Last night I went to a parent teacher conference for one of my children. These always reassure me about how we are raising our kids.
All in all, he is doing great and I am a proud mama.
When I got home and had space to think (read: laying in bed, trying to fall asleep… it’s where I do my best deepest thinking, who needs sleep anyway?) something struck me about the conversation with that sweet teacher.
You see, this particular child is doing great, especially when he applies himself.
However, this kiddo can also act like a kid and rush through an assignment, get distracted, or maybe just not care as much as he should.
She discussed a few tactics of how she was going to keep him on track.
hallelujah!
(Do you think it would be too much to ask her to convince him that he must practice these skills at home while say… cleaning his room? I mean, practice makes perfect, right?)
I praised her for her efforts,
I praised her for her endurance,
and I praised her for sticking to her guns.
She looked a bit bewildered for a moment… it was like she was waiting for the next foot to drop.
Like maybe, I was going to follow up the praise with excuses or justifications.
There was moment of awkward silence.
(This is becoming more and more common in my life.)
Then she thanked me.
The rest of the conference was great but while I was trying to sleep last night, I just kept replaying that one particular piece of the conversation.
She. Thanked. Me.
Then it hit me…
teachers are not given the freedom to teach these days,
their hands are often tied, and parents are constantly breathing down their necks. How are we raising our kids?
We need to get out of the way and let teachers teach.
Now don’t get me wrong.. of course, as parents it is our job to protect our kids from harm and injustice.
I am, by no means, suggesting that you stop doing that.
(Be warned…I will show you a whole new level of cray cray if you are harming my child.)
