There is nothing worse than scrolling through the school WhatsApp group when all the class parents are having an epic meltdown over some teacher-related issue – and then finding yourself in the firing line when you get involved.
It’s bad enough when it’s just relentless messaging about “Has anybody got the homework?” or “Did anybody take Fleur’s Mini Rodini animal print jacket by mistake. She left it on her peg. It’s rather expensive. Argh!!”.
It never stops – even over the Easter holidays. But when a real crisis kicks off about a mean teacher scrunching up all of class four’s artwork, or the headteacher driving out the wonderful music teacher, it’s explosive.
Parent WhatsApp groups are so out of control that now schools are reportedly asking lawyers to draw up codes of conduct to help manage them.
It comes after a Times Radio producer, Maxie Allen, and his partner, Rosalind Levine, were arrested on suspicion of harassment and malicious communications after complaining on WhatsApp chats about the teacher recruitment process at their daughter’s UK primary school.
CCTV footage shows six police officers leading them away like they are mafia kingpins in front of their crying daughter. They were detained in a police cell for 11 hours, but after a five-week investigation, Hertfordshire Constabulary concluded there was no case to answer.
It’s an extreme scenario – but maybe the dangers of the class WhatsApp finally need to be taken more seriously.
The concern for schools is that they could be found liable if parent WhatsApp groups are used to spread misinformation or racist and homophobic abuse about teachers. Under the new Employment Rights Bill, teachers could sue their employer if they receive abuse in parent WhatsApp group.
But what this bill fails to tackle is the abuse parents like me have suffered at the hands of the same group chats – just like the poor teachers do.
I’ve been bullied on the class WhatsApp – the parents are even worse than the kids. Unless I switch it on silent or delete the app, it takes out half my day – and potentially triggers anxiety (before I’ve suffered a character assassination).
The worst episode for me was when I was singled out by the head of the PTA and shamed on the class group class chat for not pulling my weight at a charity fun run.
The tension started after we’d raised more than £60,000 for the school over the year but then heard that music and French lessons, as well as forest school, would still be scrapped to save money at my daughters’ state primary.
Parents were sharing their mixed views about it for about three hours before I jumped into the heated debate.
Some were rightly asking why we couldn’t use some of this money to fund these extra creative subjects – when a dictator-like parent told us that we couldn’t have any say about how the money we raised was spent and it was used to fund core subjects.
I questioned the logic. “This is a state primary school so surely that gets delivered no matter what?” I said. “I thought the money raised was to add on top of what the state provides.” Then I thanked all the parents who were “fighting to allow our kids to do music, French and forest school”.
I might not have understood the red tape. But I didn’t mean to offend anybody. I was slapped down instantly and told that if I felt so passionate about charity fundraising for the school, perhaps I could consider helping out – and actually get involved in it? The rest of the parents remained silent. I was stunned like a rabbit in the headlights.
Another parent did a mini-lecture on how more of us parents could help out – “even dads!”. Yes her husband had carried a table for the raffle at the fun run! It might not sound glamourous to all the parents but every little job counts to support our children’s futures.
I felt like a child being told off – and rang my mum friend in floods of tears. I’d already sent a message on the parent WhatsApp making it clear that I did donate money, but as my father was sadly critically ill and I was his carer, I was unable to do more at that present moment. I switched the class WhatsApp on silent for about two months.
At the school gates, I was embraced by the parents on my side – and sidelined by the rest. I tried to ignore it all and just get on with the school drop off / pick up as best I could without any drama.
Luckily, it was the end of term, so the long summer break gave us all some distance. I’ve never recovered from it – and I still don’t speak to the parents involved in my take-down.
I’ve had other major mishaps, such as when my daughter accidentally used the scribble tool on WhatsApp to deface a mum’s photo of her daughter sent on the class group chat at Christmas.
“Why would somebody do something like this? “ the outraged mum messaged the whole parent group, as if I had intentionally destroyed a festive shot. As it was Christmas Eve, I hadn’t been checking the class messages when it flared up into a mass debate. My silence made it worse. They all waited for my explanation.
It’s not just the class WhatsApp: I have fallen out with all of my half-siblings over a family group chat called “What we are going to do with dad”. Any large group chat brings out the worst of humanity – but believe me, none more so than privileged parent WhatsApps.
OK, they are handy at certain times – for remembering to make a hat for the Easter bonnet parade, for example – but most of the time it’s toxic. I wholeheartedly sympathise with the teachers being gossiped about; it can feel like a witch hunt.
I’ve made the fatal mistake of not scrolling back through hundreds of messages that morning to spot I should be welcoming a new parent to the class WhatsApp. Then when a few hours later I innocently ask “Is the school trip tomorrow?”, I’m ignored, and the “Welcome Katy’s mum!” message is re-posted in a passive-aggressive way directly under my unrelated message.
I may not be the most forthcoming helper at the school, as I’m a single working mum of two kids – and I just can’t stretch myself to the limits. Maybe the truth is, I should be doing more for the class.
But I don’t need it to be rubbed in – and bullied by parents who have taken it upon themselves to throw themselves into WhatsApp chats like it’s the US presidential elections. One mum, who I really like, has given up her job to dedicate herself to WhatsApp – she is the oracle. I am hugely grateful to her, as without her the class would fall apart.
But we are all different – and the parent WhatsApp should not be a place to name and shame others. Rather than police the class group chat, schools should ban them. They are insufferable at the best of times – and it’s time we ended their reign.
