I am the parent of two children, 8th and 11th grade. I love teachers. I love the ways they open/close/expand and shrink my children's minds. I love that they make them think, even if that thought is occasionally negative. I even love when my kids hate their teachers, because it gives them a chance to learn how to deal with difficult folks. It also gives them someone besides their mother to hate. Let's face it, moms get a lot of that while watching their child grow.
Yes, I love school and I love the people who make it happen.
You see, while I never wanted to be one of "those" parents, I am heavily involved in the school day of my children. By "those" parents, I mean the sort that teachers whisper about in the lounges, during their breaks. The parents who micromanage their child and the way the child learns. I've made a concerted effort to hand off my child and trust the teacher. It's worked out well. I have been for a collective 22 years of school. (I figure that based on starting school at age 4 (preschool) for each child, ages 14 and 16). I have met over 100 teachers who were responsible for my offspring for several hours each day.
It baffles me to no end when folks gripe about teachers. I want to hug teachers and tackle them with joy. I am grateful that I am given a reprieve. That is not to imply I'm anything close to an un-involved parent, but rather that I am a partner with the teachers. I love knowing that someone who isn't me is helping open my child's mind. I don't want a mini me who doesn't quite get complicated math formulas, or whose eyes glaze over during chemistry lessons. I want them to learn from many folks who teach in many ways. I want them to spend time with someone who isn't me.
At the end of every school year, especially in elementary school, I've given the teachers a framed poem:
What Do Teachers Make?
What about you?
My colleague, Kris, has issued a challenge. Tell us your thoughts on teachers. Share the link here. Let's really appreciate the folks we trust with our children.