looking around you—is pretty teched up too.”
Once again, Denise’s hand popped up. Karen could have sworn she saw certain members of the Embellished Tunic Brigade roll their eyes in anticipation. “I have a proposal,” began the vice president. “I’d really love to see the school commit to using recycled toilet paper.” The interim treasurer made a face expressing revulsion, prompting a new round of half-stifled giggles. It was becoming increasingly clear to Karen that Denise was the April Fishbach of Mather—that is, the mother whom all the other ones loved to complain about—and Liz was her chief antagonist. “I’m sorry,” Denise went on, “but it literally breaks my heart thinking about forests getting destroyed so our kids can wipe.”
“So you want the kids to use secondhand toilet paper?” asked Liz, sounding mock incredulous.
“It’s not secondhand toilet paper,” scoffed Denise. “It’s recycled paper that’s turned into toilet paper.”
“Well, that’s a relief.”
There were still more giggles. Denise grimaced again. “Anyway, it seems to me that if this school is committed to preserving the environment, we should begin using sustainable paper products. If that makes me an ogre or a laughingstock, so be it.”
“Well, let’s give some thought to all these ideas in the next two weeks,” said Susan. “Anyone with a proposal, please submit it by Friday. In the meantime, let’s talk fund-raising!” She turned back to Karen. “The school year ends in two months, I realize. And traditionally, fall and winter are our biggest moneymaking seasons. But I think the rest of you know how disappointed I was with the results of the spring auction. We netted just over six hundred thousand.” Karen coughed to disguise her shock. “Which might sound like a lot,” Susan went on. “But the year before, we made over seven. And we had similarly disappointing results from last fall’s Harvest Dance. On that note, Karen, I was wondering if you might have time to mastermind a kind of last-ditch spring fund-raising event. Like maybe a picnic or something? I was thinking we could call it Fund in the Sun. Too corny?” She surveyed the group.
“No, I think it’s—cute,” Karen replied with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, even as she wondered, Why raise more money when you can’t spend the money you already have?
“Glad you like it,” said Susan, smiling. “And since you’re going to be working the money angle, how about becoming our treasurer for the duration of the school year? Liz has kindly been filling in, but—as you can see—she’s due any day now with baby number three.”
Silently groaning at the prospect of devoting even more time to a cause she didn’t support, Karen glanced over at the Mather PTA interim treasurer and realized that her embellished tunic was in fact inflated to capacity. “Wow—congratulations,” she muttered.
“Thanks,” Liz answered morosely.
“I never made it past baby number one,” Karen felt somehow compelled to add, if only as a distraction from her own mounting obligations.
“That’s probably because you’re sane. Apparently, I have a deep masochistic streak.”
Karen smiled, then turned back to Susan and said, “Anyway, I’m very flattered to have been asked. But—”
“But you’re busy, I know,” said Susan. “I promise that being treasurer is not a time-consuming position. Liz can show you where we keep the books, so to speak, and how to get into the account. And I assume you’re familiar with Excel?” Before Karen had time to answer, she turned to the rest of the group and said, “All those in favor of electing Karen our new interim treasurer, please raise your hands!”
Nine hands went up. It was suddenly clear to Karen that no one else wanted the job—moreover, that they’d already tagged her for it. Allison was right, Karen thought. This was her punishment for lying about her address. Even so, her heart sank.
“So it’s settled,” said Susan. “Karen, congrats. You are officially on the executive board now.”
“I’m honored,” Karen said miserably.
“Now, moving right along to arts committee business,” Susan said, turning to her left. “Meredith, can you tell us what arts enrichment you’ve lined up for the month? I understand Pilobolus was a big hit.”
“Yes, it was. And this month, the fourth grade is going to see La Bohème, and the experimental puppeteering troupe Stringtheory is performing a kid-friendly version of Schindler’s List for the third grade. We also have a West African drumming troupe coming next week to perform for the lower school, thanks in part to the multicultural committee.”
“Thank you, Meredith. Sounds fabulous,” said Susan.
The others nodded in agreement—even Denise, who apparently found nothing ecologically objectionable about men with dark skin striking animal skins with sticks.