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 keeping them in at playtime, or another teacher quitting, 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 may be able to sue their employer if they receive abuse in a 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 often felt bullied in the class WhatsApp – the parents can be even worse than the kids. Unless I switch it on silent or delete the app, it takes out half my day – and has the potential to trigger anxiety (before I’ve suffered what can feel like a character assassination).
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 chastised by other parents who have taken it upon themselves to throw themselves into WhatsApp chats like it’s the US presidential elections.
I do not appreciate being put on a WhatsApp hit list of parents who do nothing – and shunned at the school gate. Sorry, I didn’t manage to get a Fortnum & Mason hamper for the teacher’s end of year present, or bag the school a major sponsorship deal for the fun run.
But I don’t deserve all the WhatsApp mini-lectures on how more of us parents could help out – “even dads!”. Yes, we all know who we are!
Sometimes the class WhatsApp goes wild for three hours before dying down in a phenomenon known as “swarming”. If you happen to jump into the heated debate, as I’ve done, at an emotionally heightened moment, you can get heckled and shouted down loudly like you’ve been plonked in Prime Minister’s Question Time.
I’ve had secret talks with other mums in the local coffee shop who’ve been hapless victims of the class WhatsApp to work out other class parents’ agendas. Is all the finger-pointing to make themselves look perfect? Is it about getting in the headteacher’s good books?
After one epic WhatsApp takedown, I switched the class WhatsApp to silent for about two months for my sanity.
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 have one simple rule: Do not get involved in any major discussions such as what’s being taught in sex education classes.
I’ve had other major mishaps, such as when my daughter accidentally used the scribble tool on WhatsApp to deface a photo sent on the class group chat at Christmas.
“Why would somebody do something like this?” an upset parent messaged the whole group. As it was Christmas Eve, I hadn’t been checking the class messages when it flared up into a mass debate. My silence probably made it worse. They all seemed to be waiting for my explanation.
It’s not just the class WhatsApp: I have fallen out with my half-siblings over a family group chat called “What we are going to do with dad”. Any large group chat seems to brings out the worst of humanity – but I believe none more so than parent WhatsApps.
OK, they are handy at certain times – for remembering it’s World Book Day, for example – but most of the time they feel 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 that 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.
For some parents, the class WhatsApp is a full-time job. 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.
