Today is National Teacher Day, and I, an elementary school music teacher home sick with strep throat, am going to indulge myself with a seemingly favorite Kos activity - a rant. But this time, it's not against No Child Left Behind, or administrators, or all the other nonsense that comes with working in today's public schools. Today I want to rant about parents.
I'm not talking about the nightmare parents - the abusers, the neglecters, the divorced couples who stand in the school parking lot screaming at each other as to whose turn it is to pick up their child. They are the obvious, and we do all we can to keep them from destroying their children. No, I want to talk about the ordinary, usually nice, ostensibly well-balanced and certainly well-meaning parents. The ones who can drive a teacher to distraction.
I have bus duty outside three days a week, and in the winter it's a chore to get the kids to put on their coats. "I'm not cold," they say as they step out of the overheated building. "Zip up," I insist, even to the kid who, for some quirk of parental oversight, is wearing shorts in February. So one shivery day, I get after John, who is wearing just a t-shirt, and say, in my strict-teacher voice that I practiced for ages when I first started doing this, "You need to put your coat on." He whines, and says no, and tells me it's not cold, but I stand there and insist and start helping him out of his backpack so he doesn't have much of a choice. He mutters at me but puts his coat on - he's a 4th grade kid, it's not much of a battle. But then, I turn around and see his dad just behind us, who has followed him out of the school, ready to walk him home. And what does his dad say? "See John, I told you you needed to put your jacket on."
So why wasn't the jacket already on?
I went outside in the morning one day just before the bell rang because I had to give something to the PTA mom who was out there waiting for the arrival of some people who were coming to do a program at school that day. She was on her cell phone, while her first grader stood near her. When I handed her the stuff (I didn't like interrupting her, but I couldn't wait, I had to get back to my classroom) she paused in her conversation, handed the things off to her son and told him, "Here's the key. Please go put these in the car." I thought, yikes, the busses are still pulling in to the parking lot, so I said, "I'd be happy to go with him if you're on the phone." She glared at me and snapped, "I'll do it." Later that morning she accosted me and said in an icy voice, "Even though he's six years old, we try to give our child a lot of independence, and I didn't appreciate you stepping in like you did."
The independence to run across a busy parking lot?
I do a holiday concert in December (where I scrupulously do the same number of Christmas and Hanukah songs, and some from Asia, and some from the Middle East, because our student body is from everywhere, though I have to say no matter what I do some parent complains. "Yes, you had the same number of Christmas and Hanukah songs but the Christmas songs weren't as religious as the Hanukah songs.") Part of the concert features 4th and 5th grade soloists - kids who have been studying an instrument on their own for a while and are quite good - which I actually don't like doing, as I'd rather focus on the whole group, but my principal said the concert wasn't long enough, so this was my creative solution. Then in the early spring, I do a "First Grade Music Night", which is not so much a concert but a chance for parents to see what the music program is all about (i.e. real learning, not recreation.) So one day a week or so before the first grade performance, a parent stops me in the hall and says, "My child would like to play solo piano in the first grade concert." I explain that though I appreciate her letting me know, there won't be any solos in this program. She insists, "But my child is very good." No, I'm sorry, no solos. "But she would enjoy it so much." I understand, but I'm not having solos at this performance. "But you did at the last concert." Yes I did, but this will be a different sort of concert. "But I'd really like her to do it." No. "Perhaps she could be the only one." NO NO NO!
And she's not the sole parent who seems to think her child is the only child in the building.
They mean well, and I'd be the first to say that some teachers aren't great, and school is really not designed with the needs of kids in mind (not the teachers' fault, I might add - we don't make the laws nor write the curriculum, we're just the ones who have to deal with the tired, cranky little ones who are being asked to do work at a pace that even most adults can't handle.) (All those who take a break to check in on Kos from time to time while they're at the office - this means you.) But some parents make a teacher crazy. The kid's not motivated? It's your fault. The kid misbehaves? Your class is boring. You tell them about a problem? You're just picking on my child. You send home two notices about an upcoming event? Why didn't you let us know? You ask them not to park in the "bus circle" because they're blocking other people? I'll just be a minute. You give the kid a "B"? You just don't recognize my child's talents.
And on and on. Sometimes it just wears me out. So on National Teacher Day, think of us with kindness, please. Most of us do a pretty good job.