Emails from my children’s school flood my inbox daily, ranging from notifications about PTA meetings to updates on Halloween events and reading celebrations. There are endless messages about fundraisers, field trips, and even how to opt out of Common Core testing. Occasionally, I receive addenda correcting previous messages that misstate event locations or contact numbers. And then there are those perplexing emails with subject lines like “PRINCIPAL’S UPDATE,” featuring only an empty body and an attached mystery PDF. What could it possibly contain?
This is just Monday.
As a working parent with a typical social life—and of course, my kids, for whom all this communication is supposedly meant—keeping up with this deluge is overwhelming. The sheer volume of emails feels more like an obligation than a meaningful exchange. I would be more engaged if the content seemed valuable, if it genuinely enriched my children’s experiences or strengthened our connection with their teachers. Instead, it often comes across as impersonal and poorly composed, failing to address my children’s interests or concerns.
When I was a child, my father had little awareness of my school life beyond what was reflected in my report cards. The current culture of incessant emailing is just one facet of a frantic communication trend in schools, where there’s a persistent push to foster a sense of community. This is quite different from my upbringing; my father didn’t attend school events or arrange meetings with other parents. As far as I can tell, everyone was content with that arrangement, and I see no reason to have strayed from it. Yet here we are.
I do attend school concerts and classroom events, and I participate in parent-teacher meetings. During those moments, I often feel a brief sense of accomplishment for being present. However, what lingers is the odd disconnect between the vibrant, quirky personalities of my daughters and the bland, formulaic reports I receive from their teachers.
Despite the abundance of communication, the quality of interaction remains lacking. Teachers and administrators don’t seem to have a deeper understanding of our children. Simple inquiries like “Who does my daughter connect with in class?” or “Who does she have conflicts with?” often receive vague responses due to privacy policies. Perhaps the sheer volume of correspondence hampers the ability to forge genuine relationships. With large class sizes, standardized test preparation, and the regular lockdown drills now part of the educational landscape, it’s a wonder teachers find any time for individual attention amidst the barrage of emails they are required to send each week.
Public schooling has become a checklist exercise. In that spirit, I’ve decided to check a box of my own: marking all these emails as spam.
This article originally appeared on March 17, 2015.
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In summary, I’ve opted to filter out the overwhelming barrage of emails from my kids’ school, finding that the quantity of communication does not equate to quality engagement. This decision reflects a desire to prioritize meaningful interactions while navigating the chaotic landscape of modern parenting.