Class(34)

“It’s fine. I’m used to having my time wasted,” snapped April.

“April—how about cutting me some slack this morning?” said Karen, sighing. “It’s still early.”

“Fine, but only if you answer my question.” She leaned in, her gaze laserlike, her giant forehead gleaming beneath the dangling Edison bulbs. “Have you been in touch with Maeve’s parents?”

“Not really…” said Karen, who couldn’t bear to get into it with April but didn’t want her to think she’d lost any social capital. “I mean, just some e-mails,” she added, shrugging. “Why?”

“I understand they’ve switched her to the private public school known as Edward G. Mather.”

“Yeah, I heard the same,” said Karen, surprised to learn that April, too, cared about and must have been irked by Maeve’s transfer. They had that in common as well.

“I have to say, I was slightly appalled by the way the family handled it,” April went on. “Sending out that group e-mail reproducing their conversation with Principal Chambers? I thought it was very insensitive to Jayyden’s situation and also a violation of all parties’ privacy, including Principal Chambers’s.”

Karen secretly agreed with April, but under no circumstances was she willing to admit that. “Yeah, well, I guess they were pretty upset,” she said, attempting a tone of neutrality.

“That’s no excuse,” said April.

“Maybe not—anyway.” Karen cleared her throat in a way that was meant to signal their mutual need to get on with it and then out of there. “Since we don’t have much time, here are my thoughts on fund-raising for Betts. In the bigger picture, I think we need to raise the profile of the school so it attracts more families with money from the neighborhood. That’s a long-term goal. More immediately, I think we should do a direct appeal to the families we already have. The postage will probably cost a few hundred bucks. But assuming we can get all the home addresses of our families from the main office, I think it’ll be worth it. I’m happy to attempt a letter explaining that the school is basically under siege—not just from the statehouse, which cuts the public education budget every year, but from private entities like Winners Circle, who now want our classrooms too.

“I thought I could do a bullet-style list of all the extras that PTA money could be paying for if everyone got together and gave something. I have a feeling that we have quite a few families at the school, especially in kindergarten, who are actually in a position to give real money but who haven’t done so because, essentially, no one has ever pressured them into giving. Honestly, in all my years at Betts, I’ve never gotten a single letter asking for money, whereas my understanding is that other schools in the area basically bombard the parents with requests. I’ve heard that at Mather they send incoming kindergartners’ parents a letter in July, before their kids even arrive, demanding a thousand bucks from each family. Obviously, we’re not going to get anything close to that kind of money out of the average Betts household. But I don’t see why we can’t ask for something.”

For a few beats after Karen finished, April sat glaring at her and saying nothing. Then, overenunciating every syllable, her delivery glacial, she asked, “You want to send a letter by regular mail to our students’ homes asking their parents to give us money?”

“Yes,” said Karen, ignoring whatever point April was trying to make. “Direct appeals are really the beginning for every campaign. And as I said, since I’m under no illusions that we have a particularly wealthy student body, I’ll mention in my letter that no amount is too small. The important part is that everyone give what they can, whether it’s ten dollars, a hundred, or—hard to imagine, but you never know—a thousand. Participation is key. Later in the spring or early next fall, maybe we can start looking outside the school for matching grants and whatnot.”

April pursed her lips and looked away, her eyes appearing to home in on an etching of a donkey. Finally, she turned back to Karen and declared in a rapid clip, “I’m sorry, but I think it’s aggressive, and it’s not who we are as a school.”

“You think asking for money is aggressive?” asked Karen, incredulous.

“Yes. I do,” said April.

Karen leaned forward. “But April, how are we going to raise money if we don’t ask for it?”

“Our families contribute in other ways.”

“Yes, some contribute in other ways. And a few have devoted their lives to bettering the school, like you have. And I really admire you for it. But many families at the school basically use the place as a free daycare center and can’t even be bothered to walk their children into the building, let alone attend any events in the classroom, because they don’t give a fuck, or they’re overwhelmed and can’t deal, or it’s a cultural difference, or whatever. So let’s not mythologize-slash-romanticize poverty here. But I’m fairly sure there are a bunch of families in the lower grades who are pretty financially comfortable, like those women who are always complaining about the hormones in the milk in the cafeteria. And obviously those are the people we’d be targeting. Because I’m sure their kids all went to private preschools and now these children are attending kindergarten for free. So their families probably have some money to spare.”