Tomorrow night we get to meet Magoo’s teacher for first grade. Who said he was allowed to start first grade? It wasn’t me. I’m still a bit miffed that he learned to walk. But with or without my consent, he keeps growing older and older and next week he starts full day school, big boy school, I-don’t-care-if-you-want-to-it’s-to-time-for-reading school. And he will have a teacher. And tomorrow night we get to meet her.
Meet the teacher nights are always a little strange for me. The teacher is in the classroom like a lobster on display and we’re all checking her out, tapping the glass, trying to figure out who she is and what she’s going to offer our children for the next ten months. We get to speak for maybe thirty seconds.
So she’s got thirty seconds to make a stunning first impression and unlike a lobster at the grocery store, we’re trying hard to impress her too. Because in those thirty seconds, we’re telling the teacher a lot about our child and our family. From the way we dress and our posture to the way we treat her and each other, we’re giving her a glimpse into what she can expect from our child and family in the coming year.
Of course, that first night isn’t everything and we have all year for our partnership to evolve, but there’s something about that first night that makes me nervous. We want to like her and for her to like us so badly. How we feel about each other can really affect the educational experience for the next year.
This year our teacher is new to the school so we have no preconceived notions about her. There’s no good or bad baggage or parent gossip, just a clean slate and a chance to for a strong friendship as we work together to help Magoo grow and develop.
Hopefully, there will be no meltdowns in the classroom. I’d like to save that until at least the second time we meet her.