A school formal booze ban won’t stop pre-loaders (and that’s just the parents)

At my son’s year 12 graduation dinner back in 2017, I was seated with him, my ex-husband and a group of parents I’d never met. It was a long, awkward evening of making polite conversation, avoiding eye contact with my ex, and glancing repeatedly at my watch wishing both hands would accelerate.

I recalled that evening when I read of the new rules for Sydney’s Catholic archdiocese, banning students from bringing dates to their year 12 formals and – more alarmingly – banning alcohol for parents at all school functions. These include graduation dinners, year 12 formals and end-of-school celebrations for year 6.

An A+ in 3-unit sobriety.Credit: Getty Images/iStockphoto

I’m not a big drinker but if there was ever a need for alcohol it’s at year 12 graduation dinners, particularly for us divorced parents who want to be there for the kids we made together but would rather see when apart. There was wine on the table at my son’s graduation, and that wine helped me get through the night.

I don’t believe in a ban on alcohol for parents, at graduation dinners, or at formals, although I’m not sure why parents would even be at a formal in the first place. Formals are celebrations for the kids, who get to dress up and party after the horrors of the HSC (a torment I still dream about, nearly 40 years later). We parents are rightly invited to the “pre’s” – a gathering generally at the home of one of the braver parents, in which we can check out the kids, marvel at how they’ve grown, and mutter about time moving fast.

Pre’s are a celebration among grown-up parents and almost-grown-up kids. Alcohol isn’t mandatory, but like most big celebrations it’s perfectly appropriate when consumed responsibly. Pre’s are a cocktail party, and cocktail parties don’t make much sense without cocktails. You stand around, making small talk with other parents about how beautiful/handsome/stylish/all-grown-up their kids look, hoping you’ve matched the right kid to parent (not easy, given the physical transformations), all while trying to recover from your own child’s last-minute panic over bow ties and boutonnieres.

A glass or two of bubbly really helps.

Now, I understand that we Australians have a problematic drinking culture. It is, of course, perfectly possible to enjoy a celebration without alcohol. Parents should not drink to excess at pre’s, or at any other school function and, in my experience, they do not. And, of course, no one is suggesting we drink at school assemblies or plays (though if you were at my kid’s notorious three-hour end-of-year speech night of 2016, you may, in fact, feel differently).

Still, to ban alcohol entirely seems excessively controlling and pointless. To an 18-year-old, it shouts: “You may be an adult, but you’re not yet capable of making decisions.” Frankly, if individual parents can’t be trusted not to get drunk at a school event, then the poor children of said parents have far greater problems than can be solved by an alcohol ban.

Besides, no alcohol ban has ever worked to keep alcohol out of an event. When you ban alcohol from kids’ parties, the kids turn up pre-loaded. If you ban alcohol from graduation dinners, some parents will pre-load at home. And while I’ve never brought a hip flask to a school assembly, I’ve certainly seen one there.

In addition to banning alcohol, the Catholic archdiocese has banned “external partners” from formals. I understand the insularity of private schools; we can be a little wary of outsiders. (“Whose party are you going to?” I ask my teen. “Is it a kid from your school?”)

And yet, our kids will graduate into the real world, in which most people they meet will not hail from their high school. Part of becoming a functioning adult is to participate in the wider community, and be comfortable with its glorious diversity. We are not doing our kids any favours by keeping them in a bubble, and discouraging relationships with kids outside the school.

(And if the ban is a subtle attempt to discourage same-sex partners, I hate to break it to you, but it’s not going to work. My middle child donned a tux at her private school formal, and took a female classmate as her partner. The call of same-sex pairings can come from inside the house!)

Of course, schools are entitled to impose ethical standards, on the students, and even on their caregivers. But by graduation, the job of the school should really be done. It’s time to loosen the reins, on the kids and their parents. It’s time to raise a glass, and say farewell.

Kerri Sackville is an author, columnist and mother of three. She is the author of The Secret Life of You: How a bit of alone time can change your life, relationships and maybe the world.