A few months back I was in a classroom visiting. Not at all an uncommon thing as I tend to make my rounds as regularly as my schedule allows. The more time I spend in the classroom, the more time I get to do the things I love most: interacting where learning is the focus. I don’t work in a school that forces principals to teach a class, though I wouldn’t turn my nose up at the idea. It’s the best possible way to ensure that, after going to the Dark Side, I can stay in touch with what it is that teachers care about: kids who are learning.

When I visit a classroom it’s kind of old hat and no one tends to look up to see who has just walked in to observe. Last month I started keeping scraps of paper in a journal about each visit so I could remember what was going on. Most times, I leave a note for a teacher to offer my insights into what learning was happening or what good teaching I witnessed. Other times I just tell them in person about my time in their classroom.

In the month of March I found that my scraps of paper were adding up and started organizing them along with notes I’ve received from students over the years. I’ve been lucky enough, as an educator, to get them at all sorts of odd times. Once, after a student and I clashed over her behavior and I became increasingly frustrated with her I yelled, “You know, it’s hard to talk to you sometimes because I know you know better and you keep making stupid decisions about things!” and that, unfortunately, hurt her feelings. I apologized moments later, but she had already escalated into anger and suddenly she was spewing obscenities and stormed out. I never expected to receive a letter of apology later and that note, along with countless others, have made their way into my collection.

Sometimes, when I go into a classroom, I take some paper with me and try to just casually note behaviors of the students because there are so many things I get to see that I don’t want to miss. Other times, teachers just hand me the same assignment that students are working on so that I can do them, too. I’ve never missed an opportunity to do a writing assignment as I know the power in adults sharing their writing and being metacognitive about their process. Just like the last two years that I’ve done this, one teacher in particular invites me to her room to tell students why I love chapter 11 from To Kill a Mockingbird and the students, unlike when I was teaching them, were at rapt attention. Visitors in classrooms should always ALWAYS share their thoughts and invite students to share them as well because that right there is a golden opportunity.

Here are some of the notes I’ve written recently. Sometimes, I just write dialogue that I have with students.

A note I wrote. In a math classroom:

Samantha has twice forgotten how to do the number line. Suzette and Jasmine are kicking ass. She’s quiet, but Alanna asks questions as necessary. Samantha, unfortunately, wants everyone to know why she’s behind. She’s been suspended for three days. I ask her what is so hard about this lesson. She responds, “It’s the words. It’s not the math so much on this problem, it’s the definitions. It’s not a lot of math, but a lot of definitions.” Samantha does keep asking questions, though. After the lesson, the teacher says, “I don’t know about you guys but I’m not feeling good about this.” Almost in unison, several students reply, “Neither are we.” He decides to review it again and not go on to the next problem. THIS IS EXCELLENT TEACHING.

Outside an English classroom:

Deangelo: Can I talk to you for a minute before we go in? And when we’re done, will you please call attendance so they don’t be trippin’?

Me: How will it sound if I say it like that?

Deangelo: I dunno.

Me (pretending to talk on a phone): Ok. Hang on. I’ll do it. ‘Hi, attendance office? I need to make sure Deangelo isn’t marked absent this hour. He’ll be with me and his teacher may mark him absent before we get in there. He wanted me to tell you so that you don’t be trippin’.’ See how that sounded, Deangelo?

Deangelo: Yeah.

Me: And? How did it sound?

Deangelo: It sounded goooooood.

In a science classroom where I’d been sitting in the back of the room all hour at a student desk:

Heather (a student): I didn’t even see you! What are you doing here?

Me: Being a ninja. I thought I was invisible.

In an English classroom:

Chase: Are you in here all hour?

Me: Yes. (Pause) I’m evaluating.

Chase: Are we doing good?

Me. I’m not evaluating you. If I were, though, you’d be doing well. (I overemphasize the word well.)

Chase: Is she doing well?

Me: Yes, she is. I see a lot of differentiating of instruction, there’s student engagement, and there’s a plan for your learning.

CRICKETS. Chase stares blankly at me.

Me: Basically, she’s doing a lot of things to make sure that all students are learning. But here’s the thing. YOU know when teachers are doing well. Don’t you?

Chase: Of course I do! I sit in classrooms all day long.

Me (smiling at him, knowingly) : I know. I thought you’d have an opinion.

Chase: Then why don’t y’all listen to us when we tell you that we have a bad teacher? Some teachers suck.

I just take a deep breath because I can’t answer this succinctly and Chase, like most students, has no idea the number of people working in a school who are trying to extract excellent teaching. Recently, when I asked parents what the words “parent involvement” meant to them I was astounded at the different experiences people had with either their own schooling as a child as well as the ones in which parents wanted to share their background with their children’s teachers. A great number of readers asked me what I, as a teacher, would want from parents. When I reflect on that I take myself right back to the classroom. I wanted parents to be interested in their kids, I wanted them to ask me for help in studying with their child, I wanted parents to hear my side of the story as a teacher when their kids complained about something I assigned or said or did.

As a seasoned educator, though, I’ve grown weary of hearing that parents don’t care about their children. That just isn’t true. As much as I try to listen to kids, I try to listen to adults and the adults I want most to hear from are parents. Sometimes, they don’t come across as supportive or engaging, but they care. For two years in a row my student Daniel had an angry mom. She yelled at me all the time. All. the time. She threatened me, lied to me, and make excuses for her son. (Her threats were always ridiculous, too. She said that her mom, Daniel’s grandmother, was going to “come up there and whoop your ass” and honestly, I couldn’t help but laugh at this.) (I also kept giving her directions to my office. Shocker! No one ever showed up to beat the crap out of me.) She didn’t love her son any less than any other parent and she wanted to protect him from the horrible encounters that she had as a student.

So, yes. Even the Daniel’s Mommas of the world are invited into education. They make it harder and I get sick of their antics, but they don’t know how to act in a school setting. Hell, they probably act even WORSE when out in the general public. They still care, though, just not in the way we would like. I would like to keep working with them and teaching them how they can help their child at home.

I will keep writing down my observations with them, too.