Mom in the Know: When Is It No Longer My Business?

I had a clever topic all primed for my next article, but ditched it about five minutes ago. If I don’t vent this right now, I’m going to hit send on an email that should probably simmer in my drafts for another 24 hours before I decide whether to unleash my mom fury.

Compounding my frenzy this particular evening is the fact that my exasperation is aimed toward one of my own—a teacher! In fact, the only reason my somewhat passive-aggressive, relatively snarky, and totally remonstrating email is still in the drafts folder is my allegiance to the profession. Believe me, I really, really want to let this one have it.

Allow me to set the stage. My husband and I have a fairly decent track record of producing responsible humans who, for the most part, hold themselves accountable, have been taught to self-advocate, and are genuinely decent, hardworking individuals. Suffice it to say, our history shows we might know a thing or two about raising a child by the time the curtain rises on this particular act. Perfect? Hell no. All-in? Hell yes. These kids are our life‘s passion. So, when I reach out to seek clarification for something involving my child and am lectured for getting involved, well…

I have so many thoughts.

First, know your audience. I’m not your average, annoying helicopter mom. I have too many kids (8) to hover. I’m more of a bumper bowler. Put up the guard rails, let things bounce around a bit, keep ‘em in their lane and out of the gutter. So, please don’t tell me to stay out of it. I stayed out as long as I could. I don’t have time for this either.

Next, you are in a people profession. Even if you are annoyed, too busy, or burdened by questions, at the very least it is your job to help those you are hired to serve. If you dislike people as much as your email tone implies, a career re-evaluation might be in order. I’m sorry you are so unhappy. That must really suck.

Third, and this is the crux of my concern, tell me, Indy Moms, at what point is it no longer a parent’s business to inquire about an educational matter concerning their child? For real. Asking for me. As a former professional educator and now a teacher-coach, I am thrilled to have families actively involved in their child’s education—same team mindset. As a parent, I am coaching my child through life, and I can’t do it without the information, knowledge, and skills you (insert teacher, coach, etc.) have. I’m not doing this FOR my child. I am doing this WITH my child. If my kid was successfully navigating this experience or even failing it with all the right tools, you would not hear a peep out of me. So, instead of withholding information that I clearly would not have asked for if I didn’t need it, can you please stifle the self-righteous speech and partner with a parent who is trying to help a kid? (Emphasis on kid.)

And finally, I. Am. The. Parent. Period. Exclamation! The End. Even though I actually DO know how to do your job, I never presumed to tell you how to do it (unless I hit send on the aforementioned rager sitting in my drafts). It is not your place to tell me how to parent. I dry the tears, cheer from the sidelines, pay the bills, navigate the mistakes, and share in every high and low in this human‘s life. Not you. If I ask, I need to know. And, this kid is mine, so, yes, TOTALLY my business. Every day, every time.

In summary, fellow mothers, I have vented enough to restrain my caustic retort to this clearly misguided, ill-informed, and under-caffeinated teacher. It is the end of the school year, after all. She deserves way more grace than her snotty email gave me (or my kid). I’ll use her to teach my child how to navigate judgmental and uncooperative people. I’ll use her to teach that negativity damages both those who receive it and those who dish it (like, you might get put on blast in a moms’ blog). I’ll use her to show how this mama bear will always go to bat for her cub. I use her to show how to respond rather than react (hence no send button). But what I’m not going to do is sheepishly fade into the sunset after a teacher tongue-lashing, nor am I willing to feign indifference. I’m simply not going to spend any more energy on this person and keep on coaching up my kid. We will work the issue together, and that’s pretty cool.