More Coffee, Please

Usually, sitting down with a parent is a bad sign. At MRHS, when things were going well with a student I never heard from a parent—with the occasional exception of an email telling me I was their son or daughter’s favorite teacher. Although heart-warming (and occasionally the only thing keeping me sane or working) it was a far cry from regular communication.

Most of the parents I actually sat down with were having trouble—or more specifically, their kids were having trouble. These meeting were usually hard, usually with the child staring morosely ahead, while a bunch of adults tried to find a solution for kid who was miserable. I saw parents cry at those meetings, but it was always out of frustration—not knowing how to help their child who just couldn’t get it right.

So even though I know that I’m going to spend the next two weeks recovering from Documentation Week,¹ I’m glad MC² has a different way of involving the parent (though we do have the tough meetings as well, but I’ll get to that) where they get to see the kind of growth teachers have the chance to celebrate. I’m always shocked when I hear how some parents will treat their children—it’s like they still think of them as 9—and there’s no doubt why. All they ever see of their child is the same individual who used to steal cookies and make a mess in their diapers.

Exhibitions are different. Probably about the same quality as many of the senior project presentations at MRHS, it’s a 45 minute (or longer) discussion of what the child learned over the course of the quarter, with the student offering proof of their learning. It might be assessments from staff, work they did, or anything else appropriate, but it centers on the student’s growth (or lack thereof—not everyone passes) and provides parents a chance to see their kid in a new light, and even more importantly, to know what their child has been doing.

Do you have a teenager who mutters “nothing” when asked about what they did at school? Yeah—that kid gets up and talks to mom and dad for nearly an hour about their work, what they plan to do in the next quarter, what their challenges are, and what they’re proud of. It’s wonderful to see—especially when the student really steps up.

As a teacher, sitting next to a few parents and hearing dad exclaim “Wow!” at what his daughter has done—sitting next to mom as she tears up watching how much her daughter has grown—to watching mom and dad work out a plan to get their kid through the next couple of months with some success and (ideally) a better attitude—these are the moments which really make the job worthwhile. School should be something for the whole family, a chance for them all to connect with one another as another well trained adult enters the real world. It shouldn’t be a place where the family feels at mercy of a system they did not create and have no control over.

But it’s just as great for the kid. Wonder and magic is watching a quiet child stand up and say, “I finally know what a community is supposed to be. At Monadnock I just kept my head down and tried not to get hurt—here, a community is a group of people who work through their problems together.” Joy is watching a child who has struggled with a subject stand up and say, “I’m really proud of myself for what I’ve done in this class.” How often does school make a child feed good, rather than making them feel like one more number in the seat?

It’s not all ideal. We have parents who help their children cheat—who will rate their child far higher than they are, rather than being honest. It’s a common misconception among parents, that helping their child in such a way will help them in the long run, but it doesn’t. We have parents who go through the motions, who don’t want to be there. Nothing is perfect, and there are holes here as well. We have the kids who can’t work here, who can’t bend themselves enough to get past their block and reach towards the sun. Those conversations are long, they are hard, and they don’t always end up with the end that we would like to see.

But they happen.

As high schools move towards a competency based curriculum ² there really is a chance to bring this into the traditional model as well. If there is going to be a standard met, then there should be moments where the child shows they met that standard, and mom and dad should see this. Allowing the parents into the classroom two or three nights a year could not hurt the community, but could really help.

Parents are our partners—they ought to be part of the conversation.

1 We don’t do report cards like a usual school, a bunch of numbers and letters on a sheet of paper and a few comments chosen from a list. Students at MC² are responsible for their own learning and keeping track of it, which means they need time at the end of the quarter to assemble and write the documentation proving they learned what they should. It takes the load off of me as the teacher to grade it all and assemble it, and puts the responsibility where it should be—on the student. Of course, I then have to go through all that paperwork and make sure they did their job, but I like students are responsible for knowing what they did, or did not, do. ↺

2 This conversation did hit some snags this week, and though there were moments of hope it was a bit frustrating as well. More on that, later. ↺

Gregarious

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