Reflections on a Conversation with My Son
by Lisa Miller - Classroom Matters Co-Director
Me: (sounding panicked) Son, your teacher emailed me because you're getting a D in his class.
Son: (gruffly) Yeah, I know. I'm handling it.
Reflection: You're a senior in high school. You should have this figured out by now. Next year, your college professors won't bother to reach out to you; they'll just fail you. This is so frustrating. I am not feeling at all confident about your ability to be successful without a lot of scaffolding. How can this be happening? I am a failure as a parent! Okay, breathe. Get it together!
Me: (voice cracking) Okay. I'm glad you're on top of it. What's the plan?
Son: (annoyed) I am going to email my teacher and ask to turn the work in late. It's not that deep.
Reflection: Really? You're annoyed with me?? That's rich. Okay, I know he's actually annoyed with himself. Keep your perspective. At least he knows how to self-advocate. I need to focus on the positive.
Me: (faking calm) Sounds good. The term is over on Friday. It's Wednesday. Do you think your teacher will accept the late work?
Son: (audible sigh) Yeah, mom, I know what day it is. And yes, he will. I will remind him about my 504 plan. Okay?
Reflection: So much for keeping it positive. My anxiety is palpable. Okay, reality check. His teachers are supportive; they have always honored his 504 plan in the past. Maybe he won't fail 12th grade English and he'll be able to graduate with his class. Deep breaths.
Me: Right. Sounds like you know what to do.
Son: I do. Are we cool?
Reflection: No, we're not cool. You should never have let this happen. But I'm going to try to practice what I preach. Failure is part of the process. Deep breaths.
[Cut to the following day]
Me: Son, are you okay?
Son: (peeved) No. I'm exhausted and stressed out. I've been working for like eight hours straight. I have so many assignments to make up.
Reflection: Yeah. Well. You should have thought about that before you played video games with your friends. Don't say that. It's unkind. Be kind. Be supportive.
Me: I'm sorry, love. That sucks. Is there anything I can do to help?
Son: (unintelligible mumbling)
[Two days later]
Son: (gleefully) Mom! Guess what? You know how I was getting a D in English? Well, I did all of my assignments and turned them in and now my grade is up to an A!
Me: Wow, that's amazing! You must be so happy.
Son: I am. I really am.
Reflection: Wow. This kid really knows how to dig himself out of a hole. I guess that's a useful skill. I just wish he'd learn to manage things before they got out of hand. He could avoid a lot of unnecessary stress and turmoil. Maybe, if I'm careful and don't make him feel criticized or defensive, I can make this point.
Me: You worked really hard to make up all of those assignments.
Son: Yeah. It wasn't fun. I should have done them sooner.
Reflection: Yes--an opening! He's self-reflecting. That's amazing. There is hope!
Me: I hear you. We all procrastinate sometimes. You know that feeling you have right now?
Son: Yeah?
Me: It's called relief. Why do you think you're so relieved?
Son: Because I managed to get all of that work done and save my grade.
Me: Yes! It's a pretty good feeling.
Son: Yeah.
Me: You know what feels even better?
Son: (curious) What?
Me: (trying hard not to sound patronizing) Pride. That's the feeling of deep satisfaction you get when you set out to achieve something and you put in the time and the effort to make it happen, without over-the-top stress and last-minute scrambling. It’s when you live up to your own best intentions.
Son: (self-reflective) Yeah. I get it, mom. I definitely don't want to put myself in that situation again.
Me: Agreed. I love you.
Son: I love you, too, mom.
Reflection: We can do this! I won't get the worst-mother-of-the-year award. At least not today! He can learn from his mistakes. And I can learn from mine, and strive to be supportive instead of explosive. Deep breaths.