Well, that's not really true. I've attended dozens of parent-teacher conferences. But this was the first time I attended as a parent and not a teacher.
I wasn't planning on going. The Goddess started messaging me at work about the conference. She had a slot scheduled for 7:20 and she was nervous. She is uncomfortable in these situations. She feels like she has no power as a parent and that teachers often use the opportunity to be critical of one's parenting rather than trying to help. So I asked if she wanted me to go with her and she typed "yes" almost before I had the question finished. A few messages to get a babysitter, arrangements to leave work at 6:45, and we're all set.
The meeting was about the eleven-year-old. He's not been completing homework. He got in trouble on Friday. It just so happens that there is already a conference planned. Fortuitous timing.
We get to the school and it's nearly deserted. There is no one to greet us, no signs directing us where to go, and no one in the office to ask. So we wander the hallways for ten minutes until we find the spot.
We're ushered in to the "team meeting." I used to do these all the time, so the format is extremely familiar to me. Basically, the child's teachers all sit around a table talking to the parent or parents. I've been on the other side. It's specifically designed to disrupt the balance of power. An angry parent with a single teacher can be an uncontrollable force.
The problem is that the format is actually really intimidating to parents. Not to me -- which is why the Goddess wanted me there. I know the dynamics and understand how it works. But it seems almost designed to make the parent feel as if she knows nothing at all about their own child.
The English teacher, Mrs. T, took the lead. I expected this because the eleven-year-old is failing her class and she wrote the incident report about his behavior last Friday. Mrs. T is dressed in her very best black jogging suit, her hair in a bun. She takes a lecturing tone. I immediately can't stand her.
All of the teachers report similar issues. He's misbehaving, sometimes picking on other kids. He's not doing homework. He runs in the hallways.
I'm on their side, but here's the thing: we've gotten exactly two pieces of communication from his teachers about his behavior. The first was a call that went to his biological father instead of us, so we really heard about it second-hand, in the form of text messages telling the Goddess how she is screwing up. The second was the incident report, just three days ago. Now they are telling us this is a regular behavior from him.
I'm frustrated. The eleven-year-old knows what we expect of him. He had a couple of incidents in elementary school last year, but he didn't skip homework. He can act like a little asshole at times, but that's just another way of saying, "He's an eleven-year-old boy." I mean, I with the teachers on this. We want him to treat other children kindly. We want him to be responsible. But come on, folks. Work with us here. We can't fix problems if we don't know they exist.
As each of the teachers talks, I'm noticing other patterns, too. All of the teachers describe the eleven-year-old acting like a dick sometimes. But the other teachers say, "He jokes with other kids about who they are dating or tells them he is better at something than they are." Mrs. T says, "He is bullying," and "He harasses other students." The other teachers say, "He is really smart," and, "He is not doing as well as I know he can." Mrs. T says, "He's failing."
They also note some of his problems. He likes to draw all the time. He wants to run. He is obsessed with dating and girls.
An eleven-year-old boy who would rather draw picture of robots and run than sit in a school desk and also thinks about girls all the time? I've never heard of such a thing.
I wanted to just say, "You got to be fucking joking. I mean, you've met eleven-year-olds before, right?"
The Goddess is starting to lose it. I can tell she is tearing up. She starts talking. She apologizes for indulging him. It is her fault. She was an overprotective mother. She only fed him organic foods when he was little. She tried to give him a magical life and now he's spoiled.
I squeeze her leg.
Because fuck apologizing to strangers for trying to raise your child the best way you know how. The Goddess is an amazing mother who thinks almost only of her kids all the time and any "errors" she has made have come from trying too hard. Besides, I think the kid is pretty good. I just see some problems we want to fix now rather than later.
I try a different approach.
"Mrs. T, the thing is, when I read the incident report, all I have is a description of the other student's response. You don't actually describe the behavior. It is very difficult for us to correct a behavior at home when the only account we have is from the child himself -- not from any of you. You describe the behavior as 'habitual,' but this is just the second indication we've had from you that there is a problem."
The other teachers shake their head "yes" when I say that I would like to see the behavior described. (This is a pretty fundamental idea in classroom management, by the way. The teacher erred in describing the student and the reaction, but failed to describe the action that needs to be corrected.) I can feel Mrs. T's fur rising on the back of her neck.
"Well, when I spoke to you the first time," (she addresses the Goddess instead of me), "you seemed completely unconcerned with his behavior."
Now, at this point, I want to say, "Fuck you, you self-important twat. You can't even be bothered to dress professionally to meet parents but you presume to speak condescendingly to the Goddess?" I'm trying to decide between "twat" and "bitch" when the Goddess speaks.
"Of course we're concerned, but we have to know about his behavior to correct it! You've only communicated with us twice." She goes on to explain that she actually met with the assistant principal about the child's behavior although this seems to be news to all the teachers there.
Mrs. T answers, "Well, we have 80 students a day! You need to understand that we can't be expected to stay in constant communication with parents about a child's behavior."
The thing is, I taught middle school for nine years. At one point I had 120 students a day and I had one planning period, not two, like the teachers on the "Cobalt Team" have. And you can be damn sure I called a parent every time I saw a child bullying another.
"We know exactly what to expect, Mrs. T. We both used to work in education. I taught middle school."
At this news, the other teachers noticeably relax. A couple of them smile.
"We're on your side," I say. "We just need communication from you so we can address these problems at home."
I'm probably misremembering the meeting. I probably make myself sound like way less of an asshole than I actually was. The thing is, I really am on their side. I know the kid can be a dick at times. I know he lies about homework. But work with us.
The Goddess cried all the way as walked home. She feels like she has failed. She hasn't, but those meetings can sure make you feel that way.
I met with the eleven-year-old. We talked for about an hour. I reiterated that he was grounded for a long time. We worked on an action plan. We discussed empathy and why he may feel like his "joking around" can be hurtful. I told him that we supported his teachers, that they wanted good things for him. I told him we loved him, but that middle school is where people begin deciding what kind of person they are going to be for the rest of their lives and that so far, he's made some terrible choices.
But I come away convinced that schools fail kids like our eleven-year-old. He's not a "teacher pleaser." He needs art and physical movement almost as much as he needs food and rest. He succeeds most when his instruction is hands-on. These teachers have been working with young adolescents for a long time but they still don't seem to understand some basic developmental issues. Their classrooms seem (from my single impression) pretty teacher-focused. I don't blame the teachers -- necessarily.
I also come away frustrated with my own parenting. I'm missing something in helping him learn to control his behaviors. My dad would've told me he needs an ass-whipping. That might give vent to my frustration, but it would just teach him that negative emotions are soothed by hurting others. (Yeah, I know a bunch of you will disagree there. That's okay.)
But middle school is just three years, right? How bad could it be?
Addendum: Mrs. T also made threats regarding the eleven-year-old's "permanent record." Really? Here's a tip for you non-educators: there's no such thing as a "permanent record." I mean, yes, schools keep educational records and you might even find an old disciplinary referral somewhere. But no one was ever kept out of Harvard because they got in trouble for throwing spit balls in 8th grade. Don't believe me? Call your old junior high and ask to see your "permanent record."
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