Working with the Schools

When I was teaching in the classroom I had amongst my students a number who came from countries other than the U.S.  Many spoke English well enough to communicate with me and with the school administration, some did not.  Those who did not I spoke with in Spanish, or invited a translator to facilitate our communication.  But one thing that always surprised me was something that, without realizing my prejudices, I took as disrespect for the school.  When I sent home work, it would only sometimes be acknowledged with a signature, or if I needed a permission form for a field trip it would not always come in the what-I-took-to-be-easy form that I had sent out.  Sometimes papers would be returned but with rips or stains, or other markings. Little did I know the back story behind the misunderstandings…

Well, this year, even more so than when we first moved to Canada, I am that immigrant parent.  I am the one who always questions the directeur/directrice of the boys’ schools about the sign posted up for parents.  Every other parent seems to know what will occur when the teachers strike, every other parent seems unconcerned with the notice that a docteur will be examining all the children.  Yet there I was, asking if I would need to provide the vaccination records again, or if my children were still able to go to school despite the striking teachers.  (The answer was yes, as only some of the pre-determined teachers were striking, but not the ones who taught my children.  However lunch was not served on that day for any of the children, regardless of who taught them.)

I am the parent who really hesitated when the teacher asked for a change of clothes to be sent in Noah’s backpack.  The boy only has five outfits, and sending one in the backpack meant one less choice for the other days.  Plus his number of long pants and long-sleeve shirts is even fewer, so Noah’s “change” will stay as shorts and a t-shirt through-out the winter season.  I also fretted quite a bit to see the paint stains on his t-shirt earlier this fall, as I wasn’t sure it was washable paint and to wear a stained t-shirt in France seems to be quite frowned upon.

I am the parent who signed my permission for Julian’s field trip in the “liaison” notebook because there was no other obvious place to sign.  I am the parent who sent in a ripped field trip form to Noah’s teacher because I left the important paper on the place where it was most likely to be seen and dealt with – the kitchen table.  The form was later dripped on and then torn in its removal from the table.  I am the one who sent in her parent representative election form with a butter stain, for the same reason. (I think there is a strong message here but, for the life of me, I cannot think of another free visible surface in this home.)

I have also used our non-French status to explain to my kids that if we mess up with the schools there probably will be a little bit of flexibility allowed exactly because we are unfamiliar with the language and the system.  When we kept the kids out of school this morning to go and pick up their cartes du sejour, Julian asked me if he would need an absentee slip in order to reenter the school.  (Each child is allotted exactly eight absentee slips, and we have hopes of a few extra holidays for travel afar.) I decided not to send any in, as I had already spoken with the principals and no mention was made of needing a slip. And if one was needed, I would play my I-didn’t-know-about-that card.

So I guess all this is to say that I have a better understanding now of why a little bit more flexibility and understanding on the behalf of immigrant families is vital to the success of home/school communications.  We all are trying the very best that we can, and we are all improving bit by bit, even if it is hard for the schools and teachers to see.  I am just that bit more humble on a daily basis.  And I am glad for that.