Dear Teacher

Allison J from over at the Imperfect Blog asked her readers for feedback on what they really wanted from a teacher. My thoughts were too much for a comment box, so here goes….

Dear Mrs. Teacher:

Thank you for doing a job I could not be paid enough to do. Thank you for choosing to love children and persevere through days of tantrums, scissor fights, and potty training. Thank you for exposing yourself to every known communicable disease and still showing up. Believe it or not, I truly respect your influence on my child and the contributions you make to our community.

Please know that, deep down, I realize that my child does not poop rainbows and puke butterfiles. However, since she sprouted from me four and a half years ago, I see her as a reflection on me, my abilities as a parent, and my capacity as a human being. I know that’s a huge load for a 4.5 year old, but she’s got some pretty broad shoulders and I’m saving up for her therapy.

So, when she makes a new friend, she becomes my Miss Congeniality (complete with sash and roses).When she discovers that numbers mean something, she’s my Albert Einstein. When she learns to tie her shoes, I’ll start looking for colleges with great engineering programs.

Yes, deep down, I know my kid is not THAT special, but to me, she is. Bear with me. I know I’m a pain in the ass and I ask way too many questions, but if you give me what I need, you’ll get what you need.

Need more paper towels, construction paper, books, A/V equipment? Tell me. Don’t waste my time by making me hock wrapping paper and cookie dough to every unsuspecting co-worker who’s crazy enough to walk into my office in October or March. Let’s cut out the middle man. Tell me what you need. I’ll do what I can for you. There are others who share my dogma and we’ll pool resources. I don’t have that many presents to wrap and, sure as hell, my ass needs cookie dough like I need a hole in the head.

Also, lay it on me. I know my kid can be a bossy, know-it-all pain in the arse (I have NO idea who she gets THAT from…it must have skipped a generation). If we need to work on something at home, please don’t wait until we have to have a parent/teacher conference to figure out what we’re going to to to fix “the problem.” You’ve been around the block enough to know what’s worth a raised eyebrow and what warrants a time out. If you need reinforcements from me, just say the word. I got your back.

So, dear teacher, all I ask is for some open lines of communication. You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours and we’ll have her pooping rainbows in no time.

Love,

Fear and Parenting in Las Vegas