OSAKA -- "When your child enrolls in school, you will automatically become a member."

Reading a pamphlet she received when her daughter started elementary school, Kana (a pseudonym), a part-time worker in her 40s living in Takarazuka, Hyogo Prefecture, was taken aback.

"Are we being forced to join?" she wondered. Without warning, she had been thrust into a PTA world in which she had never before set foot. She initially stood back, observing the activities, but ahead lay a moment when everything would change, driving her to the point where she never wanted to be involved in a parent-teacher association again.

Point system forces roles onto parents

Kana was first enlisted as a PTA member -- without being asked -- when her eldest daughter entered a public elementary school in 2018. The automatic membership made her uneasy, but she didn't know where to voice her concerns so she just left things as they were.

Upon reaching sixth grade, her daughter brought home a letter informing Kana, "You have been selected as a committee member."

"I don't remember submitting an authorization form. How could I be chosen?" she wondered, as her doubts about the unilateral process grew.

The school's PTA used a "point system" for selecting the PTA executive board and other committee members. Under the system, parents received points when their children enrolled, and the points were then deducted for performing PTA duties.

If not enough people stood for election to fill the committee spots each year, they were decided by lottery. The number of unused PTA points determined the number of lottery tickets, so the more points parents had left, the higher their chance of being selected.

The PTA claimed this system ensured fair distribution of responsibilities, with a selection committee managing the points. However, Kana found the system opaque, and remained unclear about how many points were expended for each role.

Even when committee members couldn't serve due to illness or other reasons, the committee went so far as to ask them to submit medical certificates to be exempted. Kana couldn't sweep away her doubts that this was "an invasion of privacy and a terrible system."

Like a 'penalty game'

When Kana attended a gathering for those who had been selected as committee members, she found a gloomy atmosphere hanging over the assembled parents. She could only see it as a "penalty game" for mothers who had been unlucky enough to be chosen.

Her role entailed planning and organizing parent-child events at school, but there was little information carried over from the previous school year -- the only resources being printouts that a predecessor had distributed and a notebook containing receipts.

"It was a vicious cycle where no one wanted to participate, so there were no careful handovers, and we were forced to grope our way forward with activities we didn't want to do," she recalled.

The members had been told they could just talk together and decide what they wanted to do, so she asked an executive board member if they could just decide to do nothing that year, but the board member warned that such an approach might prevent them from using up their points. Parents like her with younger children felt compelled to plan something. "It was as if our hands and feet were tied," she recalled with a frown.

Is PTA work free labor?

Despite this, Kana wanted to plan events that would make the children happy. But when she proposed an outdoor activity based on the children's desire to play outside, a teacher dismissed the idea, telling her, "We can't do it if it rains." She suggested using the gymnasium instead, only to be told, "No, it's too small," and faced repeated rejections.

Each time this happened they had to hold a meeting, and in the end, they had to go with a plan fully adhering to the school's proposal.

"Is the PTA just supposed to provide funds and labor silently?" Kana wondered as her sense of distrust escalated, and far from getting on with teachers, the relationship soured.

She had a younger son, then 3 years old, and couldn't bring him to meetings, so she had to pay for temporary child care or rely on friends to babysit him.

"I repeatedly had to visit the school, sacrificing my own daily life to do so, and the burden was too heavy," she said.

Her son was impulsive and showed signs of a developmental disorder. However, PTA activities consumed her time and even when she was home, she was distracted by constant communication with committee members and teachers through the Line app and phone calls. To her regret, all this delayed her realization that her son had special needs and getting him therapy. It also set back her own return to the workforce.

"I should have had the courage to refuse becoming a committee member, and quit when I realized the PTA's management was unacceptable to me. I don't ever want to get involved again if I can help it," she said with indignance.

Nonmembers also saddled with duties

Shiori, a company employee in her 30s whose son started at the same elementary school in 2023, went through a similar experience.

She harbored doubts about the automatic PTA membership mentioned during the enrollment briefing and, after examining the details, decided she couldn't manage the responsibilities due to her and her husband's busy work schedules. She submitted a self-prepared nonmembership form.

However, even after she withdrew, the PTA refused to remove her name from the list, citing concerns that nonmembership might cause distrust among other members and anxiety to her child. And nonmembers were still required to take part in daily safety watches for children's commutes to and from school. During these watches, parents hold flags at crossings every morning from 7:45 a.m. to sometime after 8 a.m., and conduct patrols for about 20 minutes after school. There were apparently checks to ensure the watches and patrols were being carried out properly, so they felt compulsory.

Because she couldn't make it to work in time in the morning when taking part, Shiori arranged to work from home on the days she was on watch duty, and took time off for the afternoon patrols. However, since she normally worked, her child remained in after-school care. "I patrolled at times of the day when my child wasn't even coming home. I wondered what I was doing," she said.

She heard that parents who couldn't work from home had to take a half day of paid leave just to take part in the patrols. And one couldn't attend their child's open class after running out of leave.

As for the flag duty, she said, "We have no authority to begin with, and when we raise the flags telling cars to stop, they only do so as a matter of goodwill. There's no guarantee we can protect the children."

She emphasized, "Community monitoring is ideal, but with more dual-income households and fewer children, the number of households is decreasing and the burden on those on duty is increasing. Authorities should prepare and designate safe school routes without parents having to watch over their children."

Adapting to the times

The school's PTA activities extended beyond school events, including serving food at local festivals and cleaning community facilities. "I understand some do it out of goodwill or a sense of mission, but forced participation isn't right. We have lives, too," Shiori stated.

Kana and Shiori voiced their concerns to a city councilor. The issue was brought up in the municipal assembly, and as a result, changes occurred at their children's school last year, including the introduction of PTA enrollment forms and the abolition of the point system.

"We didn't want to pass on an outdated PTA to our children's generation," said Kana with conviction.

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Those who have opinions or experiences to share about PTAs can reach our reporting crew via email at o.shakaibu@mainichi.co.jp or by postal mail to the Osaka Shakaibu PTA reporting team, the Mainichi Shimbun, Kita Ward, Osaka 530-8251.

(Japanese original by Yumi Shibamura, Osaka City News Department)