What's in a name?

Last week my Middle School Mascot quit after one game. She's in volleyball and it was really going to be the only football game she could come to anyway. She told her parents that it "wasn't like what she thought it would be like, she got tired and the costume was smelly." It's too bad because she did a fantastic job, very animated, really funny and engaging.

I visited with her parents a little at the Varsity game Friday night. We all agreed that it may also have had some to do with some of the personalities of the other girls on squad, on very zealous Seventh grader in particular. I reasoned that it's easier to avoid personality conflicts in basketball or volleyball than in cheerleading and I quipped that their daughter might now be able to avoid such conflicts, but that there was no escape for me.

They laughed and sympathetically asked how I could stand it, "you have three daughters at home, too, don't you? Geez, it's hard enough for us with just the one."

I told them than I didn't know whether God had used coaching cheerleading for the past 17 years as preparation for me having 3 girls or if He used parenting all girls to help make me a more patient cheer coach.

This reminded me of the name I chose for this blog. Originally I chose it as a title if and when I ever actually wrote a book about my experiences. It came from my very first year of coaching.

My wife was under a lot of stress our first year of teaching because she was asked to coach both junior high and high school cheerleading. When we went to our principal together to beg that she not have to coach both squads, he looked at me grinning and said, "I guess we'll need to find someone who could take on the junior high cheerleading... I noticed in your personnel file that you were a cheerleader in college."

Dumbfounded but dedicated to my wife, I reluctantly took on the responsibility. Little did I know what a difference that ONE season, freshman year of college would eventually  make in my life.

I hadn't intended to volunteer. At the time, I didn't feel qualified. I felt like Morgan Freeman in the Civil War epic, "Glory," when the Union Colonel, played by Matthew Broderick promoted him to Sergeant and gave him his stripes. "I'm not sure I'm wanting this," the middle-aged former grave digger confessed.

At any rate, here I was a 23 year old rookie teacher, fresh out of college, married but no kids of my own and my very first squad- a very fun, creative, enthusiastic group of Seventh and Eighth graders decided that it would be cute to nickname me "Papa Bear." It didn't really stick, they were pretty much the only squad to call me that, but it does pretty well exemplify part of my coaching philosophy. Kids need mentors, and girls need positive, appropriate (non-sexual) adult male influence. It's best if they get it from their dads, but not everybody has a stable two-parent family anymore.

 I was talking to my great friend (and former Mascot, now about 27) the other day. I stopped by his office in Denison (a bigger town near by) just to say hi. I had st picked up a prescription at the pharmacy across the street. By coincidence, I had come to Denison during their Homecoming parade. They're a bigger school with Freshmen, JV, and Varsity cheer squads for Football, Basketball, AND Wresting.

He was impressed by the stunts they performed in the parade and how sharp and synchronized they were. Whereas it was a struggle for me to manage to get a whole six girls to agree to cheer for football season this year and it's a struggle to get them to practice even once a week because of jobs and illnesses. One or my veterans attends Volleyball practice every night. Another one is a candidate for Homecoming Queen and felt like she had to make appointments at a tanning booth during practice.

We talked about my "blue" personality as compared to the need for disciplined cheerleaders to aspire toward greater excellence, he seemed to wonder out loud if at some unconscious level, kids who needed mentoring from someone as patient and tolerant as me.

He said though, that it would still be nice if I could get some cheerleaders who were already more confident, driven and maybe even competitive.

He figured maybe they'd bring along the more needy ones in their momentum. But then he paused and thought some more and counseled me that, "actually, those kids who don't seem to need mentoring, need mentoring too, they just don't know it."

I guess that's always been my philosophy. Legendary UCLA Basketball Coach John Wooden believed that he was a teacher and a mentor and that building character in his players and preparing them for life was just as important as building their skills and preparing them for games.

Of course, that first squad may have just called me "Papa Bear" because of the novelty of having a guy coach junior high cheerleading. I did feel a little like Cary Grant in his 1964 movie "Father Goose." An antisocial, cynical, masculine curmudgeon alone on a Pacific island during WWII, Grant suddenly found himself thrust into a paternal role when a young teacher and her class of school-girls are stranded on the same island.

Or it could've been because I'm about 5' 10", 250 pounds with a goatee, so maybe I looked like a bear. God knows that when I get home, my wife has to put up with me being the typical man that comedians like Bill Engvall and Tim Allen joke about- like bears, all we really want is to eat, sleep, and mate.

Labor Day is a lot of hard work

NOTE: This cartoon didn't run in the PRESS. I don't know what the issue was, room, time, lost the file, or editorial prerogative- but in hind sight I think it may be a little over the edge. Not because it accuses Southerners of being sexist or racist, or because it uses the word "colored," but because cartoons usually accuse politicians of things, this one accuses you the reader. So if you feel accused of liking Fred Thompson because he's a male, white, protestant, conservative- sorry, but do examine your own heart and remember, "walks like a duck, quacks like a duck..."

The Mapleton PRESS Thursday, September 13, 2007

My wife even prepared me for sleeping in a summer camp cabin with 12 other people at a family reunion by making sure that I brought some throat spray and “breath-right” strips for my nose so that no one would be kept awake by my snoring.

So it seemed like our eight year old was going to be the one who snored. I was having trouble sleeping and could hear her having trouble breathing. Everyone else had just nodded off around eleven, after several efforts at getting out two-year old settled. When she was five, we had Grace’s tonsils and adenoids out so that she’d get less congested. It hadn’t seemed to help that night.

I could hear the poor kid coughing and got up to grab some toilet paper to have her blow her nose. It was too late. When I got back from the bathroom, she was standing next to my wife’s bunk, asking permission to throw up. Who asks permission for that?

I ushered her in the dark to the restroom and she almost made it. I tried my best to console her and clean up after her without waking everyone else up, but to no avail. Her five year old sister and ten year old cousin were quite vocal about their distress over the odor, so the cabin door had to open and over head light had to come on.

Eventually I finished with Grace and the adults got the cousins to calm down and go back to sleep.

My mother-in-law objected to my leaving the bathroom light on, even with the door almost closed, but I understand the need for dark to help you sleep.

That’s when our two year old woke up. Sort of. We think she may have been in some kind of semi-conscious dream state, because she kept asking for her mother, who was already holding her.

Two year olds are notorious for being afraid of the dark and anxious in strange places. My wife and I and my mother-in-law all took turns trying to console the toddler, but to no avail. She was so distraught that her cries became coughs and- you guessed it, more vomit.

Two year olds are also notorious for not making it to the bathroom. After another round of cleaning up, my wife eventually resorted to taking the child out to our van to sleep in her car seat. Mosquitoes not withstanding, that was probably about as good as they could do.

Sunday afternoon we were all packed up and ready to head home after the big church service, business meeting and pot-luck. But, as will happen, we couldn’t find the two year old. I was searching the lodge inside while my wife searched outside. Finally, our daughter responded to my calling her name. She was in the lady’s room. I knocked on the door-frame and announced “man on the floor,” hoping she’d be the only female in there. Sure enough she was, and she was busy.

“I’m changing my poopy pants,” she explained. Part of me was almost proud, we’re finally getting somewhere with potty training. I say PART of me was proud. Pants at half-mast meant poop was everywhere.

I grabbed my wife. She’s clean up the child if I’d run to the van to get wipes and new clothes (sometimes it’s good to be a man- except for the guilt). Well, one of the dozens of second and third cousins happened to bring her two-year old into the bathroom right about that time. This second toddler was so overcome by the aroma of our child, that, you guessed it, she vomited. So now these two poor women are sharing the joy of cleaning up after both of their kids. Now, I was just outside, waiting patiently, providing distant moral support, so I didn’t witness this, but, as I warned, this was a classic situation…

I’m very proud of what a strong woman my wife is. She’s been through a lot and she can maintain her composure in almost any situation, far better than me. She had to be able to in this instance, because the other mother was so overcome by her daughter’s vomit, that she lost her lunch too.

Ted Mallory lives in Charter Oak and teaches at Boyer Valley Schools in Dunlap. 'Ted's Column' has appeared weekly in the Charter Oak-Ute NEWSpaper since 2002. You can see all of Ted's cartoons at http://tmal.multiply.com

Meeting the needs of a community

Meeting the needs of a community
Page 3 Charter Oak-Ute NEWSpaper & Schleswig Leader- Thursday, August 31, 2006

We hear a lot of crusty veteran teachers complain that the profession just isn’t what it used to be. Often they point out that it’s the kids. Kids just don’t respect their teachers like they used to or learning just isn’t as important to these kids anymore.

To some degree that’s true. Society has certainly evolved over the years so that what we used to call its basic fabric seems to be worn thin. Divorce is twice as prevalent as it was fifty years ago. Television, games and the rest of the media have desensitized youth to sex and violence to the point where both are taken for granted. The world itself and its economy seem to have forever altered what used to be thought of as “the American Dream.”

High School teachers are especially frustrated when their students don’t seem to be prepared enough for them to learn the subjects in their class. High pressure from new un-funded laws make things more complicated, as do special needs students being added to the mix of already over sized and under equipped classrooms.

Elementary teachers are frustrated because they feel like they have to become all things to all their students. It’s not enough that they need to teach their subject matters, but they need to teach manners, civility, conflict-resolution, drug prevention, abstinence or sexual responsibility and a host of other responsibilities that fifty years ago were the responsibility of the nuclear family, extended family, or church and civic organizations to address.

But maybe instead of wishing for the good old days, we all need to recognize the society we live in today and start addressing the needs of our kids here and now.

For some of us, teachers and communities alike, this may require major adjustments to our thinking and how we do things.

I’d bet that more than half of all kids don’t have what used to be traditional “nuclear family” situations anymore. How then, could we begin to imagine, let alone expect that they’d have “family values?”

For many kids, their “values” are down right primal. An over-simplified explanation might look like this: If you’re “family” makes more than $250,000 per year, you probably value influence and status. Between say $40,000 and $250,000 and you’re probably valuing things, conveniences, clothes, gadgets, vehicles, etc. Your stuff. Under $40,000 and you’re going to value things like your next meal, your security, your safety, and people who accept you and are loyal to you.

Abraham Maslow was a psychologist that almost every teacher is taught about. He had a theory that every human being has some very basic needs. I think that it’s time that all of us, not just teachers, considered the needs of our children.

Maslow was the first of seven children born to his parents, who were uneducated immigrants. He ended up being the chairman of the psychology department at Brandeis University throughout the 1950’s and 60’s.

Abraham Maslow broke down people’s needs into two categories, “deficiency needs” and “growth needs.” If the deficiency needs aren’t being met, the person is in survival mode. Once the deficiency needs are met, then we can start to address the growth needs.

Here are Maslow’s first four, or “deficiency” needs:

1) Physical: hunger, thirst, bodily comforts, etc.

A kid can’t learn if they’re malnourished. Their brains and bodies literally aren’t able to, besides that it’s hard to concentrate.

2) Safety/security: being out of danger.

How can you learn and behave well, when you don’t have a place to sleep, or you’re constantly threatened? For many kids, school is the least volatile place they spend time at. Alcohol, inappropriate sexuality, illegal drugs including meth, and physical violence are all routine parts of many children’s lives.

3) Belonging and Love: being accepted or part of something.

4) “Esteem:” to achieve and become competent, gaining approval and recognition.

It does seem unreasonable to expect classroom teachers to have to fulfill all of these needs for all of their students before they ever begin to address “growth needs” like thinking and learning skills, and aesthetic judgements, let alone academic subject area content like math and reading.

But the needs remain. Schools and communities need to adjust and adapt in order to be able to address these needs. Whether because of ignorance, circumstance, poverty, or impatience, fewer and fewer parents seem to be managing to.

Boyer Valley School District has added a day care, and a family-community coordinator. Our library is shared with the city and soon we’ll have a community based fitness center on our campus. The Area Education Association helps provide psychological and social services.

Many school buildings host things like recovery group meetings or community college classes in the evenings. I wouldn’t doubt that the Denison Schools offer adult education classes or at least English as a second language classes on their campus.

We as communities, church congregations, and civic organizations need to open our eye, our hearts, and perhaps our schedules or at least pocket-books to the needs of the children who live around us.

School districts, boards, administrators, and teachers need to open our minds to new ways of approaching these needs. That may include collaborating with cities or businesses, or with other districts. It will certainly take patience and compassion.

All of us need to consider ways that we can help provide for these most basic needs of our neighbors. If we don’t we’ll all pay a heavy price.

___________________________________________________________
Ted Mallory is a resident of Charter Oak and a teacher and coach at Boyer Valley Schools in Dunlap. He has taught History, Art, Journalism, and Religion over the last 13 years at Trinity Lutheran Middle School in Reseda, CA, Los Angeles Lutheran Jr/Sr High School in Sylmar, Ca and now at Boyer Valley MS/HS.

Girl Talk

Girl Talk

Charter Oak-Ute NEWSpaper/Scheswig Leader Thursday, August 3, 2006

More than most men, I’ve had to build up my filters, almost an immunity, you might say to young-female verbal expression. Don’t get me wrong, I hope I’m not more chauvinistic, but I imagine I’m not less so than other guys. But either way I end up having to hear a lot more of it than other guys.

For those of you who didn’t know it or don’t remember, I- straight, middle aged, all American regular guy coach both middle school and high school cheerleading. And I have for about 12 years. But more meaningful than that, for about half those years I’ve listened to my own little girls.

Having daughters has always meant having pink clothes and Barbie dolls, but this summer we painted their rooms. Now their mom assures me that Ellen’s room is magenta and Grace’s room is lavender, but even with a college degree in Art they both look pink to me. One’s a reddish pink and one’s a purplish pink. All I know is that back when there was only one of them, I had a room with my junk where I could watch baseball, now half my house is pink.

But it’s the talk that confounds me more than their taste in décor. Teenagers will talk about boys, their parents, music, clothes, make-up, each other, you get the idea. My girls are 18 months, 4 and 7. They don’t always have the best luck communicating with each other, let alone with we adults.

Grace, our oldest is finally emerging as a conversationalist. When she was 18 months, she’d jabber away (saying nothing we could understand) and we couldn’t wait until she could speak for real. When she was two, we couldn’t wait, and when she was three…and four. After countless trips to doctors and therapists and specialists and consults and exams and tests it was determined that Grace suffered from a developmental disorder called dysarthria. It didn’t effect her brain at all, but her nerves and muscles were effected in that she’d less coordinated and lacks much of the fine motor control that other people take for granted. It hasn’t slowed her down intellectually or academically, but obviously it’s been a barrier socially. But time, speech therapy and practice have all helped her make great strides in communicating. Maybe more than we bargained for.

I always anticipated sighs and complaints from my kids once they reached adolescence. In fact that’s one of the most frightening things that students and cheerleaders can say to you- “Mr. Mallory, what will you do if your kids turn out like us?” But, I had no idea that Grace would start talking like a teenager before she even hit second grade.

I don’t know how many times she’s said to me, exacerbated, “Da-a-ad, don’t worry,” or “I know Da-a-ad, I KNOW.” I don’t know when my one-syllable nickname turned into a three or four syllable complaint. Then there’s, “You TOLD me already.”

Worst of all is this one- “I just want my privacy!”

Ellen, our 4 year old pretty much has only two speeds, high and off. That goes for her mouth too. She makes up lyrics to her own songs. In fact, she recently announced to me that she wants to be a country music singer like the ones on CMT. I’m sure glad we don’t have MTV on our cable system.

This middle-child is the one who serves us up the “but everyone else gets to,” and “I NEVER get to have any fun,” and the every popular “I hate this dinner.”

But we did get a big kick out of her after we’d redecorated in pink. She said to her mom, “Mom, do you know what I love?…” what honey?… “MY ROOM!”

Anyone who’s had two daughters knows that the talking never ends and occasionally can get pretty heated. “Fine, I’m just not going to play with you anymore, and I’m not going to be your sister anymore!” “Fine! And I’m never going to play with you again and I’m going to run away so I never have to see you again!” So? Fine! Fine! Go AWAY! FINE, I will! Fine, just leave me alone!

Pretty soon these sort of exchanges leads to this “Da-a-ad, she’s bugging me, Da-a-ad, she won’t leave me alone, Da-a-ad she says she gets to ride the but to our game, but she’d not on the team ‘cause she’s too little and we don’t even ride a bus, but she won’t listen to me and she won’t go out of my room and I told her to just leave me alone!!!” Etc. Etc.

Occasionally I’m not the only one syllable name to get stretched- “Mo-o-om, can you help me?”

“Your Mom’s on the phone with someone honey, can I help you? What do you need?”

“Not you Dad, I sa-a-id Mo-o-om, I want Mo-o-om.”

So far Annamarie, the baby hasn’t been drawn into any verbal scraps yet with the other two. In fact, so far the word she seems to use most is “this.” Sometimes “this” means, “can I have this?” or “I want this” or “can you open this?” or “do YOU want some of this?” It’s pretty interesting. Some people think of me as a writer and I’m not even sure what part of speech “this” is. Is “this” a preposition? Seems like it’s sort of like a noun.

Her first word, I’m proud to say was “Dad,” but of course at the time “Dad” referred not necessarily to me but to anything that is now “this.” Last night she was calling me “Mom.” She’s at that stage where once in a while we’ll SWEAR she said something but we aren’t sure, of course, she’s too independent to repeat anything like some trained bird doing tricks, so we can never confirm anything we think she’s said.

Just the other day I could’ve SWORE she said “Why did they send that Neanderthal Bolton to the UN when he doesn’t even believe in the legitimacy of the institution and we’re in such precarious times that require sophisticated diplomacy more than ever?”

Okay, you’re right, I made that up. It was more like her Grandma thought she pointed to the door and said “go outside, please?”

But I definitely KNOW that whenever I have any ice cream she walks up to me and clearly asks “some? Some?”

It's only Monday, Mr. Mom

I like to think of myself as a modern guy. There was never any question as to whether or not I'd help with our kids. There are some guys out there who have lots of grandkids already and they've never changed a poopy diaper. I'm not saying that makes me a good dad or anything. Here's a hint guys, never refer to it as "babysitting" the next time you have to watch your own kids without your wife's help.

Modern as I may be I have to admit that there are times when its hard. I have to tread lightly here guys, because I don't want the lady readers to think I'm complaining. Lets just say PARENTING can be hard. Last summer I must have sent out two dozen resumes filled out at least a half a dozen applications and still couldn't land a summer job. Some people work places for years and then lose that job. Teachers lose theirs every summer. Anyway, Bethany got a summer job but I couldn't, that meant I had to play Mr. Mom. And parenting is hard. Single parenting is even harder. Personally, I think that men are parentally retarded. It's like we're missing a gene or something. I'm not saying that women have it any easier, but I for one don't feel especially competent in the area.

So when Lonestar came out with their hit song, Beth just looked at me and started laughing. I think she meant to be laughing WITH me, not AT me, but I can never quite tell the difference.

Pampers melt in a Maytag dryer
Crayons go up one drawer higher
Rewind Barney for the fifteenth time
Breakfast six, naps at nine
There's bubble gum in the baby's hair
Sweet potatoes in my lazy chair
Been crazy all day long and it's only Monday Mr. Mom

Not only should you avoid putting darks in with lights, but some darks are cheaper than others, so you can't just put any old purple in with the blues, or you'll be singing the blues. Check all pockets for candy, gum, and toys. Never put anything in the dryer without checking to make sure that you got the stains out. And "Super-Bee" the stuffed toy sent home by the teacher for good "bee-havior" needs to take baths at home in the teacher's washing machine, not ours.

You know, not to give them a free plug, but those Mr. Clean "erasers" really work pretty well on most crayons- on the wall, but you still have to use a lot of elbow-grease. If your kids get a hold of a Sharpie permanent marker and it bleeds through the paper they're drawing on, you'd better hope they were working straight on the terrazzo floor instead of the nice oak table.

I hate Barney. I don't mind the Wiggles or Dora the Explorer. Of course, my favorite is Kim Possible. I think it's because it reminds me a little of the old Scooby Doo show, that and Kim Possible is a cheerleader. The joy of DVDs is that you can just click to the beginning, no waiting. The joy of cable TV is Nickelodeon and the Disney Channel.

Why is it that when I don't have to go to work, they're always up at six, but on schooldays pulling them out of bed is like pulling teeth! Maybe if I tried putting them down for a nap at 9 they'd actually sleep. Waiting till after lunch just leads to a major battle of the wills.

No trouble with bubble gum in hair yet, lollipops a few times. Gum just lands on the carpet in the van. Several times they've decided to play beauty shop and cut their own hair, a couple times with a shaving razor, not just scissors!

Sweet potatoes- now I don't know it that's a Southern thing, or a baby food thing. I've sat down in a wet chair plenty of times. Milk, juice, water, and of course, plenty of potty. My mom used to make us popcorn on Friday nights when we watched Rockford Files when I was a kid, so that's something I wanted to be able to do for my kids. Let me tell ya, they LOVE popcorn. Let me tell ya somethin' else: I don't know what vacuum cleaner you currently using, but Eletralux really sucks.

Thought there was nothing to it Baby, now I know how you feel What I don't know is how you do it!

So, now on those nights when Beth has a meeting or teaches a class, I don't get quite as freaked out, instead I think about how she has to do it every night that I'm gone for a football or basketball game.

Our girls are at this great age. They're at the age where Grace will lean over to Ellie's side of the van and point at her, with her finger inches away. When Ellie protests, Grace defends herself in the age old, big-sibling style,

"What? I'm not touching her- look, I'm not TOUCHING her!"

They've also got great imaginations. Ellie has an imaginary friend she calls "P.J." When I didn't have school one day but Grace did, I took Ellie into Denison to get groceries. She'd behaved herself pretty well so I agreed to take her out to "McDonald's Happy Meal." Of course this was after the Daylight Savings time change so I thought we were going out to lunch at 11:30, but it was more like 10:30 because my watch is broke. At any rate, "P.J." had to come with us.

This was a little hard for me. She wheeled a high chair up to our booth for him and kept talking to him and pretending to wipe his hands after she'd feed him French fries. I'm used to people staring at me because I'm outspoken or I dress goofy. It's new to me to have people staring at me because someone I'm with is talking to people who aren't there.

What ya gonna do? Parenting can be hard.

Parent-Teacher Conferences should be about kids

At the time I am writing this, Boyer Valley had just finished up Parent-Teacher Conferences. That’s where teachers sit in a gym for four hours grading papers, cleaning out files, reading or talking to each other about College Football while they wait for what few parents come to come. No, seriously, it’s a beneficial thing but no matter what school you’re at there are several things that are true;

The kids who’d parents the teacher most needs to speak to don’t come. Some parents feel very intimidated and defensive because they can’t understand why their child is doing so poorly. Some teachers feel intimidated and defensive because they can’t understand why they’re the ones under scrutiny when it’s the kid who didn’t turn any homework in on time with their name on it.

One year in California a parent stayed at my desk for nearly 90 minutes! His child was pulling an ‘A’ in my History class and had no real beef with me, although it was very important to the dad that I wasn’t teaching liberal politics. I’ve always prided myself on try to see and share both sides of every issue. My primary goal as a teacher is always to equip students with critical thinking skills so that they can do their own thinking and form their own opinions.

This parent complained about everything from the cost of filling chuck-holes to clandestine government conspiracies but spent most of his time preaching to me about the virtues of guns and the second amendment.

I tried my best to just listen and not attempt to dispute anything he said.

Another year I found myself under the scrutiny of a set of parents who were upset that their daughter didn’t make it back on to the cheer squad. There was a night that I probably would’ve tested positive for high blood pressure. Forty-five minutes into the meeting I made a mental note to myself; “for future reference; never schedule tryouts the week of or the week before parent/Teacher conferences.” Whew!

The thing I probably miss the LEAST about teaching History are those students, bless their hearts, who would have a coronary if they received a ‘B+’ or an ‘A-.’ You know, the ones who would fly off the handle about how I was ruining their lives and preventing them from achieving their dreams because of the grade I GAVE them.

Hello? Teacher’s don’t GIVE grades arbitrarily because they want to ruin you dreams. They merely REPORT the grades that you’ve EARNED. Studying helps. So does 1) actually doing the homework, 2) bothering to turn it in when it’s due, and 3) having your name on it.

My, conferences have usually been much less dicey since I’ve been teaching only Art. Let’s face it, you almost have to TRY to fail Art. When a student does get a ‘C,’ it’s usually because of a severe lack of effort. Their parent’s, fortunately or unfortunately depending on how you look at it assume it’s because their kid just isn’t talented and Art isn’t important so why bother the poor teacher about it. Mind you, I’m the kind of Art teacher who sincerely and adamantly believes that EVERY student NEEDS to learn about Art, EVERY student SHOULD learn about Art, and believe it or not, almost anyone CAN learn to draw if he or she wants to.

I enjoy getting to meet the parents of my students. Sometimes it’s a lot of fun. Some times it can tug at your heart strings. I had a pair of parents who came on behalf of a student who’s living with them for the semester. Not an exchange student, not a foster kid, just a Senior who’s parents abandoned them and who’d last host kicked ‘em out. These new host parents, genuinely want to help him get into college. What hearts.

I don’t know how far off Charter Oak-Ute’s next batch or parent-teacher conferences is but, I’d like to offer some advice for three types of people affected by parent teacher conferences.

Students- Don’t fret and sweat so much. It’s a good thing if your parents attend these conferences. It means they care about you. Believe it or not, so do most of your teachers. They certainly didn’t get into their line of work for the pay. If you’ve been trying your best and don’t have anything to hide, parent-teacher conferences may be temporarily embarrassing, but are no big deal. As Disney’s Kim Possible says “So not the drama!”

Teachers- Make sure you listen more than you talk and make sure you keep your emphasis on the student and strategies for helping them. Don’t waste time either selling your program or trying to defend your teaching style. Parents want help, not a pitch.

Parents- Always remember that teachers are human. Well, most of us anyway. That means we need you to be a little patient and forgiving, but that also means not to put them on any kind of pedestal. What I’m saying is that you going to talk about your child is not the same as you being called into the principal’s office when you were a student, so don’t get scared. At the same time, these are professionals who have had a lot of training in what they do and sacrifice a lot to do it, so please hear them out.

Neither parents or teachers should go into conferences planning on attacking or being attacked. Their common objective is helping kids. Both parents and teachers should keep that in mind.