I want you to know I appreciate the time you spent and the effort you took to make everything special, but I don't care about any of that. All I care about is the fact that when The Boy was nervous and trying to hide behind me, you got down on his level and spoke to him to help him feel more comfortable. That when he felt small in a big new classroom and was giving you some serious side eye, you smiled at him and said "I promise I'm nice" and asked him what toys he was interested in, then listened as he showed you.
New teacher, you don't know us yet. Let me give you a head's up that we're that family. When we're signed up for snack helper, there's a 50/50 chance we'll either bring cool something related to that week's theme, or we'll forget completely. If that happens, I'll run up to the RaceTrac and get some stale doughnuts for the whole class, or maybe some of the emergency packs of melted fruit snacks I have in the back of my car for just such an occasion. You'll have to send us reminders about lunch money, because we might forget that too. When you open the door of my SUV in the car rider line, Ninja Turtles might fall out on the ground, and there's a good chance I'll be in my pajamas, with little brother crying in his car seat. I don't know when teacher appreciation week is, and I might accidentally turn left out of the car rider line like we're not supposed to do. Sometimes I will forget to check the send home folder and I won't see that note you sent me. Also, our take home folder is going to be bigger than everyone else's because I thought the list said a one-and-a-half-inch notebook, instead of one half-inch notebook. My kid might have some toothpaste on his shirt and some breakfast on his chin. And the breakfast might include some form of icing. I'll lose the list of important dates for the year that I got today, so you'll need to tell me again when 50's Day is, and what time the spring recital starts. His hair will be sticking up on picture day. I will forget to let you know my kid needs to stay for after school and I will urgently email you during the day, when I know good and well you have no time to respond. I apologize in advance. For all of that.
But teacher, we are also that family. That family who trusts you with our child. Who appreciates all the hard work you put in. The family who won't get mad if our kid isn't the smartest or fastest or best behaved one in your class. The family who will listen if there's a problem, and ask what we can do to help. The family who won't blame you for our imperfect kid or our imperfect parenting. The family who will teach our child to treat you with respect, even if he disagrees with you. The family who will say a prayer of thanksgiving for you every night, and who will send you telepathic kudos every time our kids start to drive us crazy after just 10 minutes of togetherness. We will back you up, and recognize your authority in the classroom and in his life. Our kid is about to spend 7 hours a day with you, and that's more time than he'll spend with us most days. We know you'll take care of him and love on him and laugh at his jokes and listen to his stories (oh, the stories!), and that you'll comfort him when he is sad and take care of him when he is hurt. We know that you won't tell him to shut up when he goes on and on about something, even if you want to (that might be the greatest superpower that God gifted teachers). We know that even as you are loving and teaching and shaping our child, you're loving and teaching and shaping 21 others too. We're that family that knows that every year our child is in school is another chance to add more people to his village. And if you haven't noticed, we need a village.
So if you'll hand me that Ninja Turtle, we'll see you tomorrow.
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