By the time you read this, I will have participated in two parent-teacher interviews.
I liken the decision to attend these meetings to the stress of deciding whether or not to get the flu shot. Will it make a difference? Will there be side effects? Is it going to hurt? And if I don’t go, what will happen?
And like most needle-phobic consumers who carry deep-seated conspiracy theories about the flu shot but got one last year anyway, I figured this term I would make the time to visit both my children’s schools and find out what my kids are like when I’m not around. Last year, I got the flu shot but avoided the parent-teacher interview. This year, I’ll risk it.
Despite entering the classroom as a grown woman, I anticipate that I will revert back to the awkward 12-year-old version of myself who thought an “E” on a report card was good because at least it was a vowel. I had many vowels on my transcripts. Nobody seemed too concerned. They were right not to be.
Now it seems the relationship between parents and teachers has changed over the years, hence my dread of these meetings. There is an “us against them” mentality. It’s bizarre. My generation of parents is so knowledgeable on theories of education that we have a lexicon of learning style diagnosis like never before.
I can assure you that my mother never marched into Mrs. Pither’s Grade 3 class and said, “My daughter has a non-verbal learning disability and sensory integration problem with a mathematical disorder and thus needs her work laid out in a specific sequence format with a scribe for her tests.”
In hindsight, I wish she did; school would have been a much more positive experience for me if I was allowed to learn in my own way. Instead, my mother got me math tutors, made me write and rewrite until my letters were neat and encouraged me to do the things I did well, like writing stories. She didn’t harp on things like grades. Letters didn’t make the person, effort did. I failed many classes and achieved at others. But I was a good kid. I was kind. I played well with others. I talked a lot, but I wasn’t disruptive. All in all, I wasn’t going to Harvard and I wasn’t at risk for gangs. Good enough.
Being the parent of a child who has no learning issues and another with a learning disability that transfers into social realms, I totally understand both sides of the chalk line here. If I don’t advocate for my child they will be lost in a system that, despite access to resources, extra help and Individual Education Plans that look official on paper, simply cannot accommodate those kids who don’t fit in the box.
Parents of those students have to pay close attention. We have to learn to navigate the system. No matter where our kid fits on the curriculum grid, we need to work with the teachers to create positive learning environments. And sometimes, we have to know when to back out and let the child stand on their own two feet.
After my last flu shot, I got a rash. Wish me luck at the parent-teacher interview. While I advocate for my kids, I support their teachers. And for the record, I use vowels a lot more than fractions. Just sayin’.