Dear Teacher, I Am "That Parent"
That's right, people. That would be me.
I am the parent who called the preschool teacher because her daughter came home in tears, and I needed to know why.
I am the parent who introduces letter and number recognition to two-year olds.
I am That Parent, whose preschooler will read, whose kindergartener will write, whose children will understand basic math before Grade One.
I am the parent who calls the Yellow Bus dispatch when the bus is 20 minutes late, and expects an explanation.
I am the parent who calls the school. Often. Who knows the teachers and teachers-aides by first and last name, and often their children's names, favorite hobbies, and educational background.
I am That Parent who will keep you on the phone longer, and will send follow-up comments by email. I will ask more questions than you want to answer. I will take up your time, even though I know exactly how precious time can be.
I don't do this to be discourteous. The fact that I trust you with my children at all belies a deeper respect for you than I could ever adequately express with words. When I thank you, I mean it. When my eyes fill with tears of pride, I know the value of your contribution to my child's accomplishments. My children will be respectful and well-behaved in your class and, if they fail in that regard, they will be held accountable. They will never hear me question your methods or your objectives because, as new as I am at this, I know that once divided we will fall.
My point is that we're all in this together. We have a lot to learn from each other.
So, we might as well take our time.
Photo Credit: seanhackbarth.
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