To the Victor Goes The Spoils and the key to the school

It was an unprecedented crowd who gathered in the staffroom of our local primary school last night, to witness and take part in the vote for the Parents & Citizens Office holders. Word on the street was that our beloved President, and a dear friend of mine, was being contested by a fella whom I have to admit, I did not know. I found a seat next the wine and cheese table and once again, I failed Feb Fast in seconds.

Wine and cheese at a P & C Meeting? Why had I not been a regular attendee?

The room continued to fill, as this particular even was the most controversial thing that had ever happened in our suburb since someone graffitied FUK on the bus stop near the shops. Il Presidente, as I like to call her, sat with her team opposite the opposition and his team. They meant business, with their ties and their iPads, writing a lot of notes to each other. With the welcomes and the niceties over, it was time to vote.

The would-be-president outlined his experiences and background and why he wanted to change things up a little. The standing candidate did the same, but in a much less corporate way. Everyone was handed a piece of paper, and the School Principal walked around with a cardboard box to collect the votes.

“Can I have a volunteer to count the votes?” He asked the crowd. Fuelled by two plastic cups of warm wine, I stood rose like a phoenix from the ashes, raised my hand into the air and declared…

“I sir, will count the votes.”

Because I love the democratic process and I am nosy. I went with another school Mum into the hallway, sat on the floor and got counting. I took my job very seriously and double counted. It was very clear that the incumbent nominee was the victor. We handed the Principal the results and walked back into the crowded room. I looked a the floor. I gave nothing away. The results were announced and we all gave the unsuccessful nominee a round of applause.

And so on and so on until it came time for the call for nominations for the Treasurers position, of which there was only one.

Or so we thought.

Once the nominee gave a little speech about what a good accountant he was, we heard another voice.

“I’ll have a go…”

It was a kindy kids Dad, only weeks into the Primary School gig. He also gave a little speech about how much he loved the school, how he went to the school, how his classroom is now the Uniform Shop (They need more volunteers FYI) and how he was a local lad who has moved back into the area because he wanted his kids to have the same, marvellous experience that he had, many decades ago.

Well, give a tear-jerking speech to a group of mainly mothers, and dude. YOU HAVE GOT YOURSELF A POSITION ON THE P&C! However, this didn’t go down without some controversy apparently, because I was not there to witness it at the end of the meeting, I cannot deny or confirm that a storm out took place. (But neighbourhood gossip would have me believe that indeed there was.)

So there you have it. It will always be known as the meeting that they have to get chairs from the classrooms to fit everyone.

THE END

If you would like to read more ridiculous tales from Primary school, you can buy my book here.