As a mom and an educator, I often mix up my hats, both at home and at school. The line between teacher and mother is often blurred, and sometimes, I find myself trying to be both at the same time. I often compare the duality to what nurses might feel like when they (or someone they love) end up as the patient. We know too much, understand the ins and outs, but sometimes need to stay in our lane.
This school year started off like any other — my daughter began kindergarten, my son started 1st grade, and I continued teaching the middle school kids I have grown to love so much. Everyone was so excited about their new teachers, new classmates, and of course, all the new school supplies. At back-to-school night, we met new teachers and re-introduced ourselves to the ones from last year. The administration and staff at our kiddos’ school are top-notch, so we had no complaints and felt lucky to be surrounded by such fantastic educational support.
However, within the first few months of school, we had received a handful of messages from our son’s teachers regarding behavior. Most of it was fairly minor–playing too rough at recess, not listening to directions in art class–but we would chat with him about it and move on. But when we received another three messages before fall break, we started to wonder what might really be going on at school. In my responses to the teachers, I asked probing questions to learn more about what happened. After looking back on all the messages, they all seemed to have one thing in common: another male classmate our son spoke about often. According to him, they were buddies and played together frequently, but as we started to talk more, it seemed like he and our son were getting into more mischief together, and we might need to discuss other solutions to try to resolve it.
During parent-teacher conferences, we asked to speak to the principal about this situation, just to get her take on what might be happening. We completely understood that our son’s behavior was unacceptable, but there seemed to be more to the story than we were getting. We had a nice talk with her, but we still didn’t get many answers about what was going on. There was something mentioned about having the behavior coach help the teacher with some of her management techniques, and while I still want to hold my son accountable for his behavior, I also know that a chaotic, unstructured environment can lead him to trouble.
After talking with my husband, we made the decision to request that he move classrooms, not to fault anyone but more to give him a fresh start and try a different environment away from his buddy that he was so often gravitating towards. The principal agreed to consider it but mentioned that she was afraid he might just find another student in the new class to get silly with. While we knew that was a distinct possibility, at this point, we were willing to try anything to avoid 1) having our son feel like he was constantly in trouble and 2) potentially get him into a more structured environment with clear expectations so he can thrive again.
The weekend before Fall Break ended, we got a phone call from the principal asking if we had thought anymore about the different options we had discussed. We had both agreed to request the class change, and she agreed to start it on Monday when classes resumed. So we held our breath and waited…
That morning, even with several mentions of what was going to happen, my son was livid with me. He insisted that he did not want to switch classes or change teachers and was so mad that we would even think about this. Both my husband and I had explained the situation to him in seven-year-old terms and tried to drive home the idea of setting him up for success. But in the moment, he was not having any of it and almost refused to get out of the car at drop-off. Thankfully, he did go in, and I drove away just hoping that his day was going to go well.
When we picked him up, he came running to the car with a huge smile on his face. I took a deep breath and knew that had to be a good sign. He opened the door and immediately handed me a note from his new teacher that said he had a great first day and was very helpful to her. I smiled at my husband, and in that moment, I knew that we had made the right decision for him. He continues to thrive in his new class; his teacher is wonderful and holds him accountable while still understanding that he’s a seven-year-old boy with endless amounts of energy to burn. I am just grateful that I trusted my mama instinct this time around because at the end of the day, mama always knows best.
