Why School Spirit Days Will Break Your Spirit

“We’ve got spirit, Rah Rah Rah!”

The time is 8:15, and the bus arrives at the neighborhood bus stop precisely at 8:25. It takes me, an average adult female of average height, weight, and physical fitness, about two minutes to walk to the bus stop at a relaxed, conversational pace.

It takes me, an average adult female who has three children, ages 2 to 8, all of average height, weight, and good physical fitness but with varying levels of motivation, mood, and grit, about seven minutes to walk to the same bus stop when all three children are with me. Eight minutes if the toddler wears Crocs®.

Add a rambunctious golden retriever puppy who loves biting the leash handle or owner, and it takes about nine minutes to reach the neighborhood bus stop. That’s if you’re hustling.

At 8:15 on this particular Monday morning, we’re already late.

As I’m shoving chubby toddler feet into Crocs, stuffing lunchboxes into backpacks, and continually getting nipped in the butt by the puppy, I hear the dreaded words.

“Mum, oh no, I forgot! It’s Wear Orange Day!”

Because of course it is.

I break out into a cold sweat. For the next 2.5 seconds, my mind races through a furious internal debate.

“Did I see the email about ‘Wear Orange Day?’ Who the heck picked orange? God, I hate the PTO. Do we have anything orange that’s clean? Do I care if it’s clean? Screw the PTO! I hate Spirit Days! Ugh, but they can’t be the only kids not wearing orange. Why don’t I have my act together more? No, screw that! No orange! These kids need to learn to give me more heads up! ARGH OK FINE I’ll go look for something orange!”

I shove the puppy out the door (one toddler Croc in her mouth), plop the one Croc’d toddler on the ground, and mutter some inaudible phrases as I streak upstairs and rifle through closets and drawers in search of orange T-shirts. It’s 8:16.

My search is somewhat successful. I find only one clean orange T-shirt, buried in the back of the closet and leftover from a field day (apparently our school really likes orange), but I also manage to scrounge up an orange hairbow.

After a second internal debate about who is more likely to give me a hard time on the bow, I head downstairs, feeling both annoyed and victorious.

My two school-age kids look at me with suspicion, not impressed by either the t-shirt or the bow. They’re not cool enough, apparently. The toddler is nowhere to be seen. The puppy is happily chewing her stolen Croc in the backyard.

Look. Wear it or don’t. I don’t care. We’re running so late WE’RE GOING TO MISS THE BUS.

Thirty seconds of crying, whining, and “MOMMMMMMM” follows. The time now is 8:17. I tuck the bow into my own hair for safekeeping and then chase after the toddler while simultaneously shuffling my first grader out the door.

My third grader proceeds to whine for 20 more seconds, then finally shouts out a big OKAY-AAAA and quickly changes into the orange T-shirt.

She jogs to catch up with us, pouting and glaring insolently at the state of her dumb orange T-shirt as we hustle down the driveway at 8:18. The puppy is biting my hand and trying to play tug-of-war, the toddler has one shoe on and is being carried like a sack of potatoes over my shoulder, and the first grader has chosen this moment to ask me how fish breathe underwater.

By some miracle, we manage to turn on the gas and get to the bus stop by 8:25, the last family to arrive, as usual. While I explain the finer points of gills and oxygenation, I drop the baby to the ground, where he immediately starts crying about losing a shoe. The third grader grimaces at all the adults who comment on her cool orange shirt, and the puppy immediately knocks over another bus stop kid in a moment of excitement.

Thankfully, the big yellow bus arrives and distracts everyone. My toddler waves to the bus driver, forgetting his one-shoed predicament. I quickly kiss my kids and herd them toward the door while apologizing profusely for the dog’s antics.

A sea of orange-clad children, whose mothers are better prepared, look down at me from the bus windows. They’re watching the playful pup, but I imagine they’re judging me for my lack of clean laundry and inability to keep up with spirit days.

I sigh goodbye to the other parents and begin the long, slow climb up the hill toward home. The trip back takes much longer because the toddler insists on walking with just one Croc, and the puppy has discovered the fun of chasing leaves.

Once home, I leave the dog with a bone and turn on Paw Patrol for the toddler so I can jump on a quick client Zoom call. After 30 minutes of strategizing for my next project, the rest of the day is mine to recover from the morning and play with my youngest.

While waiting for the meeting to start, I scan my email. The offending “wear orange for school spirit day” notice was sent on Sunday evening at 8:18 pm.

But… It’s not just school spirit day — it’s school spirit WEEK. The first of many for the year, I fear.

Hey parents! As we celebrate being back-to-school, let’s all get in the SPIRIT and celebrate our school community’s commitment to kindness! Starting tomorrow, we’ll kick off a series of spirit weeks with our first theme — FRIENDSHIP! Dress accordingly! Please also find a Sign-Up Genius Link and PTO Venmo info at the bottom of this email… we hope you’ll consider donating your time or money to make this week EXTRA special for the kids!

Monday — “Orange you glad we’re friends?”

Tuesday — “Friendship is sweet, dress like a dessert!”

Wednesday — “Our class is out of this world! Dress like your favorite astronaut or planet!”

Thursday — “Our school is a beautiful rainbow” (Each grade has its own color, and of course, third grade is ORANGE).

Friday — “Friendship is forever, dress like your favorite decade!”

As Rider and the pups cheer in the background, I quietly bang my head on the kitchen table and set a reminder to buy a new orange T-shirt on Amazon later that day. I think about the 80s when I was in school, and laugh myself silly about what my mom would say if she read this email.

It’s only when I turn on the camera and say hello to my client that I notice the ridiculous orange bow still perched haphazardly on the side of my head.

Gotta love school spirit days.