parent teacher conferences
a somewhat sequel to this - no edits we post like men in the service canada
Miss Kathleen Stewart considers herself a level headed young woman. Graduating teacher’s college at the top of her class, and landing a position at an esteemed Chicago school right away was a feather in her cap.
Her students were, for the most part, bright and willing to learn. But the rambunctious, chattering few were a challenge, she told herself, reminding herself that that’s what she got for choosing to teach fourth grade.
Miss Stewart loved her students, even the troublemakers. She can handle them.
“Oh, Kathie, you can’t discipline these kids,” a colleague once told her. “Don’t you know who their parents are?”
That’s what she got for teaching at a prestigious private school - self-involved parents, who think they know better.
“My job is to make sure my students succeed, not to make their parents happy,” she had replied in the most diplomatic tone she could muster.
The tittering laughter of the teachers lounge echoes in her mind as she welcomes parents into her classroom for parent-teacher conferences.
Some parents want more focus on the history of hunting, more practical training, and less modern issues.
Miss Stewart has been patient, outlining her curriculum and concerns regarding each student to the disparaging reactions of their parents.
She’s about at her rope’s end when Nolan Rivers’ parents arrive, partway down the alphabet.
They’re prompt, waiting outside her classroom with a surly Nolan, his John Deere hat pulled low over his face. It’s clear the man, knees tucked comically almost up to his shoulders in the children’s sized chair, sitting next to him in a near identical hat is his father.
If Nolan’s dad looks too young to have a fourth grader, his mother looks like she shouldn’t have any kids at all.
Doctor Rachkova - other teachers had warned Miss Stewart about her - is on her phone, the clack of her heels echoing on the tile as she paces, a worn Birkin bag on one arm. She can’t be more than 20, about Miss Stewart’s own age, but she’s reminded of bits of gossip, of how Doctor Rachkova, and her children, don’t age the same as other humans.
Miss Stewart clears her throat.
Nolan’s head snaps up; he sinks further into his seat as his father stands, shaking out his legs a bit.
“You must be Miss Stewart,” he says, his voice a gentle rumble. “I’m Lucas Rivers, Nolan’s dad. Please um, pardon my wife,” he says with obvious pride, “She’s just dealing with a um, situation over at her lab.”
“That’s no problem Mr. Rivers,” Miss Stewart replies, as Dr. Rachkova snaps at the person on the other end of the line, abruptly ending the call. “Come on in.”
“Nolan, stay here,” Dr. Rachkova says, leaning over to kiss the top of her son’s head, striding into the classroom ahead of her husband.
Miss Stewart sits behind her desk, fidgeting with a loc draped over her chest before pushing it behind her shoulder with the rest, as Nolan’s parents sit in the adult-sized chairs she’d brought into the room.
“Please tell me Nolan isn’t causing any trouble,” Dr Rachkova says without preamble. Miss Stewart is impressed by her brashness; she knows she probably won’t be happy with the answer.
“I’m afraid I can’t say that,” Miss Stewart says slowly, as the doctor tips her head back.
“He’s an active little guy, he needs to move to focus,” Mr. Rivers says thoughtfully, “Not like Auggie.”
“August takes more after me,” Dr. Rachkova explains, as Miss Stewart wracks her brain for who August is.
All she does is nod.
“I just want Nolan to be able to succeed. If he’s being disruptive, I want you to tell him. Find a way where he learns best,” Dr. Rachkova says firmly, surprising the teacher.
“We’ll do what you recommend, Miss Stewart,” her husband adds.
At a loss for words, Miss Stewart nods.
The Rachkov-Rivers listen as she lays out Nolan’s grades, and her plan for channeling his mischievous nature into focus, and better relationships with other students.
“Sound plans Miss Stewart,” Dr. Rachkova says, “You let us know how we can help from home.”
Miss Stewart only nods at the scientist, standing from her chair to collect her designer bag, her husband rising as well, tipping his cap back a little.
“It was nice to meet you both,” she says, opening the classroom door. “I’ll keep you posted.”
“Thanks, Miss S,” Mr. Rivers says with a smile, Nolan leaping to his feet as they leave.
“Am I in trouble?” he asks suspiciously, as his mother takes his hand.
“Not yet, Noshka,” she says, as the three of them walk down the hall, away from the surprised teacher.
