y daughter recently completed her first year in kindergarten, which meant it was time for me to participate in my first parent-teacher conference. I was excited to find out how she was doing at school, and at the same time a little nervous. I had heard stories about what to expect at these kinds of events, but it’s fair to say it was completely different from my expectations.
In the UK parent-teacher conferences are often a great opportunity to have a one-to-one meeting with the school faculty and reflect on how your child is progressing. I recall my mum dreading these meetings, as I was apparently quite a handful.
However, upon arriving at the school early on a Saturday morning, my body reeling from a lack of sleep and caffeine, I soon realized this was going to be a completely different kind of meeting. We all sat down in the classroom and the teachers stood at the front of the class, talking about their vision for our kids. One single thought passed through my mind – adults were not meant to sit in seats designed for 3-5-year-olds.
During the 45 minutes, the teaching staff explained the methods they are using to guide the development of our kids. This comprehensive lesson went over everything, from etiquette and playing well with others to following a routine and what to do during an emergency. While I had anticipated a more intimate approach where I could really get to grips with how my daughter was doing, I appreciated the meticulous work ethic of the teaching staff.
However, things would then take a turn as we moved on to the second portion of the meeting – audience participation. The teachers began asking questions about how to deal with your children in various situations, and the parents raised their hands to offer answers. I was already the only foreign parent at the school, which meant I was always going to stick out to some degree, but I knew if I didn’t step up and contribute something, I would stick out for a far more embarrassing reason. Refusing to be known as the dad who had nothing to say, my hand remained poised over the desk, ready to shoot into the air as the teacher asked the first question.
In response to how to deal with your child when they want to purchase a toy while you are out shopping, I raised my hand, heard my name called out, and gave a genuine answer. I simply said that “I would offer an alternative item to my daughter, something that she actually needs, and explain to her why we should get this instead.” The teacher paused and stared at me with an intensity that I had not seen since my university days. She took a deep pause, I could feel my stomach twisting and turning like a tumble dryer, and she finally said, “That is a correct response, well done, Sam.” Looking back, the whole experience was a wee bit patronizing, but hey, I still ended up smiling as I let out a gentle sigh of relief.
Finally, the teachers asked us to write a short summary of how we think the school could improve. I felt incredibly uncomfortable during this exercise, as it felt like an excuse to complain about the people you have put your trust in. The truth is, I have been really happy with how my daughter has grown since starting kindergarten. She has made lots of friends, the teachers are friendly, she is learning and the school food looks great. However, the teachers insisted that we write our criticisms, so I knew I had to write something. I had been impressed with all the new English words my daughter had learned at school, but I had noticed that she was mispronouncing some of them. So, I requested that the school try to pay closer attention to the pupils’ pronunciation, but also prefaced my comment by mentioning how impressed I was with how much her vocabulary had grown.
As I arrived home, I was greeted by my wife, who was eager to know how it went. I told her it went great, handed her all the notes I had made, told my daughter well done for being a good bean, and went back to bed.
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