I could name many parts of daily responsible adult life to be considered a milestone of my realization that I'm a grown up. Every day I don't choose ice cream for breakfast is a clear sign of my maturity. Mail no longer holds wonderment and excitement for me, I even stream my Netflix on my TV so I don't even look forward to that anymore. The first time I realized summer wasn't a vacation it was just another work day, is also a harsh realization that childhood was over. I think it was when I stepped into the time honored tradition of writing notes to the teacher, I officially realized I am the grown up.
My father was great at crafting the perfect note to the teacher. Having a proud last name at the end of the alphabet holds certain challenges. Teachers being naturally orderly people like to alphabetize. So year after year, teacher after organized teacher my siblings and I found ourselves in the back of the classroom, at the end of the line, last to choose a soft pretzel at snack time. My brother had enough he complained to my father. My brother was tired of being left only the shriveled slimy soft pretzels after his whole class got to choose their perfect pretzels first. My father tired after working all day and tired of hearing this complaint day after day wrote a note to my brother's teacher.
The note was short and simple. "Please stop feeding my son slimy pretzels. He doesn't want to be last to choose any more." The teacher looked at my 7 year old brother and asked,"Is your father serious?" My wide eyed brother responded, "Yes, he is." My brother was then first in line everyday after. He was victorious no more slimy pretzels. That one note changed everything, that one note became legend in my family. The power of parental persuasion was solidified with that note.
I am now the note writer. I keep in constant contact with my children's teachers. I am their advocate. I don't consider myself a helicopter parent more as a team player with the teachers to keep my children's education a high priority. I write many many notes to the teacher. Most of them are not what the teachers have come to expect. I do not write about how my special snowflake child needs this or that or how they have unfairly graded my precious baby. I write notes that say things like, Please give my daughter the grade she actually deserves on this project. She slapped it together hastily, without help or following directions. Please do not hold it against her she didn't mean to disrespect you or the assignment she felt that Sponge Bob Square Pants was more important than successfully completing the assignment. We will continue to work on her work ethics.
Soon after sending that note, it was back to school night. My daughter's teacher sought me out to discuss my note. She told me she has received many notes from parents but this one was the first in her 25 year career she brought home for her husband to read. She said it was the first time ever she had a note written by a parent that wasn't yelling at her, but conveyed frustration with my own daughter. She profusely thanked me for making her day.
I've gone to many more back to school nights. I've met many more teachers. I have let them all know they can always reach me and will give all my contact info. I let them know if it involves my children they can send me smoke signals or sky write it anyway they need to use to contact me. I've realized I'm not the student anymore, I'm not the child. With my first note to the teacher, this massive responsibility of raising children to successful adults stunned me that I'm the one. I'm the the integral team member to my children's educational success. My brother recently got married and has a son. I'm considering sending him a pen and stationary to send his own notes to the teachers his son will have.
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