As a dad to a 10-year-old daughter and 7-year-old son, I鈥檓 deeply grateful to my children鈥檚 teachers. As a teacher of 25 wonderful 2nd graders, I鈥檓 deeply grateful to my students鈥� parents. Yet it often feels like a chasm separates parents and teachers.
In the age of the all-hallowed multiple-choice test, school tends to carve a narrower definition of learning and success than most moms and dads hold for the little humans they love most on Earth. School also makes tremendous claims on the time parents have with their children.
Kids spend more waking hours at school during the week than they spend in their own homes. Add the demands of homework, forms to sign, and school events, and family time can shrink to a thin rind of the evening.
My mom still remembers a parent night when my brother was in 2nd grade. After the teacher explained the nightly homework to the parents in attendance, our friend鈥檚 mom raised her hand. 鈥淵ou get my son for seven hours a day,鈥� she said. 鈥淲hen he gets home, that鈥檚 our time. If he wants to lie in a field and look up at the sky for a couple of hours instead of doing homework, we鈥檙e going to let him.鈥�
Not long after I became a dad, it hit me that I only truly want two things for my daughter and son: I want them to be happy and I want them to be good people. Everything else, from their reading levels to the professions they鈥檒l someday choose, is a means to one of those two ends.
At times, I have been deeply frustrated by my children鈥檚 teachers. By their harsh tone of voice when young children have trouble being quiet or sitting still. By their appetite for taking away the students鈥� precious 20 minutes of recess for infractions like losing their math homework or standing up to get a Kleenex without asking permission first. By their relentless fixation on rewards and punishments, behavior charts and test scores.
As a parent who is also a teacher, I have stood on the other side of that chasm, too. I have felt irked by parents who seem unconcerned that their child is being cruel to other children in class, yet are deeply troubled that the office listed four tardies on the report card when their own count is three and a half. I have been baffled by the fact that some parents of children who read far below grade-level can鈥檛 find 20 minutes in their evening to make sure their child reads at home.
So as a member of that tribe of half-parent/half-teacher centaurs, who share a deep and abiding love for our students and our own children, let me offer this dual letter to those on either side.
A Parent鈥檚 Plea to Teachers
Last night, my daughter couldn鈥檛 stop worrying about the daily folder she had misplaced at school. Her grandma ended up driving to the middle school late at night, convincing the custodian to unlock the door, and scouring the cafeteria until she found the missing folder.
Judging by my daughter鈥檚 euphoria when the folder was returned to her, you would think she had been reunited with a lost kitten. All this kerfuffle so I could initial a little box on a photocopied calendar, averting my daughter鈥檚 deep fear that she would receive the dreaded 鈥淯鈥� if she didn鈥檛 have it signed the next day.
In many children鈥檚 minds, the classroom consequences鈥攁 鈥渃olor change鈥� or 鈥渃lipping down鈥� on the behavior chart, a 鈥淯鈥� marked in a folder鈥攍oom way out of proportion to their actual importance.
Teachers, try to show our children a little patience and grace. Try to remember that it鈥檚 just a folder, or a reading log, or a moment of forgetfulness. These little humans and their parents are mostly doing the best we can.
A Teacher鈥檚 Plea to Parents
In your home, you might be responsible for the well-being of two or three children. In my classroom, I鈥檓 responsible for 25. More than two dozen young humans to care for, all of whom have various moods, mishaps, and needs鈥攁 question, a Band-Aid, a Kleenex, a hug鈥攖hat pop up all day with the unpredictable urgency of exploding popcorn kernels.
I鈥檓 doing the best I can to treat every child with the same attention, patience, and compassion I鈥檇 want my own children鈥檚 teachers to show toward them. But if I miss something鈥攜our son鈥檚 sudden certainty that he鈥檚 about to throw up, the mean girl at recess who hurt your daughter鈥檚 feelings鈥攑lease remember that I鈥檓 outnumbered. There鈥檚 only one of me, and at many moments of many days, that鈥檚 not enough to go around.
So if the car rider line crawls at a snail鈥檚 pace during this afternoon鈥檚 pickup, or your daughter鈥檚 teacher doesn鈥檛 think to check her backpack for picture money, or your son loses the toy he brought to school and his teacher doesn鈥檛 have time between 3:08 and 3:15 to help him search for it, try to show your children鈥檚 teachers a little patience and grace. Most of us are doing the best we can.
P.S. Thank You
Like most parents, I tend to overreact when that papa bear impulse gets triggered. Like most teachers, I tend to fixate on the support I need from parents, while forgetting to ask what support they might need from me. Yet when I think of my children鈥檚 teachers over their past five years in public school, or my students鈥� parents over the past 18, my main emotion is gratitude.
Teachers, thank you. For doing so much, in such exhausting circumstances, to help our sons and daughters thrive while they are in your care.
Parents, thank you. We know your children are your heart itself. You drop off that heart with us every morning. We鈥檙e grateful for the gift of your trust.
Teachers and parents need each other. This school year, let鈥檚 reach out when we have something to thank each other for, not just when we have a complaint. Let鈥檚 remember how hard both our jobs can be, and try to make them a little easier for each other when we can.
We care deeply about the children whose lives, in school and at home, are in our hands. Let鈥檚 do whatever we can to honor that shared truth.
