Teachers Play Favorites

I hate to be the bearer of uncomfortable news, but here it is...teachers play favorites.

As a parent, I hope you never find this out by experience. The truth is, you might not believe me unless your child is not among the favored ones. Or you might notice if a teacher tells you something about another child that you'd shudder to think she was saying about yours.

Unlike the whole "teacher's pet" of yesteryear, today's teachers are more equal-opportunity. Teachers don't just have one or two favorites, they usually have several. And there are very few that they find, well, less likable. Remember, teachers are only human. They are just as drawn to friendly, attractive, bright children as you are. The only problem is, as a parent, you automatically find your own child to be friendly, attractive and bright. So it wouldn't even occur to you that your child's teacher wouldn't immediately love your child, too. However, when a teacher surveys a class of 25 children, he or she simply doesn't see them all the way their parents do.

I have to deal with this uncomfortable fact this year. OK, painful fact. You see, my first grader, Thomas, is simply not one of his teacher's favorites.

I can tell. I can tell because at his conference she asked me if he pestered me with questions the way he pesters her. I can tell because the only anecdote she told me about him was that he asked her, "are we going to read this book all year?" I can tell because the only work sample she highlighted was the shortest entry in his journal. I can tell because when I asked her how he was doing socially, she said he was an elitist. When I asked her what she meant, she said that one time he was reluctant to help out a struggling classmate who couldn't read as well as he could. (When I asked Thomas about it later, he said that the kid was mean to him on the playground).

But I can mostly tell because of what she didn't say.

She didn't have specific stories about him, she didn't smile when she talked about him, she didn't have much to share at all. And when I mentioned he had a playdate with another little boy in the class, she lit up and said, "Oh, now HE'S adorable!" and she actually (I still can't quite believe it) got up and ran to her desk to show me a picture this OTHER KID made for her. And a book that the OTHER KID wrote that he dedicated to her.

I can tell.

I ended the conference with the desperate, sinking question, "Are you enjoying my Thomas?" Of course she said yes, but the sinking feeling was still there.

I know that she's wrong about him. I know my son's not an elitist. I know when he asked if they would read the book all year, he just wanted to know what to expect, he wasn't saying he didn't enjoy it. I know when he pesters her with questions, it's because he's feeling nervous, and if she gave him a reassuring word he would settle down and work. But she doesn't know all this. And I won't waste my breath telling her. She won't believe me anyway. She needs to see for herself.

Teachers draw conclusions about kids based on a few examples of behavior early in the year. I can hope that my son's behaviors will reveal who he really is in time. I can hope she'll change her mind about him. I can hope he'll win her over. I can hope.

Or I can act.

I know she has drawn conclusions based on my son's behaviors. So guess what I did? I swallowed my disappointment. I swallowed my frustration. I swallowed my pain. And talked to my son.

When I came home from the conference, I told him he was doing great. Because he is. But I also told him to change some of those behaviors. I told him it is annoying when he asks the same questions again and again, whether he's asking us, or his teachers, or anyone. I told him people will think he doesn't like an activity if he asks if it will be over soon. And I told him that when a teacher asks him to do something, even help another child who he doesn't like, he should do it, just like he should help his brother when we ask him to. And I am repeating these lessons whenever they naturally arise.

Why would I go to such lengths? Why ask my child to act differently, just because his teacher drew the wrong conclusions about him? Why make it my son's problem that his teacher doesn't have a soft spot in her heart for him, at least not yet?

Because when I was a teacher, I know there were a few kids who made my heart smile. And there were other kids that I had to remind myself were somebody's babies. But I didn't think I played favorites. I taught each according to his or her needs. The children who were disrespectful, or angry, or sullen, still got the best I had to offer as a teacher. But maybe, just maybe, they didn't get the best I had to offer as a person.

You see, in teacher-speak, playing favorites stems from a process called building rapport. You try to build a relationship with each of your students ... get to know their likes and dislikes, their strengths and weaknesses, what makes them tick. And in this process, you get drawn to some kids more than others. Kids who remind you of yourself, perhaps, or of your own kids. Kids who work harder than others, or who seem more polite or kind than their peers, or kids who have the sweetest smiles you have ever seen.

And what teachers don't realize, and what I didn't realize when I had my own students, is that the human connection you make with these kids makes you praise them with a little more enthusiasm, encourage them with a little more patience, comfort them with a little more empathy.

So that's why I coached my son to be a bit more attractive to his teacher. It may not work, but I have to try. Because I know how she feels about him will make a difference. Whether he knows it or not. And whether she knows it or not.

I know it.