I have two things to say to my kids’ teachers
But first, a confession: I’m the mom who forgets to check the agendas
It’s officially the last week of school, and I have a confession to make.
I am the mom who doesn’t always check my kid’s school agenda every night.
I swear I try. But sometimes I just plain forget, distracted by homework and chores, dinnertime, clean up and bedtime, then getting everyone fed, dressed and out the door the next morning.
This means that throughout the school year I regularly miss things, like those field trip forms or tests requiring a signature, reminders to return overdue library books, or those yellow warning slips (the dreaded billet jaune) letting me know that my kid has been clomping around the gymnasium in his jeans and snow boots because I keep forgetting to pack him some shorts, a T-shirt and running shoes for gym class.
And so, I have two things to say to all teachers and school administrators out there on behalf of parents like me.
The first is that I’m really sorry for all that stuff I forgot to sign. The second is thank you, from the bottom of my heart.
It’s not easy to be a teacher or to run a school in today’s climate of increasing class sizes, budget cuts and squeezed resources. But you do it. Thank you for putting our kids first, and also for putting up with parents like me who are, from time to time, a little bit frazzled and disorganized.
Thank you for having high expectations for your students, and for going that extra mile to help them get there. Believe it or not, they will remember when they’re older even if they don’t appreciate it now. I had one particularly memorable math teacher in high school. We’ll call her Mrs. D. She was tough, and strict as hell. Looking back on it now, she was also one of the finest teachers I’ve ever had.
A bit of background: I hated math. Finite, algebra, calculus, even simple equations; I struggled with them all. Mrs. D. had no time for excuses. Any student who needed extra help in her classes was invited to meet her at 7:30 a.m. three times a week for extra tutoring. I did this for two years. It wasn’t fun. But I passed, and got the credits I needed to go onto university (where, let it be known, I never, ever studied math again).
It only occurs to me now just how committed she was to her students, how genuinely invested she was in our success. She wasn’t paid overtime. But she was there. I see this same kind of patience and dedication from many of the teachers my kids have been lucky enough to have over the years. To them, I say thank you.
Thank you for going above and beyond in organizing school trips, vernissages, sports tournaments, concerts and photo yearbooks.
Thank you for being role models. For some students, you may be the only adult they feel they can trust and confide in.
Thank you for making the classroom a positive and safe space to learn, experiment, question and explore.
Oh, and thank you for hollering at them to clean out their lockers. I can only assume this is why all my missing Tupperware is finally starting to trickle back home.
None of us expect much formal teaching to happen this week.
Secretly, we all know that the last week of school is meant for daydreaming about that languid expanse of time between June and late August. For kids, it’s about imagining an empty calendar filled with nothing but warm weather and green spaces, hazy summer nights when bedtimes are pushed later and later. One more bike ride up and down the sidewalk before the street lights come on.
For teachers and administrators, it’s some well deserved downtime.
Happy summer, everyone. And, hey, thanks again.