The exhausted dad: The sting of missing a parent-teacher conference

I don’t take personal compliments well, but I love it when people praise my kids.

Awkwardness reigns if, on rare occasions, someone compliments me or my work. I live under the constant pressure of imposter syndrome, especially in my current school endeavors, so I find it difficult to accept that anyone considers my performance to be, well, acceptable.

But my kids? Yeah, they’re awesome. Tell it to me all day, every day.

I understand most parents wear beer goggles regarding the achievements of their own children. They should. If you’re not the loudest cheerleader for your own kids, then how can you expect anybody else to lead the charge?

My wife and I don’t care so much about our kids’ individual academic or athletic achievements. We value effort and demonstrations of good character. Practicing those skills will better help prepare children for the many perils of adulthood, in my opinion.

Setting aside the subjective parenting philosophies though, I must admit I like being validated in my opinions. My kids are cool! It must be true because this objective third person said so!

One opportunity for such validation is the ritual of parent-teacher conferences. There’s certainly no guarantee that such a conference will go well, but I genuinely believe teachers are the special kind of people who can see the good in almost anyone.

Having four kids means attending many conferences, and with my own busy school schedule this year, my wife took the lead and handled all the conferences this recent term. That’s taking a huge parenting task off my plate (she has a full-time job too), and it’s just one of a thousand things she’s managed in my awkward transition from stay-at-home-dad to full-time student.

While I appreciate my wife’s time and efforts, I’m also lamenting my absence at this round of conferences. I genuinely love all three of my elementary-age kids’ primary teachers, and my sixth-grader has her own set of excellent educators helping her navigate treacherous middle school waters (ugh, more on that in future columns).

Hearing my wife report back from these conferences filled my heart with so much pride for these wild Wilson kids. Their teachers had such kind things to say about them, I selfishly wanted to hear them say the words with my own ears.

“He works so hard, and all the other kids in the class are incredibly fond of him.”

“She is so supportive of her classmates.”

“He is the funniest, sweetest little character, and he brings me joy just speaking to him.”

“She puts in so much good effort and is wonderful to have in class.”

Do these teachers say that to every parent? Probably. But they also shared concrete examples to support their claims.

I must single out one in particular: My son’s third-grade teacher. We came to her with documentation and classroom recommendations on his ADHD and dyslexia diagnoses, and she immediately went about implementing and adjusting strategies that would best help him learn.

One thing my son needs is frequent clarification. He asks questions about instructions until he feels confident that he knows what to do. This teacher probably gets the same question from him 3-4 times over a five-minute period (that’s certainly the case at home), but because she knows it works for him, she repeats patiently until he feels good about what he needs to do. As a result, his performance, and more importantly, his confidence in schoolwork has never been better.

I know this isn’t anything special. The vast majority of teachers are amazing. Hearing about these conferences second hand from my wife made me feel so good about my kids. But I also felt guilty for not being there to hear it for myself. The kids are doing so well, and because of my schedule and school commitments, I’m missing out in some respects. Are they thriving because I’m not the “stay-at-home dad” in charge anymore?

Then I remember how much imposter syndrome I felt when I was the stay-at-home dad taking the lead on parent-teacher conferences and child care. I’m pretty sure I was terrible at all that too!

If I look at it objectively, I don’t think it has anything to do with my performance or middling self-esteem. One of the purest joys of parenting is watching your kids grow and become fully-formed, unique people. That joy also comes with pain because it all happens so fast. It feels like a minute ago that I was rocking my infant daughter to sleep. If I blink, she might well have graduated high school.

If I must miss any more parent-teacher conferences, I might need someone to record them in their entirety.

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Tyler Wilson is a freelance writer, full-time student and parent to four kids, ages 5-11. He is tired. He can be reached at twilson@cdapress.com.