Diary of a Wimpy Parent, Part 1

For the past two years, we fretted over Cassie's transition to middle school.  We read a number of series about middle school students: sixth graders being tortured by eighth graders, girls being tortured by boys, and girls being interested in boys.  I continually reassured Cassie.  "It's not that bad," I told her.  Or, "Yes, you will have to deal with boys.  But, with practice, it won't be that bad!"  Of course, we assured her over and over again that she would never become a wimp.  Little did I know that I would be the one who would be forced into becoming A WIMP!!

A couple of weeks ago, I was picking Cassie up from a birthday party.  Another mother approached me and said that her daughter has been coming home from school upset every day because a teacher calls my child, "Quesadilla."

"Really?" I asked.  "I think Cassie would probably have mentioned this to me.  Do you think maybe the teacher is just mispronouncing her name a bit?"

"Oh, no," the other mom insisted, "If this were happening to my child, I would call the teacher and complain.  Your child shouldn't have to put up with this."

Later, I asked Cassie about this.  Ever since Cassie was in preschool, we have urged her to solve her own school problems, if possible.  Over the years, she has written letters and had meetings with teachers, counselors and the principal, to discuss various injustices that she has observed.  But, when necessary, I have helped her out.  I tried to get a sense  for whether or not this was a problem that could be resolved at Cassie's level.  She explained that she had been answering to "Quesadilla" for weeks.  She continued explaining that this teacher struggles with the students' names and has been calling one student "Kuh."  (I tried to transcribe this.  Cassie pronounced it like "duh," with a "k.")  I asked Cassie if she had told the teacher how to pronounce her name. 

"Several times," she said.  "I told her that I like being called, 'Cassie, 'not 'Cassidy,' and I write 'Cassie' on all my papers.  I'm afraid the teacher will get mad if I say anything else."

"Does being called 'Quesadilla' bother you?" I queried, immediately hating myself.  Come on, of course it bothers her.  Being made fun of on a daily basis would bother pretty much anyone.

"Yes," Cassie answered.  "Everyone laughs because the teacher is clearly calling me 'Quesadilla.'  It's not an accidental mispronunciation."

I don't want to sound too critical.  I'm a teacher and I know the many challenges classroom teachers face.  Trust me, I know.  I want to be fair to the teacher.  Over the years, I have encountered many names that are difficult to pronounce.  I currently am working on pronouncing 'Aurelio' and 'Efrain.'  These names are difficult so I practice in my car, where no one can hear me.   Names are important.  They are one's identity.  Last week, several students informed me that I was mispronouncing another student's name.  They explained that the Eritrean student's name was "Sofia," with an accent on the first syllable, not the second syllable as it typically would be for a Spanish-speaking student.  I apologized and practiced the unfamiliar pronunciation in front of the class.  But, "Cassidy" is really not that hard to pronounce. 

"Well," I began, "If you really want me to, I could contact your teacher and explain how to pronounce your name."  And, again I hated myself because I was hoping that Cassie would say she didn't want me to contact the teacher.  

Cassie said that she would wait a couple more weeks and see what happens.  I sighed in relief, hoping my kid wouldn't see what a wimp I've become.  Am I really scared to contact a teacher?

Okay.  Time for some deep breathing before I completely stress myself out.  The thing is, I really don't know how to contact Cassie's teachers.  I attended back-to-school night and met each teacher.  Yeah, well, I didn't really meet any of the teachers.  I sat in their classrooms, observed, and listened to them talk.  With one exception, none of them had any idea who I was.  I'm sure they didn't even all know Cassie.  Each one had a different preferred method of contact.  One said she prefers email.  Another prefers that a note be scribbled in the student's planner.  Another also prefers email, but cautioned that it would take several days for a parent to receive a response.  Another prefers phone calls.  And, yet another prefers personal meetings because other forms of communication could cause hurt feelings.  I carefully scribbled notes about all this.  But, the following day, the notes made little sense and I threw them out.  So, as my brain raced, I realized that if Cassie said that she wanted me to contact her teacher, I would have no idea which means of communication to use.  And, if I screwed up and made the teacher angry, my kid's grade might suffer.  And, that is really the bottom line.  Grades are important to Cassie.  Grades are important to Cassie's parents. Cassie's grades have been good this year, absent any parental interference.  Do I want to risk messing this up?  Am I being unfair for thinking that a teacher would get mad if I complain and lower my child's grade?   Am I being unfair to my child?

Even if this situation resolves itself, there are several others waiting to be addressed.  And, here I sit, a self-proclaimed Wimpy Parent, not knowing what to do.  I have to believe in our system of public education.  I use things that I don't like about my children's educations to inform my teaching.  But, right now I feel that I'm failing my child because I really don't know how to help her at school.