Meet the Parents

This week concludes the first of eight parent teacher conferences for the 2008-2009 school year.  Having my students' parents come to school, see the classroom (many for the first time), and meet me to talk about their child's progress was, in one word, brutal.  Absolutely brutal.  I felt like a cross between Miss America, the popular girl from my high school, and New York's worst teacher.  Prior to the conferences starting I tried cleaning the room, organizing it, hanging up student work, and tried to catch up on the piles of student work still needing to be graded.  The pre-conference moment is much like having an important guest come over for dinner.  I showered that day, I tried to look as professional as possible, and had 2 bottles of water in my desk to keep me hydrated and to provide for those moments when I need to think. A snickers bar didn't seem appropriate.  

Looking back on the whole experience the entire event was pretty comical.  Parents rotated in and out of the classroom in 3 minute intervals.  When a parent entered the classroom, I would smile big, stand tall, stretch out my right arm, and then proceed to give them a somewhat scripted narrative about the class, their child, and then what I think will happen for the rest of the year.  There were also those moments when I wondered to myself if I should have copies of my resume, along with diagrams breaking down each child and their performance along with my curriculum map, and a crystal ball to see if their child will get into Harvard, or if they will pass the AP exam.  

I don't know people.  I'm only a teacher.  

School's not hard.  You show up, study, play the game, participate, and then you're successful.  I was a lazy kid in school.  It wasn't until my 10th grade year in high school when I finally had a teacher that challenged me intellectually (shout out to Ms. Pyle) that I started to engage more, I started to care more, and then that's when I finally got out of the C/B grade range and became an A student.  It ain't rocket science.  The kids in my classes who are failing are the students who literally don't do anything.  

My first round of parent teacher conferences opened my eyes to notice that there are 4 main types of parents.  There's the Delusional Parent who believes Little Johnny is a genius and will publish a Pulitzer Prize because he went to camp for writing over the summer and he won an award.  Then there's the Poker Player Parent who you have no idea if they're agreeing or disagreeing with what you're saying because they sit back, stare, have questions and then walk out.  Then there's the Hidden Agenda Parent who will ask you roundabout questions to test your intellect, and competency.  And then there's the Perfect Parent who seems to have a healthy balance of anxiety and nervousness about their child, but is also in no way delusional about their own child's ability level, and lastly, thinks you're a good teacher.  

Overall, I had a lot more Perfect Parents than I did any other kid of parent come to parent teacher conferences.  I loved hearing that they're child enjoyed my class, that they were loving the material and that their little girl wants to be an AP English teacher when she grows up. Unfortunately though it's the parent(s) (there were only 2 out of the 66 that visited this quarter) that pushes you, that interrogates you and that outwardly judges your intellect, competency, and place at the school that make you feel a little dejected about devoting your entire life to teaching the youth of the world.  [I've noticed that I've become a lot more dramatic since working at a high school...]

It's Saturday, and I'm back to my old self, but shortly after doing 2 nights of conferences I felt a little shaken and unsure of myself again.  School got out early Friday so I finally was able to get home before the sun went down, and even caught a little Oprah before heading to the Laundromat.  Later that night, I went out to my favourite margarita place and had a couple to pick me up after a long week last night, which really helped to recharge me.  I arrived at the restaurant early to have a margarita before my boyfriend arrived because I wanted to chill out, and not spew about school all night.  When he did finally arrived I almost forgot about this past week :)  Gotta love tequila.  

I feel like every Friday at the end of the school day there should be servers who come around to each classroom to drop off a frozen Gold margarita for the faculty and staff of the school.  I bet everyone would be a lot happier :)

x,

Ms. P