What can you deduce from these clues?

1. Kid asks if she can start staying after school with me every day of the week so I can personally fix all of her test-taking problems.

2. Work from absences three months ago is just randomly left on my keyboard-- sometimes, along with bribes of my favorite candy.

3. Parents suddenly start checking Precious's grades online every five minutes.

4. Parents have placed a call block on all numbers from the school district.

5. Parents unleash avalanches of emails questioning all 43 grades in the gradebook.

6. Parents and kids claim that they cannot comprehend my classroom website, particularly, that they can't find the list of deadlines ANYWHERE (it is under the tab called, strangely enough, DEADLINES).

7. Parents and kids start asking if kids can retake tests.

8. I start getting emails from aunts and grandmas.



Well? Have you guessed????


It's the end of the semester fast approaching!!!!

Tips for parent-teacher conferences

Who doesn't want to make parent teacher conference time go more smoothly?

Let's remember: you've probably worked all day and barely had time to grab a bite to eat, and then you sit and meet with parents rapid-fire in ten or fifteen minute increments.

So here's some tips:
1. Dress professionally in welcoming colors that flatter your skin tone. I like blue or green due to my coloring. Avoid red or black. Think about matadors and bulls, here.

If you can, don't wear your dressy clothes all day-- they will be wrinkled and possibly sweaty if your schools HVAC works as well as mine does. Wear comfortable clothes during the day, and then change after the kids leave.

Brush your teeth before the parents come, too.

2. Some fresh flowers are lovely to brighten up the room, and they smell nice, too, while not being as overpowering as other options to freshen the air.

3. I also like to keep a dish of hard candy (sugar free as well as fully leaded). It's a welcoming gesture.

4. Keep some blank paper or coloring books and crayons or markers for little brothers or sisters who may accompany mom and dad to the conference. This helps everyone concentrate on the conference at hand. Plus I then post those pictures(signed by the artiste) that kids leave me in my room, and you'd be surprised how much my big kids love this.

5.Start out positively. Name problems as challenges. If a kid doesn't turn in work, it's always effective to present a parent with signed "I didn't do my work" forms from the week. I recommend that every students give you either their assignment or one of these forms, so that you have something tangible so that parents can see the extent of the problem.

6. Do not allow one parent to monopolize an hour of your time. Stand up when the time is over, smile warmly, and say, "It's been lovely to speak to you, Mr. Pjhtwy; I hope you have a wonderful evening." And then, if you have to, walk to the door and possibly even out into the hallway.

7. Keep It Simple.

8. Don't argue. Realize that sometimes you and parents will never agree. Nonetheless, it is your classroom, and you have the right to expect reasonable behavior from your students. Do not agree to an intervention that puts the onus on you with all the other tasks you have to do unless there is a component built in for the student and the parents to buy in as well. For example, if the parents have access to grades online, and they actually HAVE that access, hold parents to that rather than agreeing to run a daily or weekly report. If you do that, you're still the only person who appears to care, and chances are the report won't get home anyway.

9. Parents who don't show up at conferences should be contacted via phone or even better email.

10. Prepare yourself to see parents wearing pajamas, parents wearing A-shirts, parents wearing clothing that would make a Vegas stripper blush, parents wearing slept-in sweats and no underwear (don't ask me how I knew this, just believe that I still have nightmares), parents who smell of alcohol and/or marijuana, as well as parents who dress and act professionally. Learn to school your expression so that you maintain outward calm.
Oh, and just because parents are dressed nice doesn't mean that the family is functional.

11. Do not assume that you're looking at Mom and Dad, or that names are the same. It's best to introduce yourself to each person. We have had people who were assumed to be one gender who turned out to be another, so don't make THAT mistake, either.

Oh, and make sure you get lots of rest afterward. You're gonna need it.

Gut Check

So you know I've been working most of the summer to lose some weight and get in shape. I'm not able to work out as much now that school is starting again, but I still have received some complements from coworkers for looking less massive. I've lost three pants sizes, and I know there's a ways to go, but still, it's progress.

But here's a conversation with my mother, who's visiting:

Scene: I walk out in dress clothes to head to work.

Madre: When was the last time you were checked by a doctor?
Moi: June, Mom.
Madre: Well, I want you to get some blood work. You look like someone I know who just had a ten pound tumor removed from their abdomen.

Yup. THERE'S a confidence builder for ya. I know that that poem about being an old lady who wears purple basically says that one can say and do whatever one wants, but, um.... really... that stung.

Well, must go now. I and my tumor are going to be late to "Meet the Teacher" Night.

Really? What POSSIBLY could have been more important?

I was working after school and heard a commotion outside my door. I figured it was just the softball team running laps of our Incredibly Large School, and though nothing of it. Then I heard a sob and a moan.

A girl was sprawled on the floor, gasping for air. After asking what the heck was going on, and getting someone to call for help, we started ministering to the girl. She apparently has an anxiety disorder and collapsed. She was also blistering hot, not sweating, and had her arms pulled up toward her chest in a way that reminded me of someone in a vegetative state.

After checking her over for any other obvious form of injury, I took her pulse surreptitiously, because she was sobbing and crying. It was pretty fast. As I spoke to her, I tried to calm her down. I asked if she has exercise induced asthma, and her friends said no.

So eventually, an administrator came running up along with one of our police officers, and a trainer, and her mother was called. As I talked to the girl, she suddenly lost consciousness for about ten to fifteen seconds, lids drooping halfway shut, eyes unfocused, body going limp. She would alternatively cry about her chest hurting, talk kind of nonsensically, and then be very clear and concise in explaining that she had taken her medicine and when. Then she went unconscious again, and repeated the entire cycle. At that point, the administrator decided to call 911, thank God. He stayed cool and collected the entire time, and made decisions quietly and authoritatively. He betrayed no panic, which I appreciated, nor was he overly dramatic about the situation.

So we tried to keep her awake, calm her down, cool her down, and comfort her. We tried distracting her with humor when she was particularly lucid. The paramedics arrived and checked her over. After about thirty minutes from the time she had fallen in the hallway, she was placed on a stretcher and taken to the ambulance, crying all the way.

And here's the insane part: the mother never came to check on this girl, even though the house was nearby and mom was there. The coach came and looked at her for about two minutes, and then went back to conducting practice.

WTH? Really.

So I haven't heard how it all came out. I assume she is okay, but I don't really know the girl. I will tell you it was pretty scary once she lost consciousness.

God! I love the smell of napalm in the morning!

As the smoke clears from the battlefield, and the helicopter blades churn the air overhead I just have one thing to say:

Dear Parent:

I am concerned about your son, too. But thirteen emails, plus a letter to the principal, plus three requests relayed through the counselor, plus four requests from the caseworker asking for feedback in 9 days is a bit much. I and the other teachers have responded to each one of these as quickly as we can.

I have observed and counseled and worked one-on-one with your son. But you need to understand that I am not supposed to be checking my email during instructional time. Instructional time means time I spend actively instructing students. That would mean your child-- plus one hundred and two other young people who are just as beloved by their parents and who deserve just as much of my attention. I am sorry the counselor was sick and did not respond to your emails immediately, but she... was... sick. Nearly hospitalized even, not that that is really anyone's business.

Meanwhile, you haven't spoken directly to your son. Please back away from the computer, and try this, after taking a deep breath. We all want what is best for him.

Sincerely,
Ms. Cornelius

Speechless... but the mighty text message rolls on

I have just had something happen that completely flummoxes me. Perhaps I am just a fossil hopelessly ourt of step with the times, but I think not.

I just had a parent textmessage their child to tell them a very close relative died.

I am appalled. Perhaps I am too sensitive.

But! Can't you get on the phone and call my room and ask to speak to your child or have them called down to the office so that you can tell them something like this in your own voice?

This young person was devastated.

We have a no cellphone rule that I am usually quite the stickler about. However, if a child has a true emergency, I say turn the thing on vibrate and place it up close to your body after checking with me. That's how this young person got the text message.

Well, at least they didn't use emoticons or those ridiculous abbreviations.

And now, a reprise of a favorite category: Stalker Mom

We've all had them-- those parents who just seem a little... off. Well, lucky me has one of them already this year, and everywhere I go, there she is, creepier than Billy Ray Cyrus' soul patch.

I go to the school office, and there she is. Sometimes she'll be overwhelmingly talkative in a completely random way.

I go to my car, and there she is in the parking lot. Yesterday, with 8 million spaces to choose from, I just step out to walk from my car, and she pulls into the space I"M WALKING IN. I had to nimbly jump out of the way while she looked at me blankly, obviously a coupla fries short of a Happy Meal.

I guess I should be grateful: the last of this species I had lived just down the street from my house, and her favorite habit was to block my car into the driveway as she tried to hold a parent-teacher conference about some 10 point assignment from four months ago as I was trying to leave the house. Once she even did this while my little white-haired Momma shivered in the February gloom.

At least this person doesn't live near me. But it's not good that she's very involved in our district, because good gawd, sometimes she's all over me like a cat on catnip, and then other times, she's a zombie.

It may make for an interesting year, as in the Chinese curse, "May you live in interesting times."

Whose fault is it? Let's seeeeee....

I was standing in an interminable line at the license bureau. I was shifting my weight from foot to foot, trying to keep my cool.

There was woman there wearing scads of Ralph Lauren, lovely pearls, perfectly coiffed hair-- which in Midwestern humidity is quite a feat.

Two adorable little boys were there too. Thick blonde hair, cut in that cute little preppy style. Seersucker shorts. Izod shirts.

They were the loudest, most obnoxious little hellions I have seen in a month of Sundays-- ever since the lamented youthgroup incident.

They lay on the incredibly filthy floor and rolled around looking for a quarter that supposedly rolled under the Pepsi machine. Their hands turned black. The smaller one had an off-center Hitler mustache from the grime. The older one ran up and down the line holding on to the velveteen rope that created lanes for all of us poor saps waiting for the next available clerk and pulling the dividers over. Their mother kept calling them over and they laughed and completely ignored her. Over and over again. I heard their incredibly preppy little names over and over again and their little demonic laughs as they did WHATEVER THE HELL they wanted. She asked this little one five times to come over so she could clean his grimy little mug.

I finally had enough. Being a mom, I dug in my purse for the kleenex dispenser. I pulled out two, and the next time the smallest demon prince zipped by, I said, "Here, sweetie, wouldn't you like this? And ooh, you could use it to clean your face. Let's see you try it!" and the little blister actually took the kleenex and wiped at his face. The mother turned around and gaped at me. I said to her, "Now's the time to grab him," and she came out of the fog and did it. It was a miracle. Right at that moment, the clerk finished the airhead's paperwork, she dragged her two little monsters out, and the older gentleman in front of me insisted I go ahead of him.

I've seen kids like this before. And this will be the only time I will ever reference Paris Hilton in this blog.

Behind every Paris Hilton, there is some idiot parent who has no interest in treating their children as anything but fashion accessories or breathing dress-up dolls.

Mea culpa--I'm so sorry school is interfering with your child's life.

I recently got the most charming email from a parent, asking me to postpone a test in one of my college credit classes (which has been on the class schedule since the first day of school) because his son is in the orchestra for the school musical. And BTW, this parent sent me the email the day before the test was scheduled. This person noted that his son had chosen to be involved in this project, and of course he should take responsibility for his choices and make sure he can handle them, but, and I quote, "isn't it really a teacher's job to encourage students to be involved in activities outside of school?" He concluded with the suggestion that if I couldn't move the test, perhaps I could shorten it. The parent also stated that he had talked this over with other parents, and they agreed. So he was sort of carrying the standard, if you will, for a groundswell of opinion.

Kind of like Pickett's Charge.

Now frankly, I think the first part of his initial statement actually answered his own question, but he still decided to push on with the email, so I responded.

Being a prudent person who doesn't just shoot her mouth off without counting to ten in several languages, I gently responded to this parent's email with a firm answer in the negative accompanied by my reasons why. But here's what I really would have liked to say:

Dear Mr. J. L. Seagull,

I am so sorry for any distress that the scheduling of the test caused you, although your son has not said a word to me himself. The test has already had to be rescheduled once due to a school closing for inclement weather, and it is impossible to reschedule it again barring another Act of Nature. I would love to consider moving the test simply to accomodate your son, but I need some help accomplishing this scheduling deviation, since in the last three weeks your son has handed me eight (and this is no exaggeration) permission slips for field trips or activities which will necessitate your son missing my class over the next six weeks. Today he handed me yet another one, as I was pondering your emailed request.

He is going on a three-day band trip to Indiana, two track meets, one student government symposium, one trip to an amusement park allegedly to do physics experiments while riding roller coasters (upon my honor!), one trip to a Mexican restaurant with his Spanish class, one to a yearbook convention, one to schedule appointments at a blood drive, and one to excuse him from class to assist with Special Olympics. The one he gave me today was to go to a local museum. Some of these are worthy causes, and others are just inane wastes of instructional time. Nonetheless, I can see no time to reschedule the examination during a class period long enough to complete the test when your son will actually be here except for the date upon which it is already scheduled, which is why it is scheduled for that date.

Further, as a teacher yourself in our district, you doubtless understand that I have other students to consider besides just your son and the four other students taking part in the school play. These other students also have numerous other activities and field trips scheduled from now until the end of the school. Moreover, as you are also aware, the standardized tests required under NCLB will begin soon, and we are not to give any tests nor homework during the testing days.

Nonetheless, the problem here is beyond the disregard for my instructional time and my professional judgement which is evinced. The real problem here is that you and your son are unable to prioritize. You have allowed him to be severely overscheduled, and now you want me to enable and facilitate your error.

Additionally, while I find being in the orchestra for a school musical to be a fun activity to do, having done it myself, I am going to disagree with you about one other contention. It is actually not my JOB to encourage your son to participate in the school play, any more than it is the job of the drama teacher to encourage your son to do well in my class-- indeed, if that was the case, we would not be having this discussion.

I am employed as a history teacher, not as an activities coordinator. It is my job to prepare your son for not only this assessment, but to prepare your son as much as I can for the advanced placement test-- a job which frankly is made nearly impossible by the amount of instructional time he is going to be missing in the next few weeks. I wonder if you plan to write to the College Board to demand that they move and/or shorten the AP exam, since it will occur four days after his trip to Indiana? If so, please cc to me your email and the response of the College Board to your request, as I am curious as to the outcome of such a gambit.

Since we are on the subject of jobs, here is a key point thus far overlooked, although crucial, nay vital: it is YOUR job and the job of your son as a burgeoning adult to take on only as many activities as he can comfortably handle. As a student with high aspirations for college, he needs to learn this lesson now. Your son chose to take my class, and yet, of all his activities, he has shown the least dedication to this class in terms of priorities.

Finally, respectfully, I must say that the day I make decisions as to the scheduling of assessments or any other regular instructional activity subject to parental consensus is the day I look forward to you giving me veto power over the quantity, quality, and timing of your son's activities.

Sincerely,
Ms. Cornelius

Too much 411-- thanks for sharing!

I would like to write an open letter to a parent with whom I have had much correspondence.


Dear Mrs. Munchausen,

I am sure your daughter has been truly sick the last nine times she has been absent or late to school. Really. But I do not need to know every. single. gory. detail. of her unwellness.

Thus far this week you have vivdly described her menstrual cramps in the subject line(!) of email correspondence to me. In the subject line! Those details about your child are now stored on who knows how many servers!

In the past few months, you have assured me that your child has had diarrhea, fevers, hives, anaphylactic shock, and three bouts of the stomach flu, all in amazingly gory technicolor detail. It has gotten to the point where I am afraid to open any emails from you for fear of losing my (non-existent) breakfast-- no doubt in a dull and pedestrian manner compared to the projectile vomiting fit you described to me last month. (You see, to me, this is an act which I do not do well, whereas you seem to view it as a form of performance art.) You have reported to me every single stomach cramp your child has had since December.

Please, allow your child some shred of dignity. I am certain she would be mortified to know that her teacher has so much intimate knowledge of her bodily emissions.

Sincerely,
I'm A Teacher, Not an Internist



Ahh. I feel better now. Have you ever had this happen to you? Does it make you a wee bit suspicious? Or am I the only person cursed to have parents with no sense of personal space?

"The world is made for people who aren't cursed with self-awareness."*

Let me now recount to you, beloved readers, one of my favorite anecdotes from recent parent-pedagogue parleys. Apparently, I, alsoomse, and sciguy, who posted much briefer versions of this conversation in the comments to my post about chasing my own tail, have the same students.

The scene: The eleventh hour of a day that I have spent in a moldering classroom in clothes that are wilted versions of pressed business attire. Bloodshot eyed, our intrepid heroine clutches a mug of tea and proffers a bowl of mints toward a parent and student with a small smile.

Parent: We just don't understand why Popsie has a D-.
Ms. Cornelius: Popsie doesn't always demonstrate understanding of the material. First, Popsie has told me he doesn't read the material in the textbook. He just hunts around for the answers.
Popsie: I don't like to read. I read slow.
Parent: I read slow too. Popsie comes by it naturally.
MC: Popsie, you will always read slowly if you don't practice by actually reading. And it certainly takes longer to hunt for the answers than to actually sit down and read the 5-6 pages all the way through. (Thereupon MC suggests several small tricks for increasing reading speed-- and MC had earlier broached the question of whether Popsie had ever been tested for a reading disablility, and the answer was yes to the testing and no to the disability.) I could help you more if you could stay after school for some coaching.
Parent: Can't you just tell students what is in the book?
MC: (In her head: "No, because that would just make the textbook a great expensive place to rest one's head whilst napping.) No. That would just encourage the kids who are reading their book not to read their book, and it would actually increase the amount of homework everyone has. Do you ever see Popsie study?
Parent: No... But still, why does Popsie have a D-?
MC: (Repressing sigh) Popsie, when I ask you if you understand everything we've covered today, what do you say?
Popsie: (silence)
MC: Do you let me know when you don't understand?
Popsie: No....
MC: Popsie, how many other kids are in the class?
Popsie: Almost thirty.
MC: Right, so I can't ask Popsie fifteen times (without embarassing him) if he needs help if he won't tell me the truth. Now Popsie's average on quizzes and tests is 54%. And when the bell rings at the end of class, Popsie is the first out the door. Did you study for the last quiz, upon which you earned a 42%?
Popsie: No, I didn't understand it....
MC: Did you stay after school with me so that I could help you? I am here every day for thirty minutes to one hour.
Popsie: No....
MC: Did you stay with the Homework Club?
Popsie: No....
MC: Did you try using the internet?
Popsie: I don't like the internet.
MC: (Trying to keep from looking heavenward in mute appeal, I try another tack.) Popsie's response questions grade average is a 72%.
Popsie: Yeah, when you grade my questions you always mark some of them wrong.
MC: Sometimes they ARE wrong. And sometimes they're not finished. But what else do I do?
Popsie: You write suggestions for where to find the correct answer next to the wrong answers.
MC: Do you ever attempt to look up the correct answers?
Popsie: No.... But I like it when you talk in class. But then I don't remember.
Parent: So why does Popsie have a D-?
MC: Because Popsie hasn't done any of the many things that would change that D- to something else.
Popsie: I don't like having a D-.
MC: Do you not like it enough to actually do something to change it?

And that's the way it is. Apparently, just because Popsie is here every day, he should get at least a C. I give this conversation a three out of four possible extra-strength tylenol rating. Because that's how many it took to make the throbbing go away. Can you chase three tylenol with a glass of wine? Darn.



Extra points to the reader who can tell me the source of the title of this post.