The Good, The Bad, The Parent/Teacher Conference

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There is an art to successful parent teacher conferences.

I can’t say that I’ve mastered it yet. I’m certainly better than I was last year and the year before but getting that perfect balance of positive feedback and “No, really, I NEED you to read with your child EVERY night” is tricky. At my school this balance is further challenged because all but three of my families speak primarily Spanish in the home. I’m grateful for the amazing translators we have at our school but sometimes it feels like my words lose some of their weight when going through a third party.

Other times I get the feeling that my voice is starting to sound like the teacher from Charlie Brown. My world is ruled by data. I realize this is not the case for all the patrons of our school but I still think it’s important that they understand it. I don’t want them to get that first report card and come banging on my classroom door because Johnny didn’t make all A’s. Data can be used to create measurable and achievable goals that teacher, parent, and student can all work towards together. But how do I show them data that is not overwhelming but is more than “Well, Johnny is doing well in math but we still need to work on his reading. Ok, thanks for coming!”

I’ve tried something new each year to communicate with my parents. I think I’m getting closer but it can be hard to tell. Parents are as bad as students with the “smile and nod” when it’s not really making any sense. Sometimes I wish I could ask my parents to fill out a comment card at the end of our conferences. Something along the line of, “Thanks for coming tonight and would you mind filling out this short questioner about your time with us today and put it in the box on your way out?”

Whether or not I got it right this time at least I know I have a lifetime ahead of me to perfect the Art of Conferences. And in the end, parents showed up, most of them listened, some of them talked, none of them yelled at me, and some bridges were built. I think I can call this round of conferences a success.

One week down. 35 to go!

I always have mixed feelings about the first week of school.

The first week of school means a three week break filled to the brim with graduate classes, district trainings and faculty meetings. It means writing 28 names on labels, folders, mailboxes, more folders, welcome signs, and still more folders. It takes hours to pull out and staple decodable readers. More hours are spent trying to design and organize a new small group rotation schedule so that I can meet the needs of those 28 growing minds. The first week of school means stress and late nights.

But…

It also means new crayons, new ideas, and a fresh start. These students don’t know about that math lesson I tried last year and how it ended with everyone involved completely frustrated. They weren’t in my room that day, about a week before Christmas break, when I really lost my patience and raised my voice when I shouldn’t have. They are ignorant to my failings and shortcomings.

In return, I don’t know how many times they were in the AC room last year. I am unaware of their  inability to keep quiet or sit still. I have never taken away their recess time or called home with bad news. When they walk into my room I tell them how excited I am that they are in my class… and I really mean it.

In the end, even with all the craziness and stress, I’m thankful for a new year and a fresh start. Maybe this year I will finally get it all right… or at least get a little bit closer. 

          I love teaching.  I never would have imagined when I picked a major in college that I would fall so deeply in love with education.  Over the last two and a half years teaching has become less what I do and so much more who I am.   But some days, like today, the weight of this job just seems like too much.  I was asked to do the impossible and I fell short.

            Do you know the story about that little engine, you know, the one that could?  Teaching can be a lot like that story.  At the beginning of the year I’m given a class of students.  My goal is to get them from point A up and over the hill to point B by the end of the year.  Sometimes it’s smooth sailing, I like those days.  But most of the time it’s a lot of pushing and pulling. And you know what, I like those days too.  Those are the days that I really feel like a teacher.  Except, as we head up the hill none of the train cars seem to stay together, some are on the middle of the hill, others are almost to the top, and still others are already over the hill racing to the next one.  Then there are those cars that you can barely get moved out of the station.  And yet  “they’re moving!” you tell yourself.  If I can just keep them moving we’ll get there, just keep them moving.  So on you go, day after day, just trying to keep everyone making progress, making little moves forward. 

            This seems fine, until you have to step back and look at the whole hill.  All that work, all that pushing and pulling and planning and working… it didn’t make a difference, not really.  Sure they’re five steps ahead of where you started but they are still twenty steps away from where they should be.

            That’s where I am today.  Looking back at all the work, all the hours of planning, differentiating instruction, working through recess and lunch to get the kids up the hill and… we are so very, very far away.

            I love teaching, I really do.  I don’t want to do anything else.  I know that tomorrow I will walk back into my classroom at 6:30am, sit down at my desk, take a deep breath and start back on the planning.  I bet we will even make a little more progress by the end of the day! But today… Today I am tired, overwhelmed and defeated.