That One Time I Held My Tongue

I am a teacher. I began teaching when I was 23 years old, but my mom would tell you it started much earlier than that, teaching my stuffed animals about classroom procedures, math and how to properly read a book. (I was a bit uptight and strict seven year old.) I also consider myself an advocate for students in education, researching, reading, learning and encouraging others to implement good first instruction, quality curriculum, but mostly literacy with authentic applications. Over the last few years, I have been given opportunities to present and teach educators at conferences with CUE, the Writing Project and other local organizations, passing along my passion for doing what is right for children.

But I’m also a parent. I have a 14 and 12 year old in the public school system. My 14 year old does school well. She knows how to play the game, even when she thinks the rules are ridiculous. She can learn from anyone, even a teacher who left a packet of worksheets on her desk with a bold face due date and no instructions. She can figure it out. I’ve always believed she could learn in a room full of just books. She loves learning. I’ve never worried about her.

My 12 year old learns constantly on his own, as well, but he would forget the packet of worksheets the moment he got home. He would be too busy experimenting with dry ice or making masking tape sculptures from videos he saw on Youtube. School isn’t hard for him, but organization and the “rules” of school often elude him. With him, I have to pay close attention: check the planner, check the online grade book.

My conundrum: what do I do when I see the assignments my son brings home as nothing but busy work? What do I do when a grade for participation is labeled “assessment” in the gradebook? What do I do when my son scores 100% on every quiz, then fails the test? What do I do when his teachers’ policy is no retakes of tests, nor can he review tests to check what he did wrong? What do I do when I see my own kids’ teachers practicing instruction and assessment that seem ineffective and lacks rigor or engagement?

I do nothing. Nothing. Because I know my son needs to learn the game to be successful.  I know my son respects and adores his teachers. I know that his relationship with his teachers is far more important than his grade. I know I have done some crazy things teaching, too. I know that he still loves school, so I can’t mess that up for him.

Sometimes you need to forget you’re a teacher and be a parent, sitting on your hands and holding your tongue.

One thought on “That One Time I Held My Tongue

  1. As I sit here awake at 3am with my first born, I’m reading this through new eyes. I imagine being a teacher gets that much harder when you’re the parent of a child in school!

    Great piece, Kristina! And I’m glad I stumbled upon (yet another) post that features your common thread, your mom!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *