A Note to Parents from Teachers

A recent Huffingtonpost.com article (here) stated that U.S. teachers work more than their peers from around the world. According to the article, American elementary school teachers spend 1,131 hours in the classroom. The study’s numbers came out to 6.3 hours per day, which I calculated to be fairly accurate based on a 180-day school year. In some countries, like Hungary and Greece, teachers logged less than 600 hours. Which means they either have really short school years or they only work three hours per day. I think sending my resume to the Athens Unified School District is a no-brainer. I wonder if they have LAUSD’s BIC program there: Baklava in the Classroom. 

Teaching is a rewarding, but challenging career. It calls for the split-second decision making skills of an NFL quarterback and the clock-management techniques of a basketball coach. Teachers must act as referee, psychologist, nurse, and breakfast-server (in my district). We have to know how to fix a copy machine as well as provide our own computer tech support. Teachers must have optimal bladder control in order to survive until recess or lunch while drinking just enough water to avoid getting parched from talking all day long. And then there’s the countless hours of grading, planning, and checking Pinterest for the latest and greatest lesson ideas.

I am honored to work alongside some serious Hall-of-Fame worthy teachers. Additionally, I have several friends who are educators. I polled many of them to find out how parents can best help those of us who have devoted our lives to teaching children. My question excluded spending money. We teachers appreciate AND NEED every donation we receive from our classroom moms and dads. And the monetary support that goes into fundraisers and PTO events is CRUCIAL. But I wanted to see what things my colleagues need from parents that don’t come with price tags.

Before I get to their answers, I would be remiss if didn’t acknowledge and praise the parents who go above and beyond to donate their time to their schools and to their child’s education. Personally, I have some outstanding volunteers this year. And it’s a pleasure to call many “former” parents friends long after their children have moved on.

And I’m sure it goes without saying that many parents feel that their child’s teacher needs to get a clue at times. But we’ll leave that for a later entry. Here’s how the teachers I know asked their classroom parents to help:

Volunteering at School

I can’t put a dollar sign on the importance of helping in the classroom. There is enough paperwork alone in one classroom to keep an administrative assistant busy all day. Helping with the clerical side of things is vital. Let’s say it saves a teacher 15 minutes at the end of the day. Over 180 school days that comes to 45 hours of work.

Volunteers can also help set up art or science projects, make photo copies, grade multiple-choice tests, work with small groups, assist during “centers” time, or give a lesson on something they know a whole lot about. Last year a grandparent, who happened to be a retired teacher, taught art lessons to my students twice a month. I bet there’s a dad out there with a great P.E. lesson to share. Some teachers need help with taking pictures on field trips and on-campus events. One colleague suggested putting together a class website. Other ideas include being a mystery reader and helping in the library or the computer lab. This last one is huge. Try getting three dozen 4^th or 5^th graders to print or save their essays to a flash drive minutes before the bell rings.

Obviously, many parents can’t come to school to volunteer. They’re either at work or at home raising the children who aren’t in school yet. If willing, these parents can take home prep work, especially for a kinder teacher and her endless amount of cutting and gluing projects.

Supporting the Teacher

I expected many teachers to request classroom help, but I never anticipated so many others to put such an emphasis on the need for more support at home.

Said a colleague: “The most helpful thing is when parents speak with respect about school, the teacher, and homework; as well as back up my disciplinary decisions.” One teacher asked parents to embrace the partnership between themselves, the student, and the teacher. Because, she said, a student’s success isn’t solely the teacher’s responsibility. The student plays a role and the parent plays a role. In other words: please teach your children independence; don’t enable them.

Another way to support the teacher is to communicate about your child’s progress or lack thereof. Also asking the teacher what needs to take place to ensure success. We really appreciate knowing what kind of things are going on at home or outside of school that could be affecting classroom performance. Let us know how the child likes class … in a constructive, sensitive way. If issues arise, and they always do, take them to the teacher first before approaching an administrator.

Some teachers requested that parents make themselves more available. A simple wave or smile at drop-off or pickup or asking if we need anything is huge. Even if we don’t need anything right at that moment, the act of asking and checking is so appreciated.

I appreciate the millions of things that parents do. Because instruction is most effective when parents and teachers can work together, communicate clearly, and support one another. I love when parents check and sign homework, send in notes following an absence, let me know in advance when a child is leaving early for an appointment, sign reading logs … and of course provide a sweet treat or two. But please no baklava. Leave that in the office for the principal. He’s Greek.

Becoming Moonlight Graham

In one of my favorite movies, Field of Dreams, Archie “Moonlight” Graham is the doctor turned ballplayer who turns back into doctor. He’s a rookie at Ray Kinsella’s baseball/cornfield and in his one movie at-bat he lofts a lazy flyball to right. It’s good enough for a sacrifice fly and an RBI. But then little Karin chokes on her frankfurter and Moonlight has to get to work. As he crosses over the chalk line, he transforms into the elderly Doc Graham and does a quick Heimlich on Karin. But his baseball days are done. He can’t go back.

In Mozambique, I had my own Doc Graham moment.

I was so thrilled to have been selected for the trip to Moz. But still a little part of me wondered if God really wanted me to be going. Ok, maybe a medium size part of me. A neck-sized part of me. As if being blessed with way more than the required $2,500 wasn’t enough to convince me. Still I doubted. I thought maybe somehow I’d get redlighted along the way. I’d be discovered as the spiritual lightweight I see in the mirror. But somehow I made it onto the airplane in New York and my team was stuck with me.

When we started planning this trip back in February I decided to say, “Yes” to anything that was asked of me. Early morning garage sale? No problem. Handle the T-shirts for the 5K? My pleasure. Raise $2,500? You betcha. Co-lead the team working with the Mozambique children? Sure!

At one meeting we were selecting who was going to preach. Pastor Tim said, “Tones, you have some teaching experience.” Of course I do. If you’re referring the Revolutionary War or about dividing fractions. Now mind you, I hate public speaking like I hate the Yankees and the Redsox combined. I’d rather go through ACL surgery than get up in front of a group and talk. I get nervous and tongue-tied on back-to-school night. And this wasn’t going to be just talking; this was going to be teaching God’s word, to strangers, in a foreign language.

So, I said, “Sure, I’ll do it.”

Pastor Tim, who’s maybe the best preacher this side of the Prime Meridian sent out an email on how to prepare. Pick a scripture, have some application points, boil it down to one key nugget. Piece of cake, I thought. Yeah right. I picked two or three passages but nothing was grabbing me. I emailed some ideas to Tim and he said, “excellent!” But nothing was really lighting a fire under my pulpit.

Finally I decided on the story of Lazarus being raised from the dead. Then I choose a contrasting passage from Ephesians 2:45 … But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved. I read commentaries. I studied. I typed up five pages of notes. I practiced. I read my transcript in the bathtub. I preached to my dog Peetey. But I wasn’t close to being ready.

***

We opened our time in Moz with a two-day conference for pastors. There was a big tent and people traveled days to get there. Pastor Tim and a colleague named Will taught the Apostle’s Creed and the Lord’s Prayer. My team co-leader Melanie taught a group of women. I was slated to teach to a break-out group of men. But scheduling issues cancelled my time. Sweet! I secretly rejoiced! Melanie’s husband Alex still wanted me to teach at some point during the week. He told me to let him know when I wanted to take the stage. Uh, how’ bout never, Alex.  Wrong idea leaving it up to me, Sucka.

The next day, a Tuesday, we visited one of our churches in the area. When we arrived, we learned that a member in the community had died during the night. Yikes, I thought. Maybe a message about Death and Life in Christ was appropriate. I waited for Alex to summon me from the bullpen. I was feeling that tug in my heart. God’s was moving. “I’m really not ready,” I told him. I didn’t want to just get up and read my five-page essay. And yet, there was no way I was going to memorize the whole darn thing. “Just make an outline,” God said back. Duh. Why didn’t I think of that? God always has the best ideas. So, I made an outline and for the rest of the week I practiced the points and illustrations that went along with my outline. Then it was decided. At a church on Sunday, I was going to give the keynote address. Gulp.

***

That Sunday, we drove out another of our churches. It was déjà vu all over again. We arrived to learn that this community had lost someone overnight. It’s customary for people to visit with the family of the deceased so church was late in beginning. Slowly the church began to fill up. My sweat glands started working in overdrive. We sang. We listened a couple of pre-sermon sermons. Pastor Tim gave a word about faith. And then I was up. I stood from my chair. I crossed over the chalk line.

I bypassed Moonlight Graham all the way to Billy Graham.

I was in the zone. With my outline at my side, I brought it like a Clayton Kershaw curveball. I nailed it like a Kevin Durant jumper. It hit on all my points. My teammates said the crowd was eating it up. They said the people were really being blessed. I talked about my own experience with death, that of my mom. I told about what it means to be alive in Christ. I gave my application points. I closed with the fact that someone in a country without  a lot of elderly people, where the life expectancy is just north of 52-years-old, doesn’t have to fear death. I remember jumping up and down when describing how Christ has stomped out death. I remember actually going up to the guy with the bongo drum and rapping out a little applause of my own. I remember falling to my knees when I described the memory of God flooding me with grace and peace when I said goodbye to my mom. I don’t remember much else. But do remember one thing: IT WAS FUN! It was as enjoyable as racing from first to third on a single. I loved it as much as making a sliding catch in leftfield. Only it wasn’t me. No way even close. It was all God.

It was total confirmation that I was supposed to be on this trip. How crazy is God to give me a message about Life and Death, cancel my teaching at the Pastor’s Conference, talk to me about an outline, and then pick a perfect moment for his message to be delivered? And I liked doing it. Me loving public speaking is about as likely and Martha Stewart rebuilding a '57 Chevy.

Needless to say it was my pinnacle Philippians 4:13 moment (I can do all things through him who gives me strength).

***

But now what? I really needed the reminder that God comes through in mighty ways in times of weakness. It’s so easy to ask him for help when we’re faced with major or frightening challenges. We should do this. Dependency upon his strength is key in these times. The same God who parted the Red Sea and raised Lazarus from the dead still moves mountains. But what I realized is that I most often fail to depend on this strength during the daily the events of life. I so often try to survive on my own might. Face it; most of life isn’t as daunting as preaching in Moz. But life is still challenging. Maybe asking for help in doing the things I think I do well enough on my own is more crucial than just waiting for the scary times? Like when I’m teaching?

Or when I need to love somebody who’s hurt me or ticked me off?

Or when I’m feeling lonely?

Or simply trying to be a joyful light-bearing encouragement to others?

Moonlight Graham put his baseball career behind him and helped a lot of people as the small-town doctor in Chisholm, Minnesota. He only had to go to Iowa to find a better way to live.

I had to go all the way to Mozambique.