From the moment that I decided to become a teacher, I have naturally been extremely excited for the moment that I would get to have my own classroom. I used to imagine it. Facilitating in-depth conversations based on a text, decorating my classroom, creating and facilitating innovative activities, and of course, being the cool teacher. But, the one thing that I was definitely not looking forward to was the parents. I had heard so many horror stories. “They’re awful. They’re just awful.”, “I’ve never met a parent who was willing to consider the fact that their child is capable of wrongdoing.”, “I swear to God, I think I saw a parent’s head turn around mid-conference.”, “Avoid them at all costs.”. After hearing these comments, I was understandably terrified of parents.
I had done the very best I could to avoid communication with parents. I would tell my CT things that I wish I could say to parents, and just hope that she would take the hint. And, she always did. I was afraid that eventually, she would push me to talk to parents. After all, I am the teacher. It only makes sense for me to communicate with the parents. But, if she was not going to force me to, I was not going to try to. But, I knew that the time for me to finally make my first contact with parents was quickly approaching.
There is a student in my class who refuses to participate. He would come to class every day with his hood on, and earphones in. Additionally, he would sleep the whole period despite constant nagging from my CT and I. My CT had reached out to his mother via email at the beginning of the year, but she never responded. After seeing me completely give up on getting him to participate, my CT decided it was time for me to reach out to his mother. She called me over to her desk after class had ended. She had a sweet, suspicious smile on her face. I knew she wanted something from me. Something I did not want to give. “Ashley,” she started, “I know you’ve been avoiding this the whole school year…” “Mrs. Johnson…”, I start. “Just hear me out…I think you need to call John’s parent.” “MRS. JOHNSON!” I reply. “I know! I know!” she replied, “I hate doing it too. But, you’re going to have to contact parents when you have your own classroom. There’s no better time to start than the present.” She passed me the student information sheet with his mother’s contact information and shooed me out of the class.
I walked out of the classroom into the privacy of the teacher’s lounge. I rehearsed what I was going to say in my head maybe thirty times. I mustered up just enough courage to dial her number. A wave of relief washed over me when the phone went to voicemail. Great, she did not answer. I’ll leave a brief voicemail explaining who I am, what I am calling about, and where she can reach me. In the middle of me reciting my memorized speech, my phone began ringing. I felt my stomach drop when I recognized the number as John’s mothers’ number. Dang. I thought I avoided this. I give myself the shortest, but strongest pep talk I could in a matter of seconds. I took a deep breath and picked up the phone.
Me: …Hello?
Mrs. Brown: Hi, is this Ms. Aaron?
Me: Yes it is, thank you for calling me back.
Mrs. Brown: No problem, thank you for reaching out. I listened to your voicemail, and I had no idea that this was something John was doing!
Me: (nervously) Yes ma’am. He refuses to participate, and because of this, he has a 42 in the class. I wanted-
Mrs. Brown: A 42?! He has a 42?!
My stomach dropped again. Here it comes. I knew it was coming. She is going to yell at me, and question my quality as a teacher. Oh God, here it comes.
Mrs. Brown: Why does he have a 42? I just asked him how he was doing and he said he was doing fine.
Me: He is actually missing several assignments. I always remind him that he can turn in the work to boost his grade, but I think it goes in one ear and out the other.
Mrs. Brown: You know what, I need to be honest with you. I work overnight, so I am not at home with his as often as I would like to in order to stay on top of him. And knowing John, he is probably staying up all night on his damn Play Station, which would explain his sleeping in class.
I breathed a sigh of relief. This was not going as bad as I thought it would. It is actually going pretty well.
Mrs. Brown: Ms. Aaron, I am so sorry about how John has been acting. Please know that I will speak to him today when I get home. You will not have any problems out of him.
Me: Thank you so much for speaking to me, and working with me. And, please keep in mind that if there is absolutely anything I can do to help out, please do not hesitate to give me a call.
We ended the conversation there. I breathed another sigh of relief. That was not nearly as bad as I thought it would be. I walked back to Mrs. Johnson’s class with my head held high. I faced my fears. I talked to a parent about their child’s unacceptable behavior, and I did not combust. Who would have guessed? I learned that day that not all parents are going to be as pleasant as the one I spoke to. Yes, I will definitely get cursed out at some point in my career by a parent. Yes, a parent will probably bring into question my techniques and skills as a teacher. Yes, a parent will definitely hurt my feelings eventually. But, I also learned that not all parents are like that. The pleasant parents will far outweigh the meanies. And as long as I am appreciated by one parent, that makes all the encounters with non-pleasant parents worth it.
Teaching as Storytelling 