As y’all know, I am trying to do as much as I can while I get ready to get ready for my first year of teaching. One of my things that I want to do is compose a parent letter to introduce myself, let the parents know what to expect, to get contact information, etc., etc., blah, blah, blah. N-e way, I happened upon this tongue-in-cheek parent letter written by tamasha. This letter comes with a word of caution from tamasha to not actually send it. Just write it to get your frustration out. With her permission, I have printed it here for you to laugh at and enjoy. Hopefully, you’ll enjoy it as much as I did.
It is more likely than not that, as his teacher, I have a great deal of affection for your child. I might, in my own way, even love him (but don’t count on it – I might not even like him). However, unlike you, I do not worship your child. I will not believe everything he says (and you will be upset when I don’t), but I will believe much of it (and you will be upset that I do, especially if it makes you look bad). I will not cater to his every whimsy or acknowledge his every complaint (especially if it’s about homework).
But, I will do my best (which might not be that good because this year it’s based mostly on instinct) to make your child feel safe and comfortable and happy and loved (or at least liked, even if it’s really just tolerated) in my classroom. Which is more than some of you can say about your homes, despite their size (huge) and addresses (swanktastic).
Unfortunately, with some of you I will never win. If I don’t give your child enough homework that means he is not challenged enough, he’s not learning anything, you’re paying all this dough for nothing. If I give him too much homework I’m stifling his creativity, taking away from family time, soccer, violin, or gymnastics. Interestingly, there is never “just the right amount” of homework.
If I inform you that your child is struggling with attention / timeliness / organization / abstract thinking / empathy I am complaining, hurting his feelings. If I don’t inform you of this, I am not communicating well enough.
Lucky for me, as the “hired help,” I only have to teach your child for ten months. You’ve got him for as long as you both shall live.
With the utmost sincerity,