What Matters - Reflections After Parent-Teacher Conferences

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I always look forward to the day of parent-teacher conferences. There is something special about sharing what I have come to know about a child's learning with their parent(s) or guardian(s). And with twenty-five years experience of these meetings, I know that talking to someone else who cares about that little person can be powerful -- in sometimes unexpected ways.

Thursday past was no different.

While the stories differed in the details one thing became abundantly clear again.  What we say to children matters.  What we say about children matters.

Trying to capture the strengths and the concerns about academic progress we have observed each term, in the short space allotted on report cards, is always a challenge for teachers.  We are expected to create a record, a snapshot of where the child is, at this point in their school year and share it in terms clear to both families and other colleagues. The words we choose so carefully leave out the many ways we provided opportunities to become engaged with the content and to practice expected skills. It doesn't account for the many ways we now assess learning, the myriad situations in which we directly and indirectly observed the student.

Needless to say, communicating to the parents about that over each term is essential. There should be no surprises when the brown envelope is opened! That being said, sometimes parents react differently when the words about their child's progress, or the concerns about it, are in black and white.

We have to keep in mind that a parent reacts first and foremost on behalf of their child. When a parent tells you that their child thought being asked to writing conferences meant they weren't good enough, then something needs changed. It matters not what actually takes place - that every student has participated in those individualized sessions with me, nor that I know what we do and say in conferences is carefully constructive, somehow that child's perception has been framed a certain way and I have to do something about it.

That parents want and expect the best for their child sometimes is demonstrated in what we would see as unrealistic or unachievable goals. "I want him to get 5s this term."  His teachers know his reading is not (yet) at grade level.  We know he resists writing tasks -work- as much as he can.  Words like "inattentiveness" and "struggling" were on his report cards this year. Encouraging him to get to the level of achievement demonstrated so far has been a regular challenge.

But when we find out from Mom that he really loves to be out in the woods, that he spends time ice-fishing and hanging out with his grandfather whenever he can and that he will watch shows on the Discovery Channel, don't we have a means by which we might now engage him in school-based learning, too? Might it  now be possible to support him in ways not yet addressed and help him attain higher scores than he possibly thought attainable?

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Finding out things about your student that has not been shared through the phone calls or emails can sometimes be hard to hear, as we know their potential impact on a student's success. Separation of parents, a death in the family, a parent leaving to go away for work are not uncommon topics at parent-teacher conferences. Some things need to be shared in person. Such was the case when one mother explained her son's recently changed attitude and effort was a result of him standing up to a classmate who had bullied him for the last three years! That was a shock! We have a co-teaching team in the classroom this year and support teachers as well; none of us picked up that there was anything of that magnitude going on between these two.

It was hard to think that we missed that. It was hard to think of him in class worrying and we missed that. It was even harder to consider what we might have said ( even as nicely put as one does) about his lack of focus on what we were saying and/or doing at the time. It was hard to think how we let him down.

As vigilant as we may think we are, we do not see everything that goes on in our classrooms, hallways and other spaces where students gather. Things happen. And as caring as we know we are with our students, we have to ensure all our students understand how available we really are, how supportive we can really be  ...that our words are not empty. What we say and do every day with every child matters. We cannot ever be complacent about the words we espouse about building a safe and caring school community.

Letting our students know that we care is a goal, part of the everyday experience at the school where I am proud to work. In each and every corner of the school, the staff and students greet each other warmly, ask about and share thoughts about the weather, the hockey game, the lost tooth, the lost pet. From the principal's high fives in the Drop-off zone to the caretaker helping to find a sneaker to the teacher sitting by a desk at recess to review something, I can see countless acts of caring everyday.

As I walk through the corridors each day, I hear many positives from our parent community about how things roll at our school! What we say and do matters.

When a parent tells you that she hears everyday about the way you touched her child on the shoulder, that you smiled at her, that you liked her story... it matters not so much what scores she got on "problem solving" or "uses writing strategies" as it does about how she feels coming to school everyday willing to try her best because she knows we care about her. We gave her that smile.

That matters.

Pointers From the Playground

It's was one of those conversations that you're not meant to hear, though it was obviously not a private one. Some days sound really carries and this was one of those days.  I could easily hear the discussion between a parent and child at the playground across the street as I was near my fence doing some fall weeding on this quiet Saturday morning.  Though it wasn't until she was wanting to play on the structure nearer to me that I could hear the words of the girl and the replies of her father.

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This image is similar to the structure in the middle of our playground; I include it to help you visualize the choices this little girl had before her.  Unlike the 'kiddy' equipment she had been playing on, this piece has higher climbing surfaces, a fireman's pole and multi-levelled approaches to the various slides to accommodate the differing abilities and daringness of the older child.

At first I didn't notice anything except the laughter from a little girl who was moving around the various pieces of equipment with her dad following along behind.  They had the whole playground to themselves.

I was already struck by the fact that the father and child were talking a lot with each other; frequently parents sit on a bench and watch.  As they moved around to the front of the structure, I could easily overhear the interaction between parent and child. It went something like this:

Girl: Which one should I try?

Dad: Which one do you want to try?

Girl: The big pole.

Dad: Go on then.

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Girl: But I might fall!

Dad: Look, I'll do it first!

Girl: But I might fall. You've done it before.

Dad: I'll stand right next to it.

Girl: You won't move?

Dad: No, if you need me, I'll catch you!

Which he did the first few times.  

Through my fence, I heard her squeal of delight and the sound of her feet running up and around to try it again and again. 

Then I overheard something new; this next time she told her dad to stand back a little. He did. And she landed in a bit of a heap but un-fazed. Up she went again and again.

Her dad reminded her on how to position her body and use her feet but remained back and nearby.

"I did it! I did it!" 

I smiled and was struck by so many connections...so many thoughts:

*Isn't this the gradual release model we want for our kids in so many aspects of their lives, their schooling?

*Isn't it wonderful how he showed her first? (I think he enjoyed himself!)

*Don't we want our children to move confidently from the known into the less familiar, from the comfortably easy to the slightly more challenging?

*Isn't encouraging them to persevere part of our role? Isn't letting them know some things take practice, hard work, stick-to-it-ness? That sometimes there's bumps in life?

*Don't we want them to try new things they are truly interested in, even if they don't know how...yet? 

*Shouldn't they believe we (as parents and teachers) will catch them if they fall? Dust off their knees and help them with the next step?

*Shouldn't they know we have many ways to support them in their attempts ... pointers, information, ideas? 

*Isn't celebrating their accomplishments, especially the little ones, an amazing opportunity to show them we care?  

Dad (next to car): Oh, we said we were only going to be gone half an hour. We're a little late.

Girl: That's alright, Daddy. Mommy will understand when you tell her about the pole.

I'm sure hoping she does!

Positive Points and Parent Talks

I love parent-teacher conferences, especially in second term.  I have so much more to say and so much more stuff to share!  By now, personalities have emerged along with academic strengths and weaknesses.  By now, the class dynamic has settled into productive and manageable relationships and routines. And by this time of the year the students have grown into their own in terms of the projects and such in their portfolios.

When parents/guardians came to visit our classroom today they were greeted with Art displays, Wordles created about different aspects of our curriculum, the Beothuk village, poetry anthologies, Math posters, and a Science project about mass and volume.  I'd like to think that parents of the few students who may be going home saying "nothing" to that proverbial question about their day in school, were left with a clearer impression of what we have been up to lately.