Updated: August 21, 2023
Dear Educators Shaping My Children’s Future,
You may not remember me as Sarah, or even as the mother of Alex, Bella, Charlie, and David. This year, I will likely be known simply as That Parent. I embrace this title upfront to save us both from any misunderstandings down the line.
Let me begin by acknowledging the extraordinary work you do. It’s no secret that many educators are underappreciated and undercompensated. However, I want you to know that I truly value your contributions. You play an essential role in preparing my children for independence—something I deeply appreciate.
As we embark on this school year, I feel compelled to introduce myself and clarify a few things before we encounter any awkward moments in the classroom. This is the first year in 14 years that I’ve had all four of my kids in school full-time. I apologize in advance for any chaos that might ensue.
I was under the impression that this would signal the beginning of a new chapter, filled with peace and productivity. Instead, I’ve discovered that having all my children at school all day is more challenging than I anticipated. It’s a significant adjustment.
Those forms you sent home for me to sign about running a mile every week and being photographed? Well, the reason you haven’t received them is not due to my opposition to physical activity or school policies. I absolutely support my kids staying active. The thing is, I stepped back from sifting through backpacks once they finished kindergarten, and if their lack of signed forms leads to consequences, I’m okay with that.
To the music instructor: My son Charlie hasn’t picked an instrument yet. This is not my fault; he thought he could play the electric guitar but has since settled on the viola. Unfortunately, that instrument won’t fit in my car, so we’ll need to sort that out soon.
To the language arts teacher who gave Bella a zero for not having her copy of Pride and Prejudice yet, I must say that the delay is entirely on Amazon’s shoulders. I plan to use them frequently as an excuse this year, as their prices are unbeatable.
To the school nurse: Every time your number appears on my caller ID, I feel a surge of panic. I’m relieved when it’s not the principal, but when it’s you, I brace myself. Please understand that if Charlie or David doesn’t have a fever or hasn’t actually vomited, they really should return to class. It’s not that I don’t care; I’ve seen how quickly their ailments vanish the moment they are home.
To the art teachers: I apologize for my delay in submitting the supply fees. The initial costs were astronomical, and I’ve been struggling to find the funds for my daily coffee fix, which I need to cope with the situation.
Regarding supplies, I’m thrilled I didn’t have to buy toilet paper as part of the school needs. I’ve heard other schools required that, and I truly can’t believe it.
To the math teachers: Please let the kids know that asking their mom for homework help is a form of cheating. When David asked me about the probability of drawing a red sock from a mix of six red and five blue socks, I humorously replied that the odds were probably similar to my chances of surviving the next decade, which I have no clue about either. If he wrote that down, my apologies.
That’s all for now. I’m feeling quite overwhelmed. If any of you would like to chat about life over a drink, I’ll be at the local shop after 4:00 PM. They often have some great deals.
Warm regards,
Sarah, aka That Parent