Fundraiser or Hellraiser

AJ broke down yesterday after school, wailing, bawling, and even a couple of loud screams after I sent her to the basement to get it out of her system. What happened? School happened. They did this to my daughter.

Brainwashing (harsh, but it looks like a duck and walks like one)

You see, the school is looking to raise money for computers, so they’re having a fundraiser. Apparently they lured all the kids into the gym and had a rally, building their excitement to squeals and clapping.

This collective frenzy, though, had nothing to do with computers at all. It was about four things: a free T-shirt, plastic sunglasses, a plastic bracelet, and a family vacation to Florida. These are the prizes to be given to kids who raise a certain amount of money.

Deception (at best, misleading)

After they’ve gotten the kids all on the edge of their seats with glee, they hit them (us parents) with the thing they have to do to “win”.

As we went through AJ’s backpack yesterday, she told me about this fundraiser first. She was so excited about the glasses, and the T-shirt, the glow-in-the-dark T-shirt. It looked harmless enough at first: a book of fill-in-the blank post cards to send to loved ones soliciting help in the fundraiser. On the postcard, the text mentioned a catalog for them to buy from. I saw no catalog.

I read closer to find that these post cards will all be sent with a catalog later by the school. We just fill in the blanks and the school takes care of the rest (how kind of them). But wait, something still isn’t right.

All over the post card is this verbiage about winning a T-shirt, even a picture of it and size chart for us to circle AJ’s size on each one. Then, in small text, a small blurb about how the money would be used to buy computers for the school. Phew! I thought we were buying a T-shirt!

No. (and the reaction)

So I told AJ gently that this kind of fundraiser wasn’t one we could participate in, but I had an alternative solution. I should have told her my alternative first because the moment I took the sunglasses, bracelet, and T-shirt from her, her world was over (nevermind that we could pop over to the dollar store and buy them for her, though we wouldn’t). She went into an emotional tailspin and I couldn’t bring her back. She had to follow it through.

She’s very emotional anyway, so we go through this a lot. Once I told her she couldn’t have a snack because it was too close to dinner. Same reaction.

When she had calmed down, I told her my idea. We have an old computer in the basement that the school could fix up. We’d give them that, and maybe a little money if we have some extra after the groceries and things.

She admitted it wasn’t about computers, but about her winning those prizes. She’s seven–she says what she thinks and I love her honesty. So we talked about why she thought that way, which is when she told me, but all the kids were screaming, everyone was so excited. I wanted to be a part of it, I heard her say in her heart.

Why (explanation soothes the soul)

It’s not a good idea to try to reason with a child or defend your position, because it opens the door for negotiation, and like terrorists, we do not negotiate with our children. But, as a thirsty soul myself, I know how important it is sometimes just to know the why behind decisions, so I share this with AJ whenever I can.

I had a few reasons for saying no to the fundraiser:

1. Prizes
   It’s deplorable that schools are teaching kids to raise money for a cause so that they can win a prize. It’s what leads to adults going into the business of fundraising, where they do it to make money rather than help others. It leads to the scams we saw with Katrina, people pretending to raise relief funds but just taking your money. There’s no heart in this approach, no one teaching the kids about the school’s need for computers, why they need them, what they use them for. If they did teach any of that, it was lost among the screams for toy prizes.
2. No catalog
   We also don’t get to see this catalog they’re sending out to people, so we have no clue what we’re asking them to buy. It could be a catalog for sex toys for all we know (of course not, but you get the point).
3. Form letters
   If there’s one thing we’ve tried to teach AJ thus far, it’s transparency and honesty. Signing her name to a pre-written post card implies that she is behind the message being sent, that she’s fully aware of it and endorses it. She can’t possibly.

The bottom line is that the school is using these kids to solicit money from their friends and family. They’re bribing them, coercing them, and it’s wrong. AJ understands honesty and she knew this fundraiser wasn’t honest, but they had gotten her so fired up about prizes she lost sight of that (and wasn’t that the point).

So we talked about how our little 2-year-old M likes to put stuff in her mouth all the time and how AJ is always telling her not to (good little mommy). I said, you know how she screams and throws a fit because she doesn’t understand? But you understand. You know why she shouldn’t put that in her mouth. You just can’t explain it to her because she’s too little to get it, but she just has to trust that you’re looking out for her. It’s the same with you and me. Sometimes there are things that can hurt you more than help you and you just can’t understand it yet. But you have to trust me. I wouldn’t do anything that isn’t ultimately good for you. Note to self: It’s the same with God and me. :)

On the booklet of post cards there were two boxes to check:

__ Yes, we want to win a trip to Florida
__ No, we don’t want to win a trip to Florida

Nice.

So she got on the bus this morning a bright cheery girl again, blowing me kisses from the front seat with a big smile. My only prayer today is that she not get put down because I checked the “NO” box.

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Copyright © 2010 Natalie Jost