[the student] “Complains” About Me, Too

The Player

We had talked. Oh, boy, had we talked. “Your child did this.” “Your child said that.” “I’m concerned about your child’s lack of focus.” “I know how smart your child is, but your child’s just not putting in the effort necessary to master the skills needed for next year.” Phone calls, emails, report cards, letters: [the parent]’s child had an attitude, wasn’t afraid to show it, and seemed to delight in sharing it with the rest of the class. Even though I also tried to tell [the parent] about good things the child was doing, it didn’t matter. It got to where I was leaving voice messages and [the parent] was, most of the time, not responding.

The Setup

[the parent] walked into the classroom with an aggressive stride and a frown. I called that morning and was surprised my call was answered. “I’m wondering if you might be able to come in to the school today. I have some concerns about your child. I know we’ve talked on the phone about your child but I think this conversation needs to happen face-to-face.”

No parent wants to hear that from a teacher over the phone. No parent. But [the parent] set an appointment for later that afternoon right after the students had gone home for the day. The conference was set.

The Sequence

I began our conference talking about good things [the parent]’s child had said or done. “Your child’s performance on the last few math assignments has been much better. I’ve been giving partial credit for work that gets done so that should reflect in the grade. It’s always fun to watch your child interact with classmates. The other students really seem to flock to your child and want to be a part of whatever your child has going on.”

[the parent]’s eyes were still angry; [the parent]’s shoulders were still tense; [the parent]’s arms were still crossed; [the parent]’s feet were still pointed at the door. Saying good things about the student hadn’t softened anything up or broken the ice, even though every word I had said was 100% true.

“I called you today beause your child has begun to take things from the classroom that belong to me.” I pulled out today’s example: the 26-sided die from my desk. It was a bright, primary color, just right for classroom use.

I told the story. “A classmate saw your child take this die out of the manipulative cabinet. Another classmate reported your child running around on the playground bragging about stealing it from the classroom. Still another student came back to the classroom in tears after reminding your child it’s not appropriate to take things that don’t belong to you.”

[the parent]’s eyes grew colder, with a malicious gleam. The look was noted because I had seen it in [the parent]’s child’s eyes before. I was finished. I waited.

The Denouement

I truly don’t remember the first couple of sentences [the parent] spoke. Here’s the one I remember: “You know, my child complains about you, too.” This was said almost gleefully, as though [the parent] had just scored enough “points” for whatever “win” [the parent] was after.

I didn’t hesitate. I responded, “I’m not surprised. In fact, I’d be surprised if your child didn’t complain about me. I’m hard on your child. I know how intelligent your child is and just how successful your child is when your child works to get better at things. Unfortunately, those instances of hard work don’t happen very often and seem to be decreasing in frequency.”

[the parent] now had a mostly blank, but slightly disappointed look. Knowing our conference was at its end, I asked if there were any questions. None were forthcoming. Then, after I expressed appreciation for any and all help that came from the home (past, present, and future!), [the parent] got up and kind of shuffled to the door.

The Moral

It’s hard for a child to learn at school when the teacher is seen as “the enemy.”