school-home correspondence
When it comes to parental involvement in school, I picture a beautiful spectrum with the fully hands on parents on one end (who of course
volunteer to paint the spectrum, and provide snacks) and the laissez-faire parents on the other (not even aware that the spectrum needed painting). I myself don't see one end being right or wrong, but that's probably because I'm dangerously close to the hands-off side, and I'm sure I failed to read about the need for a spectrum painter & snack provider in the weekly newsletter.
What I've got going for me (and I try not to take it for granted) is the fact that my children run mostly self-propelled through school. Oh, I quiz them on memory work as requested, I force them to practice the violin, I have Elia read out loud to me, and I helped Kate do a science project (which I came dangerously close to taking over), but other than that, when it comes to self-reliant done-ness, they are medium-rare. (Ok, Elia is still rare. Is it just me, or am I nailing the analogies this week?)
Anyhow, thankfully as the children get older, the parental involvement gets less. What started out helping out in their pre-school classrooms several times a year, and emptying their backpacks daily, has turned into skimming correspondence and only coming to school when I'm driving or when we have extra cupcakes at work and I am suddenly the star parent saying, "Como todos los studientos comer un cupa cacos?" (Which my children inform me is not "gramatically correct," though they all seemed to know what I was talking about!)
I realize that parents need to be informed, but I feel for the teachers of today, having to run a printing press, keep up on daily emails, arrange for transportation, and write a blog all whilst molding the minds of tomorrow. If I feel overwhelmed at the thought of reading it all, one can only assume how much harder it is to keep the communication stream flowing. Information comes now via weekly classroom blogs, weekly school newsletters, stacks of papers shoved in Elia's backpack (I finger through them, say, "Good job on this assignment, E!" and toss it in the recycling), and emails asking for baked goods, class room monitors, transportation, Christmas donations, host families, fundraising, birthday donations, etc. I recently received an email with a Google Doc asking for supplies for a gift-box for a sponsored child. I glanced at it during the day, and by the time I got home, I re-opened it to sign-up and everything was taken (by the on-the-ball parents)! It was almost as though people were watching for the email to come in so they could snatch up some items to buy. Maybe it was in the blog. Ah well...
Last week Greg and I went in for the parent-teacher conferences. Zeeland Christian does something smart in having parents fill out a form before the conferences. The first time I filled it out, I spent a great deal of time and thought-filled effort in doing so. It read something like this:
1. How does your child currently feel about school?
My precious child is mostly positive towards school. She sure does love to learn, she loves having you as a teacher, and she's getting to know other kids in her class. After a long break she gets a little nervous at the thought of heading back to school, but I know that it is good for her to push herself intellectually, socially, spiritually, and spellingly.
2. What school subjects does your child seem to enjoy the most or have a strength in?
The delight of my youth seems to be enjoying reading, math, and frolicking with her peers in the less-supervised exterior (recess). She is showing endless potential, and I'm certain she'll excel in a vast number of areas, but as she's only six, I refuse to limit her future by narrowing her skills and strengths at this time.
3.What challenges is your child having with schoolwork?
Why, what a silly question to ask one's parent. Mighten I suggest asking another, more knowledgeable participant in my dear cherub's life. Say...someone who is with her doing, oh, I don't know, schoolwork? Surely they would be more knowledgeable than I.
4. Do you have any concerns about your child's interactions with other students?
Why do you ask? Should I? What are you saying? Has my precocious baby been giving someone a hard time?
5. In what ways can I support you and your child?
A dinner now and then would be nice.
6. What questions or thoughts would you like to have answered/addressed at our conference?
Mostly just how the love of my life is doing at school, and how I might help her develop into a well-adjusted, knowledgeable, gracious adult human.
7. How have you seen your child grow and develop in their faith in Jesus in the past year or even the past couple months?
Hmm...Past couple of months? Well, my little squirt is now ending her prayers with "the end," with might suggest she possesses a broader whole-story Biblical knowledge.
8. How can I pray for your child and your family?
Only that my innocent fledgling will grow in the grace, love, and knowledge of God. Oh, and that we won't fall prey to the head lice pandemic that keeps circulating throughout the school.
However last week, when I went to fill this out for the 22nd time, I left almost every line blank. I've run out of interesting ways to fill out the form (and I refuse to write if it's not interesting). And it's not for lack of trying, I've asked the girls for their answers and it's like pulling teeth getting a straight answer (especially from the rare-child). But do you know what? Despite my lack of effort, the conference went off without a hitch! Which just goes to show that, while we have a world of information at our fingertips, the original, and probably my favorite form of school-home correspondence will always be face-to-face. And in today's age of information and technology, an in-person conversation with one of the most influential people in my small fry's life this year, is priceless. One might even say it's worth a thousand printed words? No? Fine, I'll read the blog.