Teacher Had a Big Ole 'But'

Things have been altogether too quiet on The Teacher front. Oh, you remember her, don't you, from previous scenes such as "Totally Freaking Me Out", "Totally Pissing Me Off", and - a favorite of Wonderwheel readers everywhere - "Totally Forgetting Baxter's Birthday Party"?

Yes, that one.

Well, I've got another good one for you today. Buckle your seat belts...

It's pick-up time. The Teacher asks, "Which way are you guys walking?"

Confused, I point to the east where my car is parked.

"Okay, you boys run ahead," she says to Baxter and his friend, Carpool Buddy, essentially sending them unsupervised into a big crowd that is heading towards a busy parking lot exit.

Then she begins very seriously with, "Most of the other kids..." No, she decides this is not how to start, so we pretend she didn't say that. She starts again. "Baxter is a VERY sweet and good student... " and at this point she grabs my arm - "now, don't think there's going to be a 'but' here, because there isn't! There's no 'but' in this sentence! I promise!"

Now I'm really confused. I was quite positive that I heard a 'but' coming and was very, very interested to hear what it would be this time. Because if there's no 'but', what could possibly come next? "...and so I've nominated him for a very special award that only goes to the sweet and smart kids and I didn't want him to know about it"? That was all I could come up with in the split second before she opened that truly amazing mouth of hers again.

So she goes on. And you won't even believe what she said.

"He is a very sweet and good student...BUT..."

And then she says lightly, as if surprised, "Oh, well, I guess there was a 'but' in that sentence, after all!"

Oh. my. God.

What. a. nut.

(And, I'd just like to add for your continued amazement that the big ole "but" was because today when she asked him not to read during writing time - he was finished with his writing work - he cried, and she didn't know why. And apparently he did this once before, but it was a long time ago. And so she wanted us to work "as a team" to get to the bottom of this. Which was not difficult because he immediately 'fessed up to me that he was really embarrassed that he was called out for doing something he shouldn't be doing and didn't realize it wasn't okay. Personally, I'd reserve that kind of admonishment for, I don't know, breaking classroom crayons when bored, rather than reading a book at one's literacy magnet school. Maybe that's just me.)

Just a Suggestion

If you were, let's say, a second grade teacher who had been called out a mere week ago for making an inappropriate comment to another parent in front of me, I would really, truly recommend that when my husband brings in 30 cupcakes and juice boxes that he bought on a late-night grocery run last night, talking to you about them and putting them smack dab in the center of your desk, that you don't then FORGET TO DO THE PARTY.

Because when my son comes home from school and says confusedly, "I didn't have my party at school...but I don't know why," you are only going to lose more points with me. A. lot. more. points.

Just a suggestion, is all.

Mama Bear Checks in

Thank you all for your helpful and supportive comments and emails last week in response to this post. I am taking a moment during this week's blog hiatus to fill you in after today's parent-teacher conference.

So, we walked in this morning and I immediately grabbed Baxter's teacher by the shoulders. Talking as loudly as she does, I demanded, "Why do you have such a big freaking mouth?? Please think before you speak in the future, and DO NOT talk about your students to other parents!!"

Okay, okay, that was only one of my middle-of-the-night fantasies.

Instead, we participated in the conference like reasonable human beings. I was very pleased with Baxter's progress in the 1st quarter and it was clear that his teacher sees the same strengths and challenges that we see. Despite the fact that he's so young, he is at or above grade level in all areas and has earned a "Good Citizenship" award for being an all-around good guy, as he has every quarter at this school. We pointedly asked about his behavior and attention and were told that everything is fine. I stand by my opinion that she is, in fact, an excellent teacher.

After this glowing report, I - as calmly as I could - explained that I had been quite worried about what she was going to tell us today, given what she was saying last week to another parent during the Halloween celebration. I helped her to recall that the younger children in her class are making it "very difficult for [her] to teach" and "stare at [her] with open mouths when given directions". Ahem.

I watched as her understanding of this mistake unfolded, and she managed to apologize as profusely as we (and our child) deserved. To her credit, as soon as she saw this through our eyes she understood what was problematic about it and was properly mortified. I pointed out that next week, when the other mother's child comes home and says, "It was Baxter's birthday! And Mom - he just turned seven today!", the other mother will immediately connect my son with the image of a child who is struggling to get by in 2nd grade and is detracting from her own daughter's education by making things so very difficult for the teacher. All of which is untrue and unfair to my child. Furthermore, I pointed out that this conversation had taken place not with the principal or another teacher, but with another parent, and that this was inappropriate. I politely but strongly recommended to her that she have another conversation with that other parent and correct herself. She agreed to do so.

We left the room, congratulating ourselves. After all, we were done, right?

Sadly, not really. Although I am certainly relieved to have gotten this off my chest, I am not entirely satisfied. As I see it, there was a whole lot more that needed to be discussed but couldn't possibly be covered since we'd already gone over our alloted 10 minutes and another family was waiting. (Yes: only ten minutes. Another insult of modern education in Illinois and California!)

For one thing, I feel very uncomfortable with the fact that I played the card of Baxter's actual high performance in this scenario, as if that mattered. The truth is, that actually has nothing to do with it. I knew it would help her to understand our point of view as quickly as possible, but let's say that he did have trouble processing information or paying attention in class. I spend many hours a week with perfectly lovely and delightful children who have those very challenges, and I am a strong advocate for them in these types of situations. If my child were having those difficulties, I'd be even more upset about it because of the deep breach in confidentiality and privacy, not to mention discrimination. The point I wanted to make was that her words were a complete and utter insult to any children in her class who might be struggling with anything - that's part of teaching and she needs to be able to deal with whatever skill range she is given. Sure, it's a hard job - so teachers need to talk to other teachers and their principal about how to do it. Not other parents.

Secondly, I would like to have spent a good chunk of time making it clear that we don't all share her educational values. That is, that although she stated (to the mother of an older second grader) that she would prefer her child be "the oldest and smartest" in his class, these two characteristics are not on our top ten list of things important to us for our kids' education. It's not all about "smart" in my book, and for God's sake, someone has to be the youngest. Might as well be my kid. Who cares?! That's a post for another day.

But in the end, I'd say there's a teacher out there who is feeling acutely embarrassed about her behavior. I for one think that is most appropriate, and am happy to have at least part of this burden off my shoulders.

GRRRR...

Do you ever just have one of those days (weeks...months...)? One of those Mama Bear On Alert, Don't-Mess-with-Me kind of days?

I know it started on Halloween, when I was volunteering in Baxter's class. I - the mother of the youngest child in the second grade, thanks to a later cut-off age for kindergarten back in California - had the misfortune of hearing the teacher (how could I not hear that booming voice when I was standing less than two feet away) make a series of comments to another parent about the lack of wisdom of sending one's children to school "too young". It was one of those nasty comments that started with, "Now, I'm not going to tell anyone how to be a parent, but..." and ended with, "I'd rather my child be the oldest and smartest in the class, let me tell you!"

Excuse me?

I didn't relate the entire conversation here, but suffice it to say: if you were the parent of a youngish child OR a child with special needs, you would NOT have been pleased with this teacher's description of trying to teach to all of the kids in her class. No, not at all. It was wrong on so very many levels - what she said, how she said it, who she said it to, and when she said it. The only reason I didn't jump on it right then and there was that it was, well, a party. That and I was afraid I would have said things that I would have regretted later. Instead, I'm saving it up for next week's teacher conference. Oh, yes, I certainly am.

So, folks, let me just say that I am ready for battle. Not that I will actually be anything less than polite next week, but believe me, I will be direct and clear.

In the meantime, take pity on anyone who crosses me. I gave a Hyatt hotel customer service representative a rip-roaring hard time this morning when they screwed up a reservation and then refused to give me the lower rate they had originally promised me. ("Take that! And that! And this is for screwing up in the same week that I'm really, really furious with my son's teacher!")

As I told a good friend on the phone this morning, "If you've got a bone to pick with me about anything, this would not be the day."

Damn These Glasses

Have you ever had an experience that caused you to see your child in a new, significantly altered light? Sometimes this is triggered by something unique he has done, or maybe a surprising comment from someone else?

I know parents of children diagnosed with special needs talk about this sensation, and I often work with them to remember that the child sitting in front of them is the same child they had before the diagnosis - that the diagnosis hasn't actually changed their child, even though it feels that way for a while.

I had one of those experiences last Thursday and I've been too confused and upset to know how to write about it, but I'm going to try. I apologize in advance for the length.

When I picked Baxter up from school, he came running to me and said, "Mommy, Ms. C-- wants to talk to you," and promptly buried his head in my hip and began to cry. ("Oh crap!" I thought, "has he broken classroom crayons again?!") I walked around the fence with both Baxter and his carpool buddy in tow, and approached his new teacher, who declared in a very loud voice (she's known for this) and in front of a large group of parents waiting for their kids, "Baxter is having a very, very, very, very, very, very [she really did say it at least this many times] hard time paying attention at school." Oh. Gulp.

I got through the remainder of this conversation somehow, and later in the afternoon had collected myself enough to call the teacher to talk further about it and try to understand better what she meant exactly. And I don't know how I feel about it.

A big part of me is irritated with my son. He's so busy talking to his friends and watching what they're doing that quite often he's not even turned towards the teacher when she's teaching - and this is after she's seated him at the very front of the group. [Ouch.]

I suddenly have flashes: Baxter at home, blowing us off when we ask him to do something - Baxter at soccer sitting in the grass looking into the distance while the coach is teaching them something - and so on. I never thought it was particularly noticeable in a group of kids; I mean, it always seemed like they all did this stuff sometimes. But now I am told that he's having a far harder time with it all of a sudden. This makes me furious at him for not being respectful and for not understanding the importance of listening to adults. Which only leads to anger at myself for perhaps not instilling these values in him strongly enough yet.

A heartbeat later I'm worried instead - does he actually have an attention problem? Or a problem processing language that I never saw before (which would be incredibly ironic, given my work)? Is there fluid in his ears again? What's wrong?

It also, frankly, leaves me feeling irritated with the teacher for expecting so much of my 6-year old on day 8 of school, and at our nation's public schools for increasing the expectations so greatly that second graders are now expected to do the work that was previously expected of third graders.

I mean, come on - second graders are still really young!! [Or, asks that taunting inner voice, is it just your second grader who is really young?] Baxter started school in California, where the kindergarten cut-off date is in December, and so he is quite a bit younger than his classmates here and would have been in first grade this year by Illinois standards. Since he's tall, social, articulate and bright, his teachers have never known this until we've shocked them with it, or his birthday rolled around, whichever came first. But this begs the question: is it becoming a problem now?

On Saturday I pulled from his folder a math test that had one problem out of three completed. At the top it read "30 minutes. 1 problem. 2/6=33% Please sign here x_____." and I was so incredibly frustrated with my child. When I sat down with him to complete it together, it turns out that he didn't understand a critical line in the directions - which I'm sure his teacher explained and he...wasn't listening.

And suddenly, in my mind, Baxter was having all sorts of problems at school, and I didn't know how to solve them because I didn't understand why. There were just so many possibilities.

Yesterday was a very difficult day around here.

However, Matt had all sorts of useful insight into the potential root of this problem, which really helped me to understand it better. And Baxter focused all weekend at home, at soccer, at church, and on a big project for school that we spent 5-6 hours on this weekend. This morning I opened up his homework folder again and discovered - as if they'd suddenly been placed there by divine intervention - three other math sheets he'd done in class last week that had 100% and smiley faces scrawled at the top! Wait a minute here! Do you mean he's perfectly capable of completing his work - and correctly, to boot?

And not only that, but my son demonstrated in so many different ways this weekend what an exceptional child he is: loving, compassionate, funny, smart, and athletic. I started to be able to see the Baxter I know and love again.

It troubles me that I could only see that Other Baxter for a few days - the new one I met on Thursday who doesn't (can't?) pay attention, who's being disrespectful, who is unable to complete class work, who will perhaps really struggle through this school year.

A good friend said this morning that these situations are like "being given a new pair of glasses" with which to see your child, and that's exactly it. I saw him through those new glasses, borrowed from the teacher, and was extremely unhappy with the view; when I took them off, there was my child again, the fabulous kid he'd always been.

I told my friend that I'd like to break those glasses and throw them away. I do know, however, that this would be unwise. There is undoubtedly reality worth seeing in both views of my child, and it is important for me to see him clearly in order to help him be his best self.

I just need to remember not to leave the glasses on too long, because we would both become vastly unhappy very quickly and, really, there is no need for that.