I've forked out £3,000 a year to help my son's primary school – but I'm fed up and already struggling to make ends meet

The Sun

04-06-2025

SINGLE mum Nilufer Atik, 48, a PR and writer from London, is at her wits' end over her nine-year-old son's school asking for money to cover the cost of trips, fundraisers and even books.
With half-term costs adding to her woes, she asks why has school become so expensive?
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WALKING through my front door after the morning school drop-off, I hear my phone ping.
I groan inwardly, knowing who the WhatsApp message is from before I've even glanced at the screen.
'Ice lolly sale outside the school gates at pick-up today. Please bring your spare change,' the text reads.
It's from the class rep at my son's school and it is the fourth money request I've received on the parents' WhatsApp group in the space of a week.
While I know it's not unusual for mums and dads to get together for the odd bake sale or fundraiser to pay for a school trip or a nice treat for the kids, the number of times I'm asked to donate to my nine-year-old son Jake's school is bordering on the ridiculous.
Just last month, a report from the Child Poverty Action Group and the Centre for Research in Social Policy revealed that it now costs more than £1,000 a year to send a child to state primary school in the UK.
That figure has gone up 16 per cent since 2022, when the cost was around £865.
For secondary school, it is even higher, at £2,275 a year.
In the past four weeks alone I've been asked to buy doughnuts at the gates, a brick to commemorate an anniversary and raffle tickets for a bingo night as well as make two voluntary donations for school trips to locations that are free.
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But most shocking of all was the request from the head teacher to pay for my son's reading books.
When I got the message, my jaw hit the floor.
Despite paying taxes that are meant to cover my little boy's primary state education, I'm now expected to fund all of his reading books which, once all the kids in class have finished reading them, remain at the school.
Jake doesn't even get to bring the books I've bought home.
It may sound like only a few pounds here and there, but it all adds up.
JAW HIT THE FLOOR
Over the past year, I reckon I've spent at least £500 forking out for extras on top of essentials like his uniform, lunches and wraparound care while I work two jobs to make ends meet.
This means I often flop into bed at 1am, exhausted.
But when you are a single parent with multiple bills and an extortionate rent to pay, not to mention new school clothes and shoes every few months, daily packed lunches and after-school clubs, there is no choice.
And frankly, I'm fed up of it.
It's not a recent thing, either. The Parent Teachers' Association has been putting on the pressure to pay out around £10 a week since Jake first started school aged four.
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That means I've handed over more than £3,000 so far — money I simply can't afford to shell out as a single parent on an average income.
Parents will have just forked out a fortune to get through the recent half-term break and when summer comes in a few weeks, I will have to cover the cost of holiday clubs at £40-£50 a day.
I know other single parents struggle with this too and, come September, when you have to pay out for new school uniforms, many of them will be broke, like me.
For some parents the extra costs are manageable.
I rent a small, two-bed flat in an affluent area where the majority of residents live in their own homes valued at over £1million.
Throwing the odd £20 note away is no big deal for them and probably makes them feel charitable but it's not the same for me.
Many of the mums don't work because their partners have top-paying jobs.
Throwing the odd £20 note away is no big deal for them and probably makes them feel charitable.
But it's not the same for me.
That money could cover a day's travel to the office or Jake's school snacks for a week — yes, I have to pay for those too.
The Child Poverty Action Group report stated that for parents of secondary school pupils, one of the drivers behind this rise in costs was having to supply materials and equipment for some of their subjects, as well as textbooks and stationery.
But I'm already having to do this now, so God knows how I'm going to manage when Jake is older — I can just about survive each month as it is.
Books should surely be a basic provision in any classroom, part of the school fixtures and fittings.
It makes me wonder what I'm actually paying my taxes for.
UNDER PRESSURE
Then there are the never-ending events to raise additional money — quiz nights, school fairs, discos, raffles and end-of-term gifts for the teachers who earn a lot more than I do.
The list is relentless and I feel constantly under pressure to hand over money I simply don't have.
While a lot of the time these 'donations' are listed as optional, nobody wants to be the parent who is too tight to pay for anything.
It makes me feel like the poor relative if everyone else in Jake's class has donated a fiver for a school trip and his mum is the only one who hasn't.
It's the same if he can't enjoy extra-curricular activities because I'm unable or unwilling to pay.
I don't want my son to feel different to his peers.
While none of the rich mums say anything, the snootiest ones don't acknowledge me or Jake at the school gates and never let their children play with him.
It makes me feel like the poor relative if everyone else in Jake's class has donated a fiver for a school trip and his mum is the only one who hasn't.
I can tell by the hushed silences sometimes as I approach that they talk about me behind my back.
I know it's not the school's fault.
Despite being in a well-to-do area, I'm told that the head increasingly struggles to make ends meet each term.
For this financial year, the Department of Education gives heads £8,210 per pupil to last the year.
FLEECING MUMS
This needs to cover all the essentials — staffing, equipment, maintenance and energy bills.
The only extras are if a child is Pupil Premium, meaning from a disadvantaged background, or they have an Education, Health and Social Care Plan.
There are a few extra pots of money they can apply for, but they are battling the cost-of-living crisis like the rest of us.
The Government needs to pull its finger out.
Tax money needs to properly fund our most vital services — like educating the next generation.
Fleecing hard-working mums and dads isn't fair and isn't going to plug the gap.