First I Was Afraid ... I Was Petrified

Today was one of the days that I dread most during the year: Parent/Teacher Conference Day.

Ohhhhh, I would rather have root canal, or leprosy, or that thing where they cut your tongue down the middle so each little fork moves independently (GAH! That is so freaky!)

It's not that I've had bad experiences with parents, although one time I did cry during a conference (give me a break; I was 22, and I'd been accused of giving a grade based on, apparently, RACISM, for crying out loud).

I always build it up into this huge THING in my head, and then the parents come in and they're all like, "I know it's my child's fault that he/she has a bad grade, and we're going to work really hard to make sure it doesn't happen again," etc. etc. And meanwhile, I'm like, "Whew!"

The thing I hate most is when a parent BRINGS THE CHILD INTO THE CONFERENCE. Hello!! It is not called Parent/Teacher/Student Conference, people! What's even worse is when they start to yell at the child IN FRONT OF ME.

Parent: Why can't you do better than this?
Child: [silence]
Parent: ANSWER ME!!!
Child: [mutters] I don't know.
Parent: Well, you'll get a better grade next time, or you'll be grounded for the
rest of your life. LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU!!!
Me: [awkwardly staring at ceiling]

sigh ... And I get to do it again Tuesday.