Teaching is a thankless job, and at no time is that more apparent than during a parent-teacher conference. I call them to discuss issues with their children and to try and *help,* but inevitably it somehow becomes my fault. This is especially true in my school district where the average household income surpasses at least $500k a year.
Kayla’s Mom waltzed in the door talking on the phone 10 minutes after our conference was set to begin. She was tall and blonde; she looked a bit too young to have an 18 year old daughter but so did most of the mothers I encounter here; she was wearing black leggings and a black tank top that hugged her trim figure and accentuated her features, and black flip flops that showed off her expertly manicured toes which matched her fingers, which were currently gripping a very large Starbucks cup.
“I’m so sorry. Traffic was awful,” she said as she sat down, almost as if she uttered that phrase multiple times a day.
“It’s ok, Mrs. Jacobs…”
“Please, call me Kim,” she interrupted, “Mrs. Jacobs makes me feel so old.”