#memorablemomentsineducation #26:
Parent/Teacher conference season is upon us, and I’ve had some doozies! I actually miss conferences now that I don’t get to do them. One minute you’re getting chewed out and the next you have a mom crying about how important you are to her kid. I never knew what I was gonna get, but I was invariably guaranteed some eye-opening experiences and a chance to gain insight on how my students ended up a certain way.
You won’t believe this story, but I swear this is exactly how it went down.
I must have been in my second or third year of teaching, so let’s just say I had no clue how to talk to parents, especially those who’d lived long enough to have teenage children, given that I wasn’t much past those teen years myself. The dad of a young woman–sixteen years old, who’d already lived through two abortions, some drug addiction, and countless other issues–showed up like any other affluent, white, middle-aged man to talk about his daughter. He obviously cared about her and her education, enough to leave his VP-level corporate job early so he could meet his daughter’s teachers. At the time, we held individual conferences in our classrooms (something that most schools don’t do anymore for fear or likelihood an altercation may ensue with no one else present). I’m sure I had only a couple conferences that night, so I was excited to talk to somebody, anybody! I love gabbing it up with parents (at least when they’re not mad at me), and this dad and I were chatting away when I happened to ask whether his daughter had recovered from her illness since she’d had a stomachache earlier and spent quite a bit of time in the bathroom. That was all I said, and within an instant he told me, “I have to go.” He stood up and walked out the door. I sat stunned, wondering what I’d said.
Later, I shared the incident with my much wiser colleague Jules, and he mused that I had unknowingly broken the news to this father that his 16-year-old daughter was pregnant again. It wasn’t until then that moment the thought even crossed my mind, and yet it was so obvious and I was so naive.