Let me share a personal experience: I was working as an executive editor at a company preparing for an IPO. As a newly single mother, I was the only caretaker and provider for my children. One Thursday, I approached my manager to inform her that I needed to leave by 4:30 p.m. to make it to my 7-year-old’s school performance. The next morning, I’d arrive late to accommodate his class breakfast. “It’s fine,” I assured her, “I can catch up on editing from home.” I wasn’t seeking permission; I merely wanted to keep her informed.
Her response was surprising: “You can’t do both. You need to pick one.” I was taken aback. Perhaps she was having a rough day. What followed was, in hindsight, quite inappropriate: she advised me against expecting leniency, suggested I forgo both events, and warned that my job hung in the balance due to the IPO, regardless of my performance. Ultimately, I chose to attend the performance, and my child was disappointed during the breakfast. Just three months later, I was let go. “We couldn’t even find you to fire you,” the HR representative stated bluntly.
It turned out my presence at the office wasn’t the real issue; it was simply a convenient excuse amidst the company’s efforts to present a leaner image to investors. My absence from work was used as a scapegoat for the larger corporate strategy.
This narrative serves as a lead-in to the chaos of May Madness—a time filled with potluck breakfasts, performances, field trips, and parent-teacher conferences that many working parents dread. It’s not that we don’t care about being there for our children; these events are often meaningful milestones. Yet the sheer volume of obligations can feel overwhelming, especially when job security is fragile.
In her book, The Tumbleweed Society: Working and Caring in an Age of Insecurity, sociologist Allison Pugh notes that in Silicon Valley, half of the workforce is replaced every two years, and restructuring occurs even during prosperous times. This creates an environment where employees are acutely aware that their jobs can vanish at any moment. Each school obligation then transforms into another risk for potential job loss.
Reflecting on my childhood in the 1970s, parental involvement in school was minimal. My mother didn’t pop in with casseroles or show up for random events. In fact, her presence at school typically indicated something serious, like illness or a scheduled conference. Nowadays, the expectations placed on parents have escalated dramatically, especially for those working long hours or single parents like myself.
Take, for example, Sarah Mitchell, a mother of three and a schoolteacher in Pennsylvania. She describes May as a whirlwind of messages about teacher appreciation gifts and requests for classroom volunteers. In stark contrast, Brigitte Green, a single mother and teacher in Luxembourg, finds the system there refreshingly different. “Here, nothing is expected of parents,” she shares. “You can contribute a dish for a school feast, but attendance is optional.” Additionally, Luxembourg offers free morning daycare and affordable after-school programs.
While some American parents find fulfillment in participating, like Jessica Lee, a CEO who cherishes every classroom invitation, many working parents feel stretched thin. Elizabeth Thompson, an editor from California, expresses eagerness to attend events outside work hours. However, when I solicited feedback from parents about school obligations, the overwhelming response was one of stress and frustration. “I’m too busy to even discuss it!” lamented single mother, Amy Carter.
So, what’s the solution? Should schools ease expectations, or should corporations become more accommodating? We must find a balance between the European model, which expects less parental involvement, and the current demands on American parents. Sheryl Sandberg, COO of Facebook, advocates for work-life balance and has openly shared her commitment to leaving work by 5 p.m. This is a particularly poignant challenge for single parents who bear the burden of these responsibilities alone.
The conflict arises from differing priorities: corporations aim for profit, parents strive to nurture, schools seek to educate, and children simply want to feel supported and loved at their events. These goals often clash, creating a complicated web of expectations.
While it’s easy to suggest that workplaces should offer more flexibility and parents should accept limitations, this won’t change overnight. However, progress is achievable. When I had my first child in 1995, I never saw fathers with infants during working hours. By 2006, it became an accepted sight. If schools could adjust their expectations—perhaps favoring potluck dinners over breakfasts and scheduling events later in the evening—corporations might respond with greater flexibility.
I believe we can make strides toward a more balanced future for our children. It’s crucial that we voice our concerns to school leaders and employers about the current state of parent involvement.
As for me, I need to run; it’s 4:30 p.m., my child’s after-school program ends at 5:30 p.m., and my commute is an hour long. Here’s hoping I can slip out without drawing attention.