he growing trend in B.C. education appears to be fund raising. Not the spring-bake-sale
T and hot-dog-days sort of money makers, but the kind that makes your piggy bank
quiver.

Recently a West Vancouver secondary schoo! raised $50,000, tapping only four chequebook-
happy donors. Really, it’s true. And this is just the beginning. The school has a major fund-
raising campaign underway, headed by a professional director of development.

This director offers invitations to join "The Principal's Council" for donations of $5,000 (and
up). Hard to believe, isn’t it? Donors get a brass plaque, too. Myself, I can’t see how this could
possibly work. Principals have come a long way since I was a kid, but many adults do not have
fond memories of the principal’s office. The principal’s office used to be the final stop for young
delinquents travelling the road to juvenile hell. Perhaps the idea should be reversed.

In my childhood, back when dinosaurs roamed the earth, bake sales were the big thing. My
mom whipped up a batch of chocolate cupcakes, which sold for a dime each on the food table in

the gym. A brisk Saturday afternoon of flogging baked
goods might have brought in $100, not a bad profit in
those days, I think. Maybe it was enough to build an

The Way I See It cast wing or a ewimming pool. What do 1 know, I was

Another great fund raiser was the annual bazaar.
Actually we called it a "rummage sale” then, a title
which smacks of old clothes and useless junk. The word
"bazaar" has a more exotic ring, describing a better
class of useless junk. Anyway, we would cart our worn
books, used-up toys and incomplete puzzles to school,
where tireless moms would sort and price each item.
This process took at least two days of hard labour. On
Saturday, we would eagerly arrive at the sale, where
we could see all our friends and eventually go home
with someone else’s worn books, used-up toys and in-
complete puzzles. It was a remarkable system of ex-
changing goods, which probably raised about $100.
Today that amount wouldn't even buy floor wax.
Yet school fund raisers haven’t changed all that much.
Dads are more involved now. But while students are
by Stephanie Wiebe peddling chocolates, cookies or magazine subscriptions
between the fun fairs and bazaars, we’re still into
"penny-ante” stuff compared to the pros.

Just imagine some slick West Van professional
being tossed into our small town school fund-raising efforts. "Oh, what a lovely cake for our
bake table, Mrs. Wiebe. We oughta get $450 for that. What? Only two dollars for those
brownies? Why, where I come from, they'd be a steal at three hundred.

"Have a look at our ’white elephant’ table. There’s a slightly used toilet brush, a vintage
Expo 86 velcro wallet, and one ratty purple glove. Whaddya say, Mrs. Wiebe, a couple of thou
for the lot of em? Oh, the ratty purple glove belongs to you? Sorry.

"Tell me, Mrs. Wiebe, why buy a raffle ticket for fifty cents, when you can have one of our
shiny brass-plated plaques for only $5,000? What are you doing? Mrs. Wiebe, please put down
the meringue pie. No, don’t throw the — aaargh!"

Between "schooling for dollars" and donation solicitation, a professional fund raising
director might even provide educational opportunities for the students. "All right, class, if Mr.
Fatbucks has raised $67,000 for our school, and his commission is 20%, how much money has
Mr. Fatbucks made, minus the cost of brass-plated plaques? Using the laws of income
averaging, can anyone figure out Mr. Fatbucks’ tax bracket?"

"I can, teacher, I can! But why can’t we just ask Mr. Fatbucks?"

"Because we can’t afford his consultation fee."

Now there’s an education money can’t buy.

Terrace Review — March 6, 1992