Parents' Night - Gripe

So I've just survived another parent night at my sons' high school. Just. Please do not misunderstand, for I am very keen to attend parents' night and to see my sons' teachers. I'm very keen. Oh yeah. I want to spend five hurried minutes discussing an entire year's worth of progress or lack thereof in each subject (there are 12) with each teacher my son sees. I want to be stressed for two hours on a Thursday evening, while I try to see all said teachers and ask all the questions I have. It would have helped if I'd brought the list. The report came in handy, but that is another gripe.

Actually, kudos to the teachers because they seem to know my sons (this week it was the younger one who is in his first year at high school) even though they teach hundreds of young people, sometimes more than one subject. They also seem to know exactly how he is doing and to be able to offer suggestions for his improvement. He needs it. Most of the teachers were willing to discuss things further over email because, let's face it, five minutes just isn't enough.

No, my gripe is not with the teachers. It's with the other parents. To be fair, each one of them is probably as stressed about the whole night as I am. But the fierce competition that arises for vacated seats in front of teachers is unparalleled anywhere in the animal kingdom. This year, I had a big gap between appointments and tried to slide in ahead of schedule where I could. Big mistake. I was attempting to get finished early since it was also the poor young son's birthday. How's that for a present? A report card and parents' night? When I was nearly physically run over for a seat, I decided to stick to the appointment times.

When I was a high school student, my parents had to meet each teacher in the classroom, alone, in private. Nowadays, that isn't deemed safe for parents or teachers, so we have to convene in the assembly hall and library. Teachers sit at small tables, sign posted with their names and subjects, and parents sit in rows of seats facing the teachers. This means that while you have your meeting, others can potentially hear what is being said, but worse, they stare at the back of your head, boring holes while they mentally oust you so they can make their own time slot. I try not to let that bother me, but I also try to keep to the five minutes. There's a small, spiteful part of me that wants to take the entire five minutes even on the rare occasion that only three are needed. However, unless someone's been really nippy in the queue, I don't let the small part take over.

Every year I tell myself to just relax, go in, sit down, wait for the teacher to call me, take my five minutes, and move on to the next appointment. Every year, within two minutes, I blow it. There's just this whole edgy vibe that I succumb to despite my good intentions. It's a little like boarding an EasyJet plane. Once one person moves toward the gate, everyone goes, including me, shoving my way to the front lest I be shoved.

What happens after my zen state promises get broken is that I, too, look at other people's appointment sheets to see who's got the earlier slot. I, too, edge closer to the backs of the parent chairs so that I can jump in as soon as the parents in them get up. I begin to stare at the backs of heads. I, too, ask if the people who've beat me to the jump actually have the time before mine. I, too, become someone I can't stand. It's ugly. It's parents' night.

This year, once I decided to let go of the competitive spirit, I did manage to relax and actually have pleasant conversations with other parents' night weary mothers and one father. It was kind of fun. It was also nice that some of their kids knew my son and said nice things about him at home. I couldn't say the same. My son's comments about school hover around the "I don't know," or the "I don't remember," region. That's why parents' night is important. Someone's got to tell me what he gets up to and how he is doing. Luckily for me and for him, he does have good teachers who can do just that, even in the short space of five minutes.