I came home from work today steaming. I was so angry, so frustrated, so pissed. Why? Because of parents. Yes, parents. The worst part of teaching.
I have some parents who are amazing. They follow through, help their child without actually doing the work, and support me 100% by just being on my side. Most parents fall into this category. They realize that teaching is a job, and for many, a job they’d admittedly never be able to do and stay sane! I love these parents and truly hope that I am in this category for my own son’s teachers.
But then there are the other parents. Those breeders who copulated with some other human and created an offspring whom they could care less about. Those mommies who still wipe their little darlings’ butts. The helicopter parents who want so much to be the “cool parent.” These parents drive me to consider leaving teaching multiple times a year. They are, by far, the worst aspect of being a teacher.
Last year’s students were rough. At six years, four of which were severely inner-city, they were the hardest class I’d had. The parents were a little rough too. I had the anxiety-ridden tweaking kid who, being in my “high” math class, lived under the same roof as Mr. and Mrs. Military. Their child would literally incapacitate himself with anxiety if he was unable to grasp a concept. After one quiz, I wrote on his paper, “Did you study?” I received an email from his Corporal Mother asking how dare I write such a thing on her child’s paper when it should be obvious that he did study. Rather than inquiring if I could offer some suggestions on how to better study (because apparently the chosen method had failed miserably) I was considered in the wrong by the Squad Sergeant. Compared to the parents I have this year, this instance was tame.
Another parent was absolutely certain that her precious little cabbage patch child was being bullied and I was doing absolutely nothing to stop Precious from being emotionally scarred for life. In all honesty little miss Priss was an instigator and Mommy Dearest couldn’t bear being wrong.
This year I’m seeing more and more of the latter parent. Parents who swear their child is a victim. Innocent. Can do no wrong. Is that really how we are raising children these days? By telling them they are perfect and are to be trusted over adults?
I don’t think so.
Today my son was placed in timeout for throwing mulch at his teacher. Did I question the punishment? No. Did I question the teacher’s story? No. By choosing to send my kid to the day care, I have chosen to trust in the teacher’s ability to educate, discipline, and care for my child. While at school, my child is expected to treat his teachers as he would treat me and his father.
So why do so many parents assume that the teachers are the bad guys? Do they expect that I treat each child as though they are the only one in the class? Should I spend my teaching time dealing with each child’s personal issues. Let’s get real! As adults our bosses do not coddle us, and we can’t start coddling our youth as they transition into middle school.
Teachers must be tough and parents must be tougher. It’s that simple. Parent your child so that I can teach your student.
What types of parents have you encountered as a teacher? Share your horror story below!
An outfit to keep you sane during the transition from an Indian summer to a true autumn:
Warm up a summer dress with boots, frilly boot socks, and simple (pearl, gold, silver) versatile jewelry. Orange is a great transition piece to pair with brown! Add a pop of teal or purple to brighten up the colors.