The school principal thought the certificates and labels were “heartfelt.” I’ve also contacted the district superintendent but haven’t received a reply.
Am I being too sensitive in thinking these are backhanded compliments, or just plain rude labels? I would’ve been even more upset had my child been labeled “Class Clown.”
K.: The district superintendent?
I don’t love some of these, either. I might have said to the teacher: “Superlatives always flirt with stereotypes, and I know you mean well, and I’m seriously splitting hairs. But ‘Funniest’ and ‘Best Manners’ would land better because they’re rewarding vs. labeling.”
Might have said. I also might not have said boo. Because teacher, heartfelt, second grade, June …
But district superintendent? This teacher ran your kid’s kitten rodeo every business day for nine months, said goodbye to each kitten with lovingly drawn-up certificates that, okay, inched (millimetered?) over the line in some (hardly new) cases, and your idea of an appropriate response was to set your own hair on fire and run to the district superintendent?
Pretend I’m handing you two envelopes.
Envelope 1, a letter to said superintendent, cc’d to teacher and principal:
“I am writing to withdraw my complaint about the certificates given in Teacher’s class. While I maintain that, for example, ‘Funniest’ and ‘Best Manners’ would have flirted less with troublesome stereotypes, the awards were obviously well intentioned and missed by small margins. My reaction, meanwhile, was out of proportion to any offense on the teacher’s part. I apologize sincerely for taking actions that could imperil a teacher’s job for, it’s clear to me now, trying to show they cared about each child as an individual.
“In the future, I will count to 20 before I act, approach teachers directly when I have a concern, and save this kind of escalation for when a matter of health and safety goes unaddressed.”
Envelope 2, a certificate:
I’m going to ask you to pick one, but only after you read this next part first:
Fates willing, you have a long road ahead of you as a conscientious parent supervising your child’s education.
The road will have hazards, detours and potholes, I promise.
To expect this road to be perfectly smoothed out — by your own actions or the schools’ — is not a reasonable goal. It is not happening. Please know this now.
These, however, are reasonable goals:
1. To round out a crew (including your child and the school) that navigates these hazards and meets your child’s educational needs — if not perfectly, then transparently and sufficiently for her to gain independence and pursue success in the world as it is. A parent’s role on this crew is mostly about values, stability and caregiving at home, and hands-on at school when necessary.
2. To have a functional definition of “necessary.” Again, as your child gets older, she will increasingly become the one who determines whether and how you need to intervene at the school. Until then — when she is still tiny — it’s your call, and proportion is everything, picking the right strategy for the right battles.
Hint: The time to ask whether you’re “being too sensitive” is before you put out a hit on someone’s livelihood for an attempted kindness, not after.
