Conferences. The idea makes me shiver. I've been blamed for a child's failure; I've been insulted; I've been threatened that a parent will "have my job." I never know what to expect, so I've begun expecting the worst and hoping for the best. As we recently had conferences, I found them to be the best.
What's frustrating about conferences, for the most part, is the fact that those parents I need to see rarely show up. Their child has a D or an F, and although I've already sent emails about their child's lack of progess, it would be nice to have a personal discussion. Instead, the parents who show are those whose children are doing well in class. They generally have the same question: how can they support me at home? I appreciate those parents, and their care and concern reflect in their child's success.
In fact, nearly all parents I visited with this past week are parents whose children are doing well in my class. It was nice to visit and laugh with parents. One of my best conferences involved a student who, last semester, was failing most of the semester. He earned a D for the class, which upset him. This semester, however, he has a really solid B, nearly an A. I am proud of him, and I thoroughly enjoyed telling his parents about his tremendous improvement. His mom was so happy, she was giddy. I like those conferences.
Some parents are simply funny. One family and I had a wonderful conversation, not only about the progress their son has made, but about our celebrity "boyfriends and girlfriends." We were laughing so loud and so hard, I nearly had tears. I always enjoy visiting with this family because they are funny and delightful.
As cheesy as this sounds, I enjoy telling parents how much their children mean to me and how wonderful their children are. Last year, I had a conference with a father and son, and I had suggested the son join an Advanced Placement class. He decided to join mine, which surprised me as I teach Literature, and his dad wasn't sure he would do well. Not only has this young man risen to the challenge of an AP class, he's doing quite well in it. I thanked his father for allowing him to take the risk, and I told him how proud of his son I am. As this was his father's last conference (this student is a senior and a youngest child), I felt comfortable telling him that he has raised a wonderful young man, which he has.
Last year, another of my students decided to challenge herself with my Advanced English class, and while I wasn't sure it was the right fit for her, I believe strongly in encouraging students to challenge themselves. It's been a good year with her. She grows in confidence, which allows her to grow in ability. I feel a bit like a cheerleader, pushing her to continue to feel good about herself, which then reflects in her work. She's doing well in the class, her writing has improved tremendously, she's read novels and plays she wouldn't have read ordinarily, and she feels better about herself. Her mom is also a teacher, so we often have lovely conversations. As this was her last conference, it was nice to be thanked for working with her daughter. I am proud of this young woman for her accomplishments.
As rough and frustrating as teaching can be, I treasure these small gifts: students and parents who appreciate the work I do in terms of challenging their children, loving their children, and pushing their children toward better futures. Students are the reason I teach, and by holding onto these moments, even the darkest and most difficult times are better because I know I've made a difference.
