An Open Letter To The Three Parents With Whom I Had Discipline Conversations Today While Wearing a Polka Dot Bow Tie

Dear The Three Parents With Whom I Had Discipline Conversations Today While Wearing a Polka Dot Bow Tie,

First, I'd like to thank you. All three of you came in without me even asking to discuss behavior issues that your children have been having in school. You took the time to not just return a phone call, but to physically come into the school and prove to your child how seriously you take their education and anything that might threaten their education, such as, at times, their own choices. You joined me in sending your child a consistent message about what we expect of them and what they are capable of. Although I've know some of you, in the past, to question the fairness of consequences in front of your children, today you kept the conversation productively focused on their behavior and clearly communicated to your child that their parents and teachers are a united front and that we know they can do better.

Now I'd like to explain why I was wearing a polka dot bow tie. See, today our middle school decided to participate in the informal holiday Bow Tie Monday, or #bowtiemonday, if you will. It is, as my colleague and the architect of this occasion referred to it, "the only thing we do for no reason." And I would definitely say it contributed to building a positive culture in our middle school. The thing about wearing a bow tie, though, is that it is very easy to forget you are wearing a bow tie, even if said bow tie makes you look like Winston Churchill. So when you came in to discuss your child's suspension/ detention/ double-detention, respectively, I did not realize I was wearing one. The apparent silliness of me wearing a bow tie might have been mitigated had your own child, or a critical mass of other students, also been wearing bow ties... but of course, Bow Tie Monday, being a Monday, was forgotten about by 95% of our students -- the classic folly of anything on a Monday. And so, when you came to find me, and I shook your hand, and we gravely discussed your child's recent challenges... I looked like Pee-Wee Herman, or a 19th century aristocrat, or a zany teacher who explodes things a lot. And yet you didn't react in any way, and we carried on our serious conversation like two adults, not like one adult and one male toddler dressed for a wedding.

So I guess my point, again, is thanks.

Respectfully,
Your Child's Teacher