Monday, October 4, 2010

A pre-conference letter

Dear Hoover's Teacher,

I have bitten my fingernails down as far as they can go and have developed some sort of gastrological problems today as I watched the clock tick down to our conference. I have an hour before I meet with you, and I'd like a chance to plead my case before I get there.

I see that you have not included an end-time for my conference with you today. This scares me. Hoover is my middle child; this is not my first time to the dance. I know how it works. Except my conferences with Larry Potter's teachers have always been scheduled for early afternoon...and for 15 minutes. I heard through the school grapevine that the evening conferences are saved for the problem children. My time is at 6 p.m. and I'm pretty sure I'm your last one of the day.

Hoover is a wonderful boy full of creative mischief. And by creative mischief, I mean he could probably hotwire your car in the time it takes for you to take care of another student's bathroom emergency. Knowing what my son is capable of does not make my Pepto consumption any less for today. He doesn't tell me the fine details of his day, and I am assuming you will have a story or two for me. Just keep in mind what I told you at back to school night --keep all tools locked up. You thought I was kidding, and that is your mistake. If you have a stray hammer or screwdriver on your desk, no doubt my son has found it, used it, and probably had it confiscated.

I am trying my best to not be a giant pain-in-the-tush this year. If you need reference for this comment, please see LP's former teachers. But here's the thing dear teacher, Hoover is not LP. It's not fair to compare your children, but as a courtesy to you I will tell you how unprepared I am for our meeting tonight. LP's teachers biggest complaints were always that he blurted out the answers (correctly) before the other kids could answer. I have a feeling you and I will be talking about Hoover's love of body part-talk and penchant for large mood swings, typical of the most emo teenager. And, I'm pretty sure we'll be talking about those dreaded initials ADD.

I'm not a bad mom. I know your problems with my child because I have the same complaints. Except one of us has a degree in early childhood education. It's not me.

I'm now focusing on bigger things for tonight, like what to wear, because honestly, I feel I can at least control how I look when all of shit fingerpaint hits the fan.

Looking forward to your compliments, even if its just on my earrings,
The Snarky Mom


  1. Jess I am curious how it went! Do share! (And perhaps it wasn't nearly as bad as you thought it would be? Crossing my fingers!)--Michele

  2. wow, it never occurred to be before that parents get nervous about this stuff too. Last time I thought about parent-teacher conferences (which is when I was a kid) I thought it was all fun and games for the grown-ups and stress for us. (I was equally surprised the first time I had to teach and realized -- holy shit! -- it's hard.)

  3. I've found that when fingerpaint hits the fan, it is not evenly distributed. Just remember that the teachers are more scared of you than you are of them... no sudden moves... no loud noises... and most of all: no finger pointing! My finger pointing made my daughter's second grade teacher and sixth grade teacher very aggressive. (It took two times to learn not to do that.)