I am the class teacher of a fifth form class. Fifth form is the first year of secondary school here.
I have to call a student’s parent during my lunch break. This student has been missing homework, school materials, parent’s signatures for graded assignments and tests, etc. The student’s mother answers the phone.
Me: “Hello, this is Ms. [My Name], [Student]’s class teacher. Do you have a few minutes to speak? I am calling you today because we have noticed that [Student] has not been doing his homework regularly and often forgets things such as books, pencils, and signatures for tests and such.”
Mother: “Well, he hasn’t told me anything about this. That’s a problem, and he should be doing his homework. Thank you for letting me know.”
Me: “No problem. So, since he’s starting to fall behind due to missing homework and materials, I think it would be helpful if you helped him stay on top of his assignments and made sure he packs his bag.”
Mother: “He is so disorganised. He really should know better.”
Me: “Well, he is ten. Many children that age struggle with this level of organisation and need some support.”
Mother: “I didn’t even know he had exams. He never tells me anything!”
We’re four months into the school year. You might think parents would expect some tests and assignments by now.
Me: “As I said, many kids struggle with this at the age of ten. So, if you could just make sure he has his bag packed and his homework done at night and check for anything that needs to be signed—”
Mother: “I don’t know what to do with him. He is so messy! At this age, he should know better!”
This part of the conversation is repeated several times, including some tales about her older children who are just as disorganised, until I can finally get to somewhat of an agreement with her. The call has been going on for well over ten minutes now.
Me: “Thank you for your help. I think by working together we can get [Student] back on track with his studies.”
Mother: “Oh, one more thing.”
Uh-oh…
Mother: “[Student] has been coming home with severe headaches and stomachaches these last few weeks.”
Me: “Oh, that doesn’t sound good. He hasn’t mentioned anything to us. Do you know what might cause these?”
Mother: “He also keeps bringing home a full lunchbox — completely untouched. I asked him about it, and he said that he often can’t eat during recess because he’s playing with his friends. And sometimes he doesn’t like the lunch I packed.”
Me: “Uh-huh…?”
Mother: “So, could you please make sure that he eats his lunch and drinks some water during recess? And if he forgets, perhaps he can quickly eat and drink at the beginning of the following lesson?”
I end up explaining several times that, no, this is not possible as: a) I am not with the kids all day — I have other classes, too, and b) the second option wouldn’t be fair to the other students who actually eat lunch during recess. The mother repeatedly interjects with buts and ifs and lengthy explanations of how severe [Student]’s headaches and stomachaches are.
Mother: *Sighs* “I see. But if he doesn’t like his lunch, could you at least accompany him to the cafeteria and make sure he buys something to eat there?”
Me: “No. As I said, I have other classes, and recess duty on some days. I’m sorry, but I cannot—”
Mother: “Well, I will talk to him about it. I hope he’ll remember… It is a pity that you cannot sacrifice a bit of your time for your students.”
Me: *Really biting my tongue* “I see. Thank you for your cooperation. Have a good day.”
Unfortunately, this wasn’t the only phone call. A few months later, I had to call her again after sending home several notes to ask her to PLEASE teach her son to tie his shoelaces; he kept tripping and falling over them while running around during recess, and he got hurt a few times. Several teachers (me included) took the time to try and teach him during recess. He eventually learned — almost a year later.
