The Parenting Papers: Volunteering for Seaholm's Senior All-Night Party

My history as a parent volunteer in the schools goes something like this: active, spotty, sort of active, spotty, active and as little as I could possibly get away with. I felt comfortable ignoring the call to volunteer, at times, because I worked. And, well, wasn’t it enough to work every day and contribute to the sheltering, clothing and cellphoning of my children?

Oh, sure, when our firstborn started school, I was pulled into volunteering by the giant wave of parent volunteers, mostly moms. So I did stints in the classroom as befuddled teacher’s aide, provider of plastic silverware for class parties and cookie mom for my daughter’s Brownie-turned-Girl Scout troop — because THAT mom was exempt from running any of the meetings when the two troop leaders ran out of ideas.

Once our children hit middle school, my volunteer efforts were mostly confined to behind-the-scenes costume changes at dance recitals for my daughter and working concessions at basketball games for my son.

Whew, I thought I’d gotten off pretty easy in a town where parents felt pressured to volunteer like an aging movie star forced into Botox injections.

That is, until I received an email from my daughter’s former Girl Scout leader. As current co-leader of ’s Senior All-Night Party (ANP), “the annual substance-free celebration attended by more than 90 percent of the senior class,” she wondered if I would co-chair the wishes committee. Evidently, she remembered my skill at separating the Thin Mints from the Samoas and the Tagalongs and the way in which I prepared for their delivery and distribution as cookie mom.

She said I’d work with Ann, the troop’s awesomely organized former treasurer — important, since wishes were a major fundraiser for the party.

I hadn’t done anything substantial in the way of volunteering in the schools for a few years, but this was my daughter’s last year of high school. Although I would have preferred Extremely Helpful Assistant over co-chair, I was in. What a way to send my daughter off to college, with one, big and possibly final hurrah as a parent volunteer.

With the exception of monthly committee meetings and Saturday sessions at Caribou with Ann to plan and drink Pomegranate Vanilla Tea Latte Fusions, our work had a slow start. If previous years were any indication, we wouldn’t receive wishes — “a message to your favorite senior that includes words of advice, congratulation, wisdom or hopes for the future, collected into a creative keepsake banner and given to each senior at the All Night Party” (as long as you are willing to pay a small fee) — en masse until spring.

Well, spring is here! And I have to say, I have never sorted so much paperwork in my entire life. These wishes (which arrive in my mailbox daily) must be alphabetized, logged, paid for, distributed and typed. To say nothing of the legwork that was required to recruit a reluctant group of typists (all moms), set up spreadsheets for tracking (all Ann) and create two distribution channels for incoming wishes: online and paper. (If you ask me, this entitles us to earned credits toward a supply chain management degree.)

Some days, I spend hours updating spreadsheets and typing wishes when I could be balancing my checkbook or solving world hunger. I sing the alphabet song as I sort hundreds of forms because I can never remember if J comes before I or after K. And sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, wondering if we’ll ever type and assemble the wishes in time.

I can’t tell you what the final product will look like because I’ve been sworn not to reveal any surprises. (But, trust me, they will look sharp!) I can tell you that the two co-leaders of this party are leading an army of parent volunteers who have thoughtfully planned for food, prizes, decorations and nonstop entertainment. Because of them, these kids will leave high school with a great final memory.

However, if the party planning committee comes a-callin' when it’s my son’s turn to graduate, I’m moving to Canada.