I’ve recently changed my approach to parent teacher conferences. My therapist helped me with this.
During my therapy sessions, I often talk about my kids. I’m passionate, thoughtful, caring, worried, creative, supportive, and obviously madly in love with these growing humans. I talk about their challenges and their talents. I talk about their poor attitudes and their astonishing kindness. I talk about their bravery and their laziness. I SEE them. And I will break my back to do what’s best for them.
Then I go into parent teacher conferences and I listen meekly, as if I don’t have anything to say. I don’t make excuses for my kids, because I don’t want to be THAT parent. I don’t question the teachers because I trust them. I don’t offer suggestions for fear of stepping on toes.
I listen. And while I can tell that these educators truly care, they’re often bringing me in to talk about a problem. An unmotivated child. A child struggling with trauma. A child with mental health concerns. A child with ADHD or anxiety or depression or all of the above. I hear about missing assignments or poor social skills or questionable decisions and I hang my head because all of these stories feel like a litany of my failures. I take responsibility for their weaknesses and their mistakes and their choices. I feel as if I am there to receive a punishment for poor parenting. The guilt catches in my throat, and I’m not sure what the appropriate response is. The teachers look at me expectantly. They’d like to hear what I’m going to DO. They want to be reassured that the parents will take charge and FIX this once we get home. As if we didn’t know. As if it were that simple.
Because, you see, I KNOW these kids. I’m not operating under the illusion that they’re perfect little snowflakes. I’m not oblivious or absent or unconcerned. I’m not hearing these things for the first time. Quite the opposite. We hear the frustration and we FEEL it, too. We know our kids have struggles. But we are engaged and thoughtful and our family is working hard to raise healthy, competent, confident, thoughtful, kind, motivated human beings who respect themselves and others and the world around them. We are teaching them gratitude and responsibility and self-care and respect.
In the past, I’ve sat through parent teacher conferences as if I were on trial or somehow receiving my punishment for poor parenting.
This time, I did it differently. Taking my therapist’s advice, I took control of the conversation. I listened, but I also used my voice to paint a picture of life in our house. They complained about homework completion. I shared my philosophy about NOT driving back to school to retrieve forgotten books or assignments. Not because I don’t care, but because I don’t want to send the message that their forgetfulness is my responsibility. Not to mention that nobody has the time to drive to three schools picking up forgotten materials at the end of a busy work day. I described what homework time looks like, with me bouncing from living room to dining room to den, answering questions and giving pep talks and making threats and offering suggestions to three students who struggle to complete their schoolwork independently.
They asked about outside therapy. I talked about our experiences with four therapists in three years and the trials of finding providers who take my school-provided insurance and the state-sponsored health care that Bea receives. They talked about creating opportunities to socialize outside of school. I shared our attendance at support groups and church events and music lessons and play rehearsals and play dates. And lest they think that these children are defined by their shortcomings, I bragged about their awesomeness. The adversity they’ve overcome. The speaking engagements, and DCF hearings and family visits and church missions and performances where they let themselves shine for the world to see.
They brought up suggestions that I’ve tried a million different times in a million different ways… rewards and punishments and behavior charts… and instead of explaining what DOESN’T work for my kids, I spent some time explaining what DOES help. Weekly progress reports. Creative projects. Cuddling on the couch with tea and some work to complete. Nighttime chats. After school chores and wi-fi timers and doing their own damned laundry. When they asked about medication, I shared the dosage and explained the morning routine and that I sometimes have to leave while there’s a kid in the shower. And if he didn’t take his medicine it’s because I couldn’t actually watch him so I shouted it four times and left a note and texted him and he STILL forgot. So instead of feeling the silent blame, I asked if we could simply leave extra with the nurse for the days he forgets. Problem solved.
And from now on, I’m not going to parent teacher conferences to silently receive information. The purpose is not for the teachers to teach me all about my kids. I know my kids, better than probably anyone on the planet. I’m not there to learn, and I’m not there to be reprimanded. I’m there to listen and share and problem-solve and partner with these dedicated teachers. Because we’re all on the same team. We’re all working toward the goal of raising and educating decent, competent humans.
And nobody should feel guilty about that.