On a recent Saturday night in Union Square, Claire Lilienthal Elementary’s PTA hosted its 33rd annual Starlight Gala at the Westin St. Francis, complete with a cocktail reception and three-course dinner. For the right price, parents could bid on a vineyard tour in Napa, 49ers tickets, or weekend getaways at the coastal vacation homes of students’ families.  

A week later in Stonestown, a DeLorean idled in front of Donworth Hall while parents from Dianne Feinstein Elementary filed into an ’80s-themed auction. Inside, bidding paddles flew for the crown jewel: “Principal for a day” for $2,500, sold to the parents of three lucky students.

Across town, George Peabody Elementary threw a ’70s glam-rock bash at the Presidio Golf Course. There was a drag performance and strobe lights bouncing off sequined party attire. Each table had a QR code and instructions: Text “BIDNOW” when the auction begins. Up for grabs? A private 12-person dinner at Noodle in a Haystack, one of the hardest reservations in the city.

Let’s be clear: These are not bake sales.

Welcome to gala season for San Francisco public schools — a springtime circuit of elaborate themed parties, silent luxury auctions, and open bars where parents shell out thousands to cover what the cash-strapped school district doesn’t.

San Francisco is home to some of California’s top fundraising public schools. In the last five years, parent groups across the San Francisco Unified School District have raised more than $48 million, the majority going to elementary schools. The result: smaller class sizes and better educational opportunities, depending on how much a community can raise. 

The school that draws the most donations, Claire Lilienthal, raised more than $1 million in 2022-23 — 16% of its annual budget. George Peabody raised nearly $2,000 per child, enough to fund six additional staff members.  

A San Francisco Public Press investigation found that in 2011, PTA spending across the district topped $5 million. Just over a decade later, it’s more than double, far outpacing inflation. 

But this year, something shifted. Behind the sequins and champagne is a school district facing a $113 million budget shortfall as well as pressure from state overseers for more transparency and stability. So it came as a surprise to parents when rumors began swirling that the district was planning to restrict how PTAs use the money they raise.

The new rules apply to “site-level discretionary funds” — money from PTAs and grants tied to specific schools. It’s a policy that will affect schools across the socioeconomic spectrum but will strip more dollars from those with the most parent funds. Extra classroom teachers, librarians, and PE specialists will be off the table, even if a PTA can afford to pay their salaries.

The outcry among parents was immediate. “Schools should be able to use their PTA funds to support their sites,” said Debbie Kim, parent of a Claire Lilienthal student. Otherwise, she said, “people will leave and go to private.” She’s seen other parents’ cars in the parking lot and is confident they could afford it. 

It’s an existential threat at a time when the district is already suffering from falling enrollment. SFUSD has lost 4,000 students over seven years. With school funding tied to enrollment, this means $80 million less for the district budget. Now, as the gala season winds down, the question echoing through school communities isn’t how much the PTA raised — but what the future of public education looks like in San Francisco.

PTAs weren’t always fundraising machines.

The first PTAs were founded in San Francisco over 100 years ago to focus on advocacy, parent engagement, and community-building.

In 1978, California voters passed Proposition 13, capping property taxes and dramatically slashing local funding for public education. San Francisco, a county with high property values, was hit especially hard. Within a year, the district’s budget plummeted, forcing layoffs, swelling class sizes, and wiping out music and arts programs. PTAs responded by raising funds to preserve the programs they valued most. 

Today, there are 82 parent groups supporting San Francisco’s 102 public schools, not including charter, county-run, and preschool sites. Most are formal PTAs or PTSAs, affiliated with the national association, but about two dozen operate independently. All are registered 501(c)(3) organizations run entirely by parent volunteers, with legal obligations to report revenue and spending to state and federal regulators.

The majority of school funding in California comes from the state, using a formula built on equity — in theory. The state doles out a lump sum to each district, with more money going to those with higher needs. Then SFUSD uses its own formula to divide state funds among schools, without consideration for PTA fundraising. 

The financial advantage provided by parent fundraising is largely invisible in official district budgets.

SFUSD accounts for PTA money only when it’s used to fund salaries. In the 2021-22 school year, $3.6 million showed up in the district budget. But PTAs across the city raised $11.4 million in revenue. 

“Just like in public financing of political campaigns, there’s the visible public money,” said Debby Lu, an education consultant and parent of an SFUSD student. “And then you’ve got dark money you can’t really trace.”

A review of nonprofit financial records filed with the IRS and California attorney general over the past five years reveals just how large — and uneven — parent fundraising has become.

At the start of the last school year, 82 nonprofit groups across the city reported more than $22 million in total net assets. If divided evenly, that would add more than $200,000 to each school’s budget — enough to hire nearly three full-time credentialed K–12 teachers per school.

But the money is not divided evenly. The distribution of parent-led funds across public schools mirrors the city’s expanding wealth gap.

In the 2022-23 school year, half of San Francisco’s public schools raised a combined $11 million. The other half raised just $352,000.

The Standard’s analysis of fundraising data shows the more white students enrolled at a school, the more money it raised. More funding is associated with better test scores. Elementaries in the Bayview haven’t raised a single dollar in the past five years. Elementaries in the Marina raised more than $5.2 million in the same period.

The disparity isn’t new, but it has intensified. Each year, 40 public schools raise more than $100,000. Around 30 raise nothing.

“What’s your school’s PTA budget?”

Jennifer Wofford was caught off guard the first time she heard the question in the summer of 2018. She was trying to find the right elementary school for her oldest daughter — a daunting task in San Francisco, where families navigate a complex lottery process.

Over time, an entire service industry has emerged to usher parents through the maze. Consultants advise families on what to look for and what to ask about the PTA: How active is it? How much money does it raise?

The Chinese Immersion School at De Avila, known as CIS, checked all of Wofford’s boxes. Bilingual education was appealing, the school was within walking distance from home, and the parents leading the tour were warm and engaged. She listed CIS as the family’s first choice, and her daughter got in.

Wofford quickly realized the PTA budget question was a proxy. “What it means is, do you have good programming for your kids? Do you have extra things for your kids?” she said. “Or not?”

Now, with her eldest in middle school and youngest a CIS third grader, Wofford has risen to president of the school’s PTA. She oversees one of the city’s top parent fundraising operations. Last year, the nonprofit spent half a million. Over the last five years, it raised more than $1.7 million.

The money pays for a recess monitor, a librarian, substitute teachers, a gardening program, arts and music classes, and a literacy specialist. But the bulk of the funds goes to reducing class sizes by hiring additional teachers.

In San Francisco, third grades and below have a limit of 22 students per class, while fourth and fifth grades can have up to 33. But if the PTA writes a big enough check to the district in the spring, extra teachers will show up in the fall, and classes will remain small. At CIS, PTA funds pay for two.

The spring event circuit is when the CIS PTA generally raises half its operating budget for the fall. Leading up to the CIS gala, Wofford was spiraling over the district’s new spending rules. Would parents no longer feel so generous if they couldn’t buy the same public education as before?

“It just feels like we’re being punished for trying to make our schools better,” she said. “They want to control how we spend our money. But they also want our money to run the schools. It’s a very one-sided relationship.”

One Friday afternoon in early March, a handful of parents and staff squeezed into a small room just off the front office at Guadalupe Elementary in the Excelsior. The PTA, long accustomed to raising just a few thousand dollars here and there, was preparing to launch its biggest campaign yet: $30,000 to build a soccer field. Outside the office, a sign still listed the school’s original fundraising goal: $2,000.

“The PTA is strong in the sense where the parents have the will and the heart for the school,” said Guadalupe PTA President Marlyn Herrera. But she knew $30,000 would be a reach. “We don’t have the resources. Some parents don’t have $500 to give. They’re focused on food, rent, day care.”

Guadalupe is a Title I school, relying on federal funding to support its low-income population. Nearly three-quarters of its students are socioeconomically disadvantaged, and more than 60% are English learners. Guadalupe received a one-time Community Schools Partnership Program grant from the state; any other “extras” come not from a PTA but through the public education crowdfunding platform DonorsChoose.

Principal Raj Sharma arrived at the school last year from Sunset Elementary, where the PTA raises more than $200,000 per year. He was concerned about Guadalupe’s chronic absenteeism and wanted to find a way to engage families. He found it on his first day. “In our community, soccer is culture,” he said.

Sharma organized a league with nearby elementary schools. The effect was immediate: Attendance rose, the sense of belonging improved, and parents started showing up. PTA membership grew from a handful to more than 20.

Out in the yard, a group of students scrimmaged on the blacktop — dribbling and passing with ease, following tips from their volunteer coach. Guadalupe is undefeated, 4-0 in the league. 

The kids played like they were on grass, but the hard ground beneath them was uneven and unforgiving. They see a lot of injuries, Sharma said.

He secured a $10,000 grant from the San Francisco Literacy Coalition to install turf, but it expires in June unless the PTA can reach its $30,000 goal. So far, it has raised $1,955.

After news broke that site-level funds would be restricted next year, chatter exploded in parent group chats across the city. 

District officials say the change is intended to address staffing inequities amid a national teacher shortage — ensuring that every school has core classroom teachers before wealthier schools use private funds to hire extras.

Unlike some other districts with wide wealth gaps — such as those in Portland, Ore., where a portion of PTA funds over a certain threshold is pooled and redistributed, and Palo Alto, where parent fundraising is centralized through a single district-wide foundation — SFUSD has historically taken a hands-off approach. The new strategy marks one of its first major attempts to rein in how PTA dollars are used.

State PTA guidelines strongly encourage that donations stay at the school site where they were raised. But there are workarounds. A peer-to-peer fundraising program founded by an equity-minded parent allowed wealthier PTAs to partner with less-resourced schools. 

But the program remains obscure, with only three partnerships since it launched in 2020. It’s tucked away on the SFUSD website, rarely advertised.

Wofford learned of the program from friends and immediately brought CIS on board. In 2023, CIS raised more than $14,000 for playground equipment at Redding Elementary. 

“I feel like our school has an embarrassment of riches compared to other schools,” she said. But she doesn’t see the logic in restricting how they spend.

“If the debate right now is whether or not to take away class size reduction for some of the richer schools, in the spirit of equity — I agree with that,” she said. “But there’s no mention of raising up the other schools.”

Wofford and PTA leaders from more than a dozen schools began organizing over email chains, eventually calling themselves the PTA Coalition. Parents from CIS circulated a petition calling the new policy “nonsensical.”

Their frustrations came to a head at the March 11 school board meeting. Wofford and hundreds of other parents, students, and educators packed into 555 Franklin St. The crowd overflowed into the lobby and out into the courtyard.

During public comment, dozens of students — from elementary to high school — took to the podium to plead with the district to protect their beloved teachers, whose jobs were on the line.

Lily, a fourth grader at McKinley Elementary, begged the board not to lay off reading teacher Ms. Meara, whose position is funded by the PTA. “She pays attention to and understands each and every one of us,” Lily said. “How can she do that if you fire her?”

But most of the students were not there to defend parent-funded extras. They came from schools without PTA funding, but with grants that help bridge the wide wealth gap by funding site-specific staffers: the reading teacher at William L. Cobb Elementary; support staff at Mission Education Center; the college counselors at Mission High School.

“I’m asking how you plan on fixing what you’re about to break,” said Leah Corsi, a student at Mission High. “SFUSD students who can afford it will flock to private education or leave the city, leaving the less privileged at the bottom of the ladder.”

With the gala approaching, Wofford wasn’t sure what to expect. Fundraising had been touch and go. Tensions were high. She was nervous. Ever since the new site guidelines were announced, she’d spent hours each day thinking about or discussing her school’s finances.

“It’s been weeks of chaos,” she said.

But on the night of the event, parents showed up ready to party, dressed on theme: Denim and Diamonds. There were evening gowns made of denim and studded with rhinestones, and jean shirts blinged out with diamond necklaces — sartorial testaments to the city’s high and low. 

There was an open bar, dance battles, champagne toasts, elaborate centerpieces — and fundraising. A fast-talking auctioneer coaxed bids ever-higher with jokes and charm, pointing to parents’ outfits and calling them out: “I bet you can afford to bid $100 more.”

By the end of the night, the PTA raised $200,000, exceeding its goal. It’s money that can’t be used to hire extra teachers, but Wofford has accepted that. She and the other CIS parents “tried everything,” she said. “Now, our school is moving forward.”

In the coming weeks, she’ll sit down with the CIS principal and parents to decide how to use the funds within the new restrictions. But a worry lingers: If the cuts continue, will wealthier families leave public education altogether?

San Francisco already has the most private schools per capita of any county in the state, and the highest private school attendance — nearly a third of students. And their fundraising numbers put the biggest PTAs to shame. 

San Francisco Day School raised $5.2 million in 2023. The Chinese American International School raised $7.8 million. San Francisco Friends School — where Mayor Daniel Lurie and his wife, Becca, send their children and contribute — raises more than $6,000 per student. Private schools don’t rely on volunteer parents. They hire full-time development staff and bring in millions.

Is Wofford calling private school admissions offices?

“I don’t know,” she said. “No comment.”