How To Talk With Your Child's School

In the back to school chaos, some things get forgotten.  It's nobody's fault; there's supplies to purchase, drop off/pick up times to arrange, and lunches to pack.  Even when parents come to "Meet the Teacher" events, there's often so many other parents there that the teacher can only spare a moment or two with each person.  A number of teachers hand out an informational sheet which lets parents know about general rules, homework, and they may provide a phone number or an email address at that time.  Parents rarely think that they will have to contact the teacher, for any reason.  The expectation for most parents is that the school year will run smoothly, and they won't have to use that teacher's number or email.

Unfortunately, that doesn't always happen.  

The best communications between school and home are purposeful, focused on the child, and end with everyone feeling that they were heard.  Over my years in public school, I've spoken with many parents. I've seen what gets results and what does not.   There are a few tips for successfully communicating with your child's school.

Work WITH the school, not against.  Believe it or not, your child's school has a system in place.  Kids having problems with learning or behavior are identified by teachers and interventions are put into place to address those. Sometimes a little attention is all it takes to get a child back on track, sometimes more is needed. Those decisions by a school are based on data, such as test scores, observations, etc.  The goal is to intervene just enough to help without limiting the child's ability to learn independently.  

Listen.  I've had parents walk into meetings already angry and screaming.  Nothing happens when people are screaming; it is too loud to think, let alone talk. 

Ask Questions.  If you don't understand, ask.  If it's not explained clearly, ask again.  You have the right to understand what is happening in the education of your student.

Speak positive. Find the good.  It's right there in front of you.  Is your kid happy?  Does he or she like school?  That's a good thing.  Point that out.  Start your concern with a positive. For example:  "My child loves coming to school every day, Ms. Fisher.  She loves your class.  I have a concern about the amount of homework, however.  Can you explain the policy to me, including accommodations that might be available?" 

Follow the chain of command. Nothing makes me angrier than being blindsided by a problem I didn't even know I needed to fix.  If a parent has a problem with something I said or something I did or didn't do, then I am the person to talk to first.  It's the same with teachers.  Talk to the teacher first. An email works better than a phone call, but if all you have is time to text, that's great.  

If the teacher does not respond,  make another attempt, then contact the principal.  Ask for a meeting politely and schedule that meeting.  Show up for the meeting with data--emails, work samples, etc.  Speak your mind, ask questions, and discuss your ideas for a solution.  

Moms and Dads, your engagement with the school is necessary and a vital part in the success of your child, no matter who they are or where they are.  Schools, your engagement with parents is necessary and a vital part in the success of all children, no matter who or where they are.  

We are on the same team.  Remember that. 

 

  

Walk it Off

 My wonderful son is EIGHTEEN, despite my efforts to keep him tiny and cherished. I can remember him chasing cats around the kitchen in his walker, and changing his diapers, and holding him when he was scared.  We had such wonderful conversations when I drove him to and from school with him securely strapped into a car seat.  We would talk about God and the whole world.  Now he actually drives himself to school while I say a silent prayer that he gets there safely.  

When I was that age, I didn't see myself as an adult.  I moved into my college dorm without a care in the world, thinking that college was just high school, part two.  Mom and Dad were there to take care of any emergencies that popped up. The first time I ever got sick while in college, I called my Dad. Any time I got sick, I talked to my dad, because he would say, "Meh, it's nothing, walk it off," and I knew that I would survive.  Except that is not what my Dad said this time.  

"What do you want me to do about it?  I'm a few thousand miles away." 

And I remember thinking a bad word, because Dad, in his infinite wisdom, was right.  That did not solve my dilemma, however. My stomach really hurt, and not in the way a stomachache has you laying on the couch sipping Sprite and eating crackers while watching soap operas.  This was actual pain, knives poking into my gut repeatedly. Never happened to me before, so I freaked, of course.

My anxiety immediately went to the conclusion that I was going to die.  

I eventually realized that there was a clinic on campus, and I walked there, slowly, in the dark. I saw a person at the clinic that may have been a doctor, but maybe not.  This person looked at my pale, tearstained face, listened to my tale of woe, gave me a prescription for what was probably Prilosec, and sent me home.  No emergency room visit.  I was fine the next day.   I probably could have just walked it off, but I was eighteen.  

So now my boy has been having stomach issues, but I am right here to share the wisdom of my Dad, and the OTC Prilosec.  And my son did indeed go walking, and his stomach stopped hurting.  There's a lesson in there somewhere, maybe about problem solving or pausing for a breath before freaking out.  I'll let my child figure it out.

Walk it off.  

Well, this has been a year

 Wow, I blinked and it's JUNE.  

I still want to punch most of the Trump administration.  However, in my efforts to become a better human, I've started praying for those idiots.  I cannot think of people more in need of mercy, and that's what followers of Christ are supposed to do, be merciful.  It has been a tumultuous journey, with many rants to myself in my office at work.  It doesn't say that you have to love your neighbor but only if they are white and agree with you.  It just says that you're supposed to love your neighbor, and it's implied that that means everyone.  So I am making an attempt at being a better person.  They don't have AA for this sort of thing, but they should.

My dad still has dementia, but he's past the "make random comments at pretty girls" and the "wander off and fall asleep on the neighbors' bench" phase.  He doesn't move much at all from his spot on the couch.  He sleeps.  He is still a firm "no" on moving into a nursing home, and according to my mother, Dad is able to get himself up and to the bathroom, dress himself, and feed himself. He knows that he drinks an Ensure every morning with his coffee. He only wants to eat sweets, but his blood sugar is good.  Let him eat whatever he wants, I say.  I kind of envy him that.  When I visit, my dad calls me "Angel" and "Beautiful" so many times, and then I ask him who I am.  He has to think about it for a minute, but so far he knows that I am his daughter and he can say my name.   

And my son graduated from high school.  The valedictorian played a prank on us, sending us a QR code which was that Rick Astley video.  Yes, she rickrolled us.  What has been interesting to me is how many people do not know what that means!  I don't know how we can have any sort of culture war if nobody knows our culture. Everyone should know who Lawrence Welk and Milton Berle were, if only so you get the references, and the jokes. Anyway, now I have this man-boy in my house with nothing to do until college starts. It's weird. I have asked him about getting a job, but he just cleans the house and fixes us dinner. Like I said, weird.

And yes, this is NOT AI. This is an actual person writing this! Very neurodivergent!