Back when I was a teacher, before I had kids, I had little to no patience or sympathy for the parents who would bombard me with questions about how Little Johnny is doing in school and whether or not he is doing his homework and how he might be tired today because he stayed up late with his dad watching the Cubs game. My (tacit) reaction was that these parents should cut the umbilical cords and let me do my job and let the kids figure out school on their own. (I still believe this to an extent.)
But, now I find myself on the other side of the school desk. I have a kid in preschool, a kid whom I think I know better than the back of my hand. I know how he can be stubborn and loud and say things about farting at inappropriate moments. I know he needs to be reminded to get himself to the bathroom on time. I also know that he can be really sweet and sensitive. But I have no idea how he's behaving at school. The teacher says he's doing well, and I don't want to push it, but is he doing REALLY well? Is he doing all the things he's supposed to be doing? Does he listen? Does he ask to use the restroom? I'm tempted to ask all of these questions, everyday, but I don't. Because I know what it's like to be a teacher who resents those parents. But now I also understand how those kids, those kids who wiped their boogers on my desks and who wouldn't sit still and who couldn't (and probably still can't) tell the difference between "your" and "you're," were the sun, moon, and stars to their moms and dads.
And the moms and dads just wanted to be kept in the loop.
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