Parents: the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

As a teacher, your relationship with parents can make or break your year. My school does a fantastic job at getting teachers to build rapport with them before the year even starts, and encourages us to send home positive notes before any negative ones. (I grew up in a culture where children were not constantly praised or rewarded; they were simply expected to behave and get good grades and if you did, it was nothing extraordinary. If you didn't... Anyway, my point is that giving praise and positive feedback is something I'm still working on.) There are all kinds of parents we deal with. Parents who aren't present and parents who are overly present. Parents who believe their child wears a halo, parents who cry "BULLYING!" any time their child complains about another student, and parents who could not care less how their child is doing in school. Then there the parents who just too much, and who some might call crazy, but which really are just a combination of all of the above. It seems like in the last few weeks, I've interacted with almost all of these types and I'm starting to feel some type of way about it all. Let me start with this morning...

Each week, we send out a grade-level newsletter where, along with other important notes and reminders, we put our learning objectives for the week. We then bold the ones that will be tested, so really, if you're reading the entire thing...a test should be no surprise. I also told students about this test last week, and they were instructed to write it in their planners so they could study for it. I even gave them a study guide! I'm too nice. Despite all of this, I was confronted by an upset mother who had never heard about this test and wanted to know why there wasn't a reminder email or text about it. Um...seriously? She says her daughter didn't bring home any homework, and she called 3 other parents whose children also had not been studying for this test despite knowing it was coming. Okay, so your kid didn't tell you they had a test. How is this my fault? Well, if 3 whole children out of 87 also didn't tell their parents, then there must be something wrong with what the teacher did. or maybe you need to talk to your kid about following directions when they are told to fill out the planner that you supposedly check every night. 

The few days prior to this, a parent attempted to wander into my classroom mid-lesson. I've had parents do this several times to deliver lunches, to deliver a change of clothes for a spirit day, or to drop off homework. Okay, cool..you're being nice and delivering something your kid forgot. But if you keep doing that, you are teaching them two very dangerous things:
1) it's okay to be irresponsible and forgetful, because mommy will always save the day
2) whatever issue you are currently having is more important than the learning and productivity of everyone else and is worth disrupting class for.
Honestly, when did it become okay to just barge into a classroom while students are learning?

Last week there was a Friday the 13th. It really was a scary day. Our entire wing had an explosion of behavior and discipline issues, hyper kids, and a general lack of productivity. When an incident occurred between several students and parents had to be contacted, I was confronted by angry parents who wanted to know why their child had been given a consequence when the other student was the one who started it. They wanted to know what was being done about the student who had made the inappropriate remark. They wanted to tell me that they would not allow their child to be around that type of behavior....and this is where it gets sticky. Because as a teacher, you can't discuss other students besides the one that is legally the responsibility of the parent you are speaking to. Often times, in emails or phone calls, we don't even provide the gender of the other student involved. So when I am repeatedly asked what is being done about "that" student...I just about burst at the seams. Because there is so much that I cannot tell you that I wish I could, because it would make my job so much easier. I'm reminded of an open letter penned by a fellow teacher that brought me to tears and re-reading it tonight, evokes the same response. Here's a snippet that most teachers can relate to:

You're worried that THAT child is detracting from your child's learning experience. You're worried that he takes up too much of my time and energy, and that your child won't get his fair share. You're worried that she is really going to hurt someone some day. You're worried that “someone" might be your child. You're worried that your child is going to start using aggression to get what she wants. You're worried your child is going to fall behind academically because I might not notice that he is struggling to hold a pencil. I know.
I know, and I am worried, too.

You see, I worry all the time. About ALL of them. I worry about your child's pencil grip, and another child's letter sounds, and that little tiny one's shyness, and that other one's chronically empty lunchbox. I worry that Gavin's coat is not warm enough, and that Talitha's dad yells at her for printing the letter B backwards. Most of my car rides and showers are consumed with the worrying.

Maybe that's what it is. I worry. We all do. We worry about the kids who are constantly in trouble and we worry about the ones we never hear from in class. We worry about the ones who are absent nearly every week and we worry about the ones who are here physically but can't stay awake or focus. I'm not a parent, but sometimes I feel like one with all the worrying and redirecting and molding of character that we do. I don't mind; it's part of the job and if I wasn't worrying then I don't think I'd be much of a teacher. 

But through these last few weeks and all of these interactions with parents, there is one thought that sticks with me. It's not so eloquent, and it's not a feel-good warm-and-fuzzy, it's just reality for a lot of us out in the field: teaching would be 10x easier if parents would just parent. Stop being scared of your child and make them (just a little bit) scared of you. When the doctor says they have ADHD, don't be shocked when they keep getting into trouble because you won't medicate them anymore. When your child's teacher tells you your child got into a fight, don't ask what the other kid did to provoke them-- teach them that violence is not an appropriate response, ever. When they forget their backpack at home, let them cry and miss recess and deal with the consequences of irresponsible behavior. Let them fall. Let them cry. Let them learn. Jennifer Senior of NY Magazine sums up the problem nicely:

"Kids ought to be valued; their lives ought to be deemed precious. Ever since we banned child labor in the United States we have come to view children as “economically worthless but emotionally priceless,” in the words of one of my favorite sociologists, Viviana Zelizer. But extending equal protection to kids and assigning them the value they deserve is one thing; swaddling them in bubble wrap is quite another. It has led not just to a culture of irrationality around safety issues, but of moral high-handedness and gratuitous censure among parents themselves."

One of the most challenging parts of teaching is the parents. If I had to put a number to it, I'd say it's definitely top 3. This year, having parents who are responsive, friendly, and involved is something that I'm still getting used to. I am forever grateful to the superheroes who stuff my Monday Mailers, grade my spelling tests, make copies for our team and cut and laminate things so I can focus on the most important part of my job: the students. These last 3 months have been an eye-opener to the wonderful world of task delegation and I can happily say that several days often pass without my setting foot in front of a copy machine. I have a parent who volunteers to help supervise the students at lunch and brought me a box of forks when she noticed my kids kept forgetting utensils... I'm sure it seemed minuscule, but I wanted to hug her for her thoughtfulness. These are the parents that keep me going. Today, right now, I just wish there were more of them.